Archive of Our Own

“Are you sure you have everything?” Jody asks as Colt repacks the duffel bag he’s bringing for Ryland once again. She’s asking as if she hasn’t witnessed him pack, unpack, and repack the bag at least a dozen times today alone.

“Pretty sure,” Colt says, the same reply he’s given each time. “If I forget anything— Well, it’s not like we’re going out to the middle of the desert or anything stupid like that. He’s just coming back here.”

Jody gives an approximation of an agreeable noise before asking, “You’ve got his toothbrush, then?”

“Yup.” Colt lifts the plastic-wrapped, brand-new toothbrush for her appraisal.

“His clothes?” she asks, and he tips the bag to show her the rolled-up clothes stacked within. “Alright. Razors?”

“Got a few,” Colt replies. He’s not sure how much it’ll take to scrape the scraggly beard off of his brother’s face, but he’s prepared for any eventuality. “And shaving cream. Seriously, I think I’ve got it all this time.”

Famous last words, he says to himself. Inevitably, he’ll forget something, but— he still wants to make a good impression on Rocky as someone who can actually help take care of Ryland, if only so the alien doesn’t— he’s not sure, actually. Maul him in his sleep, or something? When it comes to Ryland, Colt gets the feeling that there’s not much Rocky wouldn’t do— and with little or no provocation.

“Did you remember Dana’s gift for Rocky?” Jody asks then, and Colt lifts one sleeve up from the bag to show her. “Good. Well, I think you’re as ready as you can be.”

Colt sighs, zipping up the bag— then continuing to stare at it for a long minute, as if the dark blue canvas fabric is hypnotizing him somehow, abruptly fascinating. If Jody didn’t decide to come over and lean against him, he might have stayed there forever, he doesn’t know.

“It’s going to be alright,” she promises him.

“How do you know?” Colt replies. “For all I know, he’s already been— been shot back into space on some other stupid goddamn suicide mission—”

“Hey, hey,” Jody stops him, catching his wildly-gesturing hands as they fly through the air. She holds tight to his wrists, turns his body towards hers. “Your brother is safe. He’s coming home with you today. They can’t touch him.”

“Yes, they can,” Colt protests, though he doesn’t want to. He just— He knows. They can do whatever they want. They already have.

“Well— Yes, they technically can, but they won’t,” Jody amends. “Look, they— did what they did last time because they thought it was the world’s only hope. But, the world’s not dying anymore, is it?”

“Not any more than usual, I guess,” Colt allows. Jody gives him a little smile, craning her neck and ducking a bit so she can meet his eyes when he turns them down. “But—”

“We’ll install— I don’t know, as many security alarms and all that nonsense as you’d like,” Jody tells him. “And Stratt promised they’d have people protecting the house. But I don’t think they’re going to take him away from you. Not again.”

Colt sighs, releasing a long-held breath, letting his shoulders slump. Releasing one of his hands, Jody reaches up, massages at the tense muscles of his shoulder, drawing him down to slump into her. When he buries his face in her throat, she moves to rub the back of his head instead, stroking softly through his hair.

“It’s going to be alright,” Jody whispers near his ear. “You’ve earned it. Both of you have.” Colt nods against her, wraps his arms around her, holds her tighter, as tight as he can. She returns the embrace, kisses his cheek. “And besides— do you really think Rocky is going to let anyone hurt Ryland again?”

“Not if they want to live,” Colt mumbles back with a huffed laugh. “Alright, alright. I get it.”

“Then you better start moving, or else you’ll be late.” Jody punctuates this with a squeeze before releasing him.

For another long moment, though, Colt doesn’t let her go. He just hangs on, takes comfort in her steady presence here— and then he makes himself let her go.

“I love you,” he tells her. She rolls her eyes, fondness painted pink across her face. “Thanks for letting my zombie brother and his alien boyfriend move in with us.”

“Thanks for making it seem like we had a choice,” she replies.

With a jolt of unease, Colt says, “I mean— If you really didn’t want him t—”

“I’m joking,” Jody interrupts him, with a light swat towards his chest that barely even makes brushing contact. “God, you are wound up today.” She leans up, tilting in towards him, and he drops into her automatically for a kiss. Their lips graze one another’s when she tells him, “I love you, too. Now, go get the aliens.”

“One alien, one astronaut,” Colt amends, finally making himself withdraw from her, taking up the strap on his duffel bag and hoisting it over his shoulder.

“Oh, we’ll see,” Jody teases, enjoying the scoff of a laugh that escapes from Colt in response. “Drive safely, why don’t you? The last thing your brother needs right now is a car accident.”

“Hey, what about me?” he asks as he heads for his shoes by the front door. He has to duck under one of many tubing tunnels that fill his home, now; he has spent the last several days assembling Rocky’s network of tubes and xenonite suits, along with a team of scientists who have apparently been working tirelessly to synthesize an artificial environment for Rocky within that network. Colt just let them use him as muscle; he must have hauled at least a hundred panels into his house over the past week.

“What about you?” Jody asks. “You crash cars for a living, you’ll be fine.”

“He crashed a fucking spaceship,” Colt points out.

“Technically, I think Rocky did that, Dad,” Dana chimes in from the sofa, knitting needles busy between her hands. “So, Uncle Ryland still has a good track record, from what I know of him.”

It strikes Colt again— in that moment, as it has in so many moments since Ryland came back to Earth— that she is going to get to actually know Ryland. Jody had met him a handful of times— times which rapidly petered out as Colt stubbornly refused to see her after his accident, and Ryland stubbornly refused to be driven away at the same time. His daughters, though—

Colt’s daughters have never gotten to meet their uncle, his brother. They have asked about him constantly— he doesn’t blame them, not when their uncle is one of the most famous people ever and, subsequently, a planet-saving hero— but their questions aren’t always about him being an astronaut, or the work he did up in space, or even about anything in the countless recordings they ended up receiving featuring him and his alien so prominently.

They asked a lot of personal questions, too. Being twins themselves, they could never seem to fathom how Colt got on so well when his other half was somewhere in space, likely never to return.

He never really told them the truth, never showed them the truth, that— that he hadn’t gotten on so well, not so well at all. It’s just that he tried his damn best every day not to let any of that touch them. He’d already failed as a brother; he didn’t want to fail as a father, too.

“Dad?” Dana asks, setting her needles in her lap, fingers still tangled between wood and thread.

Colt startles a little, refocuses on her. Sometimes, he doesn’t even see himself in her face, nor in Kyrie’s; he sees Ryland more than himself. He’s not sure that would make sense to anyone other than a twin, those tiny differences that they just know, but— that’s what he sees. His brother’s face, in his daughters’s.

“Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking—” He stops, then gives a sort-of truth. “I was just thinking— Your uncle’s gonna love talking with you. Sometimes, he can’t shut up.”

Dana grins up at him, and that— that, unfortunately, is all Colt.

“Like me?” she asks.

“Yeah, like you,” he replies, ducking under another set of tubes so he can kneel on the couch beside her, tugging her into a one-armed hug. “You’ll be all set and ready to go when we get back, right?”

“Right,” Dana agrees easily, enthusiastically. “Mom’s helping me frost the cake after you leave, and Kyrie’s working on the banner in her room.”

Colt drops down to press a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re the best. I don’t care what anyone else says.”

“Shut up, Dad,” she replies, still with that smile on her face, tilting towards mischief. “We really can’t make anything for Rocky to eat?”

“Ry— Uhh, your Uncle Ryland said that Rocky has his own diet,” Colt tells her as he withdraws, dipping his head down so he doesn’t knock it against part of Rocky’s network. “We’re picking up the synthesizer tomorrow, I can show you how it works so you can help when he’s hungry.”

“That’s going to be so cool,” Dana replies, leaping up to her feet. “Okay, I’m going to help Kyrie finish the banner!”

“Love you, too!” Colt calls after her as she darts down the hall. He’s not sure he’s ever seen her actually walk somewhere in her life. It’s always running, jumping, sprinting, falling whenever she goes anywhere. Her very first steps saw her trying to run before she slammed into a wall and just started laughing.

“Bye, Dad!” Dana shouts over her shoulder. “Love you!”

Colt only needs to wait a moment before Kyrie is sticking her head through her bedroom doorway. “Are you leaving already?”

“Someone’s gotta pick up your bum of an uncle,” Colt replies.

In an instant, Kyrie is jogging into his arms, giving him a tight hug. The years where they had been surviving had opposing effects on his children: where Dana now considers herself not needing any help whatsoever, declaring herself functionally independent, Kyrie has a difficult time when her family isn’t in the same immediate vicinity of her.

“I’ll be back soon, it won’t take that long,” Colt promises her, ducking to rub her back and press a kiss above her ear, getting a mouthful of dirty-blonde hair. “Just gonna clean him up and bring him here.”

“And Rocky,” Kyrie adds.

“God knows, I can’t forget Rocky,” Colt replies. “I don’t think either of them would let me. He’d probably—” He pulls back a little, mimes his hand running like a spider. “—chase after the van until he could take it down himself.”

“Don’t,” Kyrie insists around a stifled laugh. “What if, like— the Men in Black come to take him?”

“I’m pretty sure the Men in Black are the ones who have them now,” Colt reminds her. He tugs her in for another squeeze, assures her, “I swear, I’ll bring your uncle and his— rocks home in one piece.”

“Well, if anyone can,” Jody comments from behind him, and Colt separates from Kyrie with one last kiss to her forehead. “Just— try to be careful, at least?”

“Pssh, who? Me?” Colt asks, as if incredulous. “Careful is my middle name.” Even Kyrie scoffs at that. “Hey, it could be. You haven’t seen my birth certificate.”

“Well, it doesn’t say Colt Seavers on it, either, I know that much,” Jody replies. With a glance at the clock hanging in the hall, she adds, “You should probably get going if you don’t want to be late. Don’t give Stratt any more reason to push back.”

“If she pushes back any more, I think Rocky’s going to start shoving,” Colt tells her. “And I’ll help him.” He readjusts the strap of the duffel bag on his shoulder and straightens up. “Alright, I’m off to bring back my brother and the alien that’s going to live in our house with him. Just a— regular fucking Tuesday, I guess.”

“Love you,” Jody replies, pushing up into one last kiss with him. “Drive safely, alright?”

“When don’t I?” Colt replies, and earns himself a put-upon sigh as Jody pats his chest and finally lets him leave.

It’s not as easy to perform death-defying stunts in larger vehicles. They’re clunkier, more difficult to operate; it takes more of Colt’s brainspace to calculate when to hit the gas, when to spin the wheel, when to flip the vehicle to maximize visuals while minimizing impact.

That being said, he has been putting in effort to practice as best as he can in the van he and Ryland picked out together.

One of the first considerations they had had to make was making everything in Colt’s life accessible— not just for Rocky and his alien atmosphere, but for Ryland, too, and his limited mobility. He’s still not strong enough to walk— he can barely stand. They’re starting him on physical therapy once he’s gotten a bit healthier, more hydrated, more nutrition…ed? Nutrified? Ryland would know, if Colt remembers to ask him.

Accessible for Rocky has looked like preparing him a functional day-to-day xenonite suit, letting all these supposedly genius scientists build a synthesized Eridian environment pumping through the tubes that now fill his home, custom-ordering a van that can take his weight, preparing to stock in a machine to generate his food, another to help him stay clean, and a special place for him to sleep— that was, apparently, crucial to be placed practically on top of Ryland’s bed, at their mutual request.

Accessible for Ryland has looked like making sure everything in Colt’s home— in his life, that is now Ryland’s shared home, Ryland’s shared life, just like they once were— is easily navigated by his wheelchair. He’s put in ramps, he got a stair chair, he got— the goddamn van, which he’s learning how to push, discovering its limits. Ryland will get a hell of a ride, he knows that much.

Colt has accumulated different options for other wheelchairs, if Ryland doesn’t end up liking the one they picked out and Rocky forcibly enhanced. He’s gathered countless canes and crutches that he has stashed in one of their closets, waiting for when Ryland is well enough to pick one out. He has read books, and— and blogs, and he asked every scientist and doctor and— well, pretty much everybody he’s encountered who he thought might know something. Colt just wants his brother to be— he’s not even sure, just— happy. He wants him to be happy; he wants his life to be as easy as he can make it, after— after everything.

Whether or not Ryland is actually going to want any of it remains to be seen. All Colt can do is— is present him with his options and— and trust him. He’s been to space. He saved the world. He saved worlds, plural. He can probably decide which cane he’ll want.

If anyone knows what they’re doing, Colt has always thought it was Ryland.

Still, out of deference to Jody and the girls— and the van, so he doesn’t actually wreck it on his way to pick his brother up— Colt takes his time on the way to the facility Ryland’s been kept in since he returned to Earth.

Well—

He takes his time, as much as Colt ever takes his time while driving. Another person might possibly still call it reckless; to Colt, this is about the slowest, most boring driving he could do.

If it means he’s bringing Ryland home in one piece, though— and Rocky along with him— he’ll drive slowly and boringly and safely.

The drive itself may be boring, but Colt’s mind is racing the entire time. He can hardly pay attention to the road, he’s so focused on finally getting to take Ryland away from these people— Grace murderers, as Rocky has latched onto calling them and won’t stop calling them. Colt possibly encourages it; it’s not like he’s wrong. The sooner Ryland and Rocky are out from under their control, and are safely secured in Colt’s house, the sooner he thinks he’ll be able to breathe again. At least— At least, to breathe a little easier.

This is, however, a drive that Colt has made countless times since his brother returned to Earth. He could make it with his eyes closed— though, he doesn’t, thank you very much, Jody and all her warnings. By the time he’s actually pulling up and needlessly flashing his parking badge at the guard, he swears, he’s zoned out for at least half the drive, operating on autopilot as he thinks— worries— about his brother, and whether or not he’ll be happy at Colt’s place after being gone so long, and whether or not he’ll be happy with Colt after being gone so long—

His mental bubble bursts when a parking attendant knocks on his window. Colt comes to a complete stop, rolls his window down, asks, “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Can I see your identification?” the stranger asks. Colt’s not sure he’s ever seen this guard before.

“What, my face isn’t enough?” Colt asks, reaching for his wallet all the same.

“What about it?” the guard asks, and Colt just barely holds back from scoffing. He wants to ask, “Don’t you know who I am?,” but the answer is— well, first and foremost, the identical twin brother of the savior of Earth, and maybe that’s not something he wants to go telling every other person out there.

Instead, he just hands over his ID card, lets the guard check it against a list he’s keeping on his tablet, and waits to be ushered inside. He’s looking forward to the times when he doesn’t have to go through countless levels of security and facial recognition scans and stupid, stupid tests just to get to his own brother. He hasn’t had particularly good experiences with this kind of shit.

At least, he reminds himself as he parks and heads for the familiar elevator to the lobby, he gets to bring his brother home today. At least there’s that.

He’s practically got a spring in his step the whole way to Ryland’s room. The peculiar scientists and nurses and doctors he’s seen time and time again all receive jaunty waves from him as he nearly skips down the hall, whistling happily all the while.

At Ryland’s door, he gives a little patterned knock. He doesn’t need to wait long before Rocky’s hurling the door open; that fucker can move.

“Grace brother here!” Rocky chirps at him. Ryland was always the smart one, but Colt’s certainly not dumb, and he’s been spending enough time around Rocky lately that he thinks he’s actually starting to pick up some Eridian.

“How many times do I have to tell you? Just call me Colt,” he replies, slipping past Rocky when he allows him inside.

“Grace! Colt Grace brother here!” Rocky exclaims. He’s mostly ignoring him, but Ryland’s gotten used to that. Years spent in only the company of one another have made Ryland and Grace— uhh, a bit attached. Colt doesn’t take it personally.

Ryland’s sat on the edge of his bed. The thing is all made up, of fucking course, and he’s rubbing at his face with both hands. He’s still so much skin-and-bones; Colt rapidly decides his first order of business, once they’re home, will be getting Ryland to eat. The tubes of mush they’ve been giving him here clearly just aren’t enough.

“Hey, long time no see,” Colt greets him, clapping a hand down on his shoulder, feeling the sharp cut of his bones over his thin skin and the papery sleeve of his stupid hospital gown.

“I’m pretty sure I saw you less than twelve hours ago,” Ryland replies. He’s smiling, though; he’s never been able to mask his emotions for longer than two seconds.

“That’s a long time for me,” Colt tells him as he drops the duffel bag down onto the bed right next to him. “We shared a womb, man.”

“Decades ago.”

“So?” Colt unzips the bag. “These are the ties that bind, brother.”

Ryland rolls his eyes, but he still leans forward to peer into the bag, tipping his glasses down in front of his eyes, always so endlessly curious. “What’d you bring me, question?”

“Who says any of this is for you?” Colt replies.

Ryland reaches in, pulls out the toothbrush. He raises his eyebrows, then he’s grinning, beaming right up at Colt as if the best thing anyone has ever done for him is Colt buying him a goddamn toothbrush.

Fuck, he missed his brother.

“Gifts for Rocky, question?” Rocky asks, digging through the bag. Colt brushes him aside; Rocky jabs at his arm with his sharp fucking claws and scrambles back in front of him to dig through the bag more quickly. “Where gifts for Rocky, question?”

“I do have one thing for you,” Colt says as he reaches past Rocky to rifle through Ryland’s clothes before he locates the sweater Dana had knit for him. “That’s for you, Rocky. Courtesy of your niece.”

“Gosh, I keep forgetting you have kids,” Ryland exhales, watching Rocky take the sweater in his hands and turn it around, over and over. “Which one made that?”

“Dana,” Colt answers. “She’s getting real good, too.” Reaching out, beckoning, he tells Rocky, “Give me that, I’ll help you with it.”

“Colt offspring make Rocky human clothes, question?” Rocky asks, surrendering the sweater.

“Yeah, she made it just for you,” Colt replies. “She’s been big into it lately. Keeps her pretty busy, I think that’s a good thing. This one’s got owls all over it, I don’t know if you can see that.”

“Owl night bird on Earth, wise, wear Grace face jewelry,” Rocky replies. It takes Colt a moment to parse what he’s saying, his hands pausing on the sweater for a moment, but— his brain really is breaking, because the fucking alien makes sense, in his way. “Design raised. Pretty, pretty, pretty. Made for Rocky by Grace family!”

“Your family, too, now,” Colt replies as he steps closer to him. “Hands up.”

Rocky raises three of his arms; his back two limbs tap against the floor, excited as Colt tugs the sweater down, maneuvering each appendage through each sleeve. Delighted chirps and chitters pour from him with enthusiasm when Colt finally gets the sweater down and in place over him, making sure it doesn’t block his view— though, Colt’s not sure anything a human could make can fully block Rocky’s view, really.

“Dana bothered Stratt until she was able to get your dimensions, Rocky,” Colt tells him, adjusting the ends of his sleeves, slipping his claws through the little holes Dana knitted for him. It’s a good thing his xenonite suit is so form-fitting; the sweater seems to be nearly exactly his size. “There. How’s that?”

“Perfect, perfect, perfect! Rocky beautiful!” Rocky declares. “Rocky wear favorite human clothes always!”

“Just— let me wash it now and then.” Colt turns on his brother, finds him distracted from his explorations of the duffel bag’s contents as he watches Rocky tug at his sweater. Reaching out, Ryland motions him closer; Rocky goes without a word being spoken, trilling with excitement when Ryland starts fiddling with the sleeves himself.

“This is really nice, Rock,” Ryland tells him, smoothing his hand along the soft fabric of one sleeve, over and over. “You look good— It looks good on you.”

Rocky raises himself up higher, stretches, chitters happily as he knocks his— head? thorax? body? face?— knocks himself against Ryland’s face with a little bonk that just seems to serve to make Ryland smile.

“Grace like Rocky pretty clothes?” Rocky asks him.

“Yeah, I love ‘em, Rocky, you look great.” Ryland doesn’t stop fidgeting with Rocky’s sleeve. Even though it surely must be in place by now.

“Grace get clothes too, question?” Rocky asks Ryland rather than Colt, but— once again, it’s something Colt’s learned not to take personally. If he spent years with only one other person— or, well, being— for company, he can’t help but think he’d probably get pretty attached, too.

“Yeah, I brought a whole bunch of clothes for him,” Colt says, nudging the duffel bag forgotten on the bed beside Ryland. “Once we get you a little bit cleaned up.” Ryland perks up, then sighs, drooping again. “What, what’s wrong?”

“I’m just so sick of washing myself with a sponge,” Ryland complains, releasing Rocky’s arm so he can fold both of his own across his chest.

“Well, lucky you, then,” Colt replies, reaching out to withdraw the bottle of real shampoo and the soap bar in its little box. “You get to take a real shower today.”

Ryland brightens again, asks, “Seriously? A real shower, question?” He laughs, a little breathless. “I’ve missed showers.”

“Yeah, I’ve missed you showering, too,” Colt replies, earning himself a thwack on the hip from his brother that feels like barely anything. “Alright, disgusting, let’s go.”

If Colt thought he would be able to do this without Rocky’s constant intervention, he would have been sorely mistaken. As it was, he already anticipated Rocky skittering after them, trying to wedge himself in between them, constantly demanding, “What that, question? What Colt doing to Grace, question? Why douse Grace in water, question? What Rocky do to help Grace, question?”

Just to keep him occupied while Colt tries to help his brother scrub down, he gives Rocky the task of washing Ryland’s hair for him while he sits on his shower chair, face tilted up, enjoying the hot spray against his skin.

The first time Colt had helped his brother clean up after he crashed back to Earth— with the sponge and sterile-smelling hospital soap that both of them had wrinkled their noses at— he had been a bit surprised at how Ryland’s body looked. His brother had wasted away to practically a skeleton, bruises and burns everywhere that Ryland still really hasn’t explained receiving even now; his skin had had the yellow tint of jaundice, and he sat there, shivering the whole time, while Colt pretended nothing was happening and Rocky was— well, Rocky, refusing to leave Ryland’s side for even a second.

Now, Colt’s gotten used to how his brother looks. He’s still thin— too thin, Colt observes once more, but at least he’s not quite so skeletal anymore. A lot of his bruises have yellowed or faded; most of the marks on him have scabbed over and scarred up. His skin is finally returning to its normal shade— hell, he even has color in his cheeks now.

Honestly, Colt’s not sure the last time he was excited by something so seemingly small and insignificant, but he’s glad for it now, watching Ryland sigh into the water, eyes closed, just enjoying the simple pleasure of it.

“Rocky clean Grace hair! Make Grace beautiful!” Rocky announces, reaching in from outside the shower so he doesn’t get his sweater wet. Lifting the bottle over his hair, Rocky squeezes it hard and empties about half the bottle out onto the top of Ryland’s head in one splort.

For his part, Ryland doesn’t even seem bothered. He just laughs, keeping his eyes scrunched shut against the shampoo as it rolls down his skull, coats his face. “What, you didn’t think I was beautiful before?”

“Grace most beautiful human, statement!” Rocky insists, as if affronted.

“Thanks, man,” Colt replies, carefully lathering Ryland’s arm with one of the dark washcloths.

“Colt second favorite human, statement,” Rocky replies, confused.

“Yeah, and I’ve got the same face as him,” Colt answers with a thumb pointing up towards Ryland. “So, thanks. It’s an honor.”

Rocky just observes Colt for a moment before he shifts around and starts massaging the shampoo into Ryland’s hair. “Human soap made of slime, question?”

“Nah, that’s just what shampoo feels like,” Colt answers. “It’s goopy, but it’s good for cleaning our hair.”

“Human body strange, strange, strange,” Rocky grumbles, though he doesn’t let up his ministrations. He even takes the conditioner when Colt offers it to him and starts going through the same process.

Between the three of them, it doesn’t take very long to get Ryland actually, properly cleaned up for the first time in— Colt doesn’t like to even think about how long. It makes his throat feel a little thick every time his mind drifts in that direction.

Ryland is enjoying the shower so much, though, that he just turns to let Colt start trimming the beard he’s grown in, allowing the spray to continue falling over him.

“How much do you want off?” Colt asks, getting closer to his skin with the razor blades on each pass.

“All of it,” Ryland replies. “It’s stupid. Itchy, statement. Maybe I’ll grow it back later, but— Yeah, not for now.”

“Grace cranky about face decoration,” Rocky tells Colt, as if in an aside, as if Ryland isn’t right there in front of them.

“I am not cranky,” Ryland argues.

“Grace complain, complain, complain,” Rocky continues on, ignoring Ryland. “Rocky say take face decoration off, Grace say Grace too shaky, not want to cut skin. Human have vulnerable, weak skin, statement.”

“Well, I’m glad neither of you accidentally slit your throat, man,” Colt tells Ryland, tilting his head back, smoothing the razor down beneath his jaw. “I guess, compared to you, Rocky, we are pretty weak, aren’t we?”

“Grace say Colt tough, more tough than Grace,” Rocky informs him.

“Did he, now?” Colt asks, glancing at his brother. His eyes are closed again, but his face is pinker. “I’m tough, am I?”

“You made a career out of throwing yourself around and you’re in better shape than I am,” Ryland points out, eyes still scrunched shut. “And you survived whatever the heck happened while I was gone. You’re going to have to tell me about it sometime, statement.”

“Yeah, that time’s not now.” Colt holds his brother’s chin. “Stay still.”

“Colt career based on injury, question?” Rocky asks.

Colt, his tongue poking out a little as he concentrates on not cutting open Ryland’s lips, replies, “Pretty much. That’s what stuntwork is. I’d get hurt so the famous guys wouldn’t have to.”

“Not fair, statement,” Rocky insists with a frustrated little stomp backwards. “Colt injury for other human, question?”

“Yeah, but I usually don’t mind,” Colt tells him. “I kinda love it, actually.”

“Colt like injury, question?” Rocky asks with another tap, curious and softer this time.

“Well, I don’t necessarily like being injured— Stop moving,” Colt cuts himself off, and Ryland stiffens again, trying to keep his head straight. “It’s more that the rest of it’s so fun that I don’t mind the injuries. It’s like a trade.”

Rocky seems to consider this for a moment before he straightens up again, asks, “Grace tell Rocky Colt get injured bad, bad, bad doing injury work, statement.”

“You’re spilling all my secrets to the alien now?” Colt asks his brother.

“It was a long few years,” Ryland murmurs, trying not to move too much. “Had to find things to talk about.”

“Oh, and one of those things was one of my worst days ever?” Colt runs the razor in one final sweep down his cheek, then brings the washcloth up to wipe away the lingering traces of shaving cream and consider his work, making sure he hadn’t missed any spots.

“Grace sibling one of Grace favorite discussion topic, statement,” Rocky answers before Ryland can. “Grace talk, talk, talk about brother Colt on Earth.”

Colt wants to tease Ryland for this, but, when he thinks about it for more than two seconds, it gives him that choked-up, wanting-to-cry feeling again. His brother got taken, shot into space, and left for dead, and still, Ryland remembered him— eventually— and thought about him and talked about him.

“I missed you, too,” Colt ends up saying. Ryland reaches out to squeeze his wrist for a brief moment before releasing him, leaving a wet smear behind. “Jody’d probably say the same thing about me.”

“Oh, right,” Ryland says, sitting up a little more. “I keep forgetting I’m going to get to see her again. And meet your kids— I’m really excited to meet your family.”

“Rocky meet Colt mate, Colt offspring!” Rocky chirps, delighted. “Rocky meet Grace family, exclamation!”

“They’re dying to meet you, too,” Colt tells them. Access to Ryland and Rocky while they’ve been here in the facility as Ryland recovers has been extremely restricted, limited only to Colt himself as an outside visitor for the time being. They even take his phone every time he comes up here; he hasn’t been able to so much as put them all on a video call yet.

God, he hopes this goes well. His daughters are practically grown now, and they can handle themselves just as well as Jody can, but that doesn’t mean Colt’s not constantly worrying.

But then, there’s really nowhere else for Ryland and Rocky to go without being put in some government housing facility out in the boonies, and Colt’s not about to let them take his brother, again. He’d much sooner have him in his own house, thanks, even if they end up getting on each other’s nerves. They’re grown, now; Colt likes to think they won’t have any real problems beyond average roommate-squabbles. They’ve lived together before, he thinks he can take Ryland’s idiosyncrasies.

Rocky is a bit more of a wild card, but, well— he and Ryland are practically joined at the hip, and the pebbly alien has been growing on Colt. The fact that he loves his brother so openly and endlessly helps that quite a bit.

He likes Rocky’s attitude, too. He’s got a bit of a mouth on him, despite not having a mouth, really, or at least not what Colt considers a mouth. Leave it to his brother to find one alien out there in the universe and have him be a lovable little cunt.

“Grace family die, die, die, question?” Rocky asks in a panic.

“Not literally dying,” Ryland replies before Colt can. “He just means they’re really excited.”

Rocky contemplates this for a moment before announcing, “Rocky die for Grace family!”

“Close enough,” Ryland murmurs, then opens his eyes again, meets Colt’s in front of him. “Am I done?”

“Just gonna trim your hair, if you want,” Colt answers. Reaching out, he runs his fingers through his brother’s wet hair, long and streaked with white and dripping down his shoulders.

“Grace beautiful!” Rocky trills at him. “Leave Grace hair, statement. Rocky clean, Rocky like!”

“It gets in my face, though, Rocky,” Ryland points out.

“Rocky learn human braiding, fix hair, statement,” Rocky insists with a stomp.

Ryland sighs, glancing up towards Colt again. “Maybe just trim the ends for now?”

“Your wish is my command.” He helps Ryland turn on the shower chair so he’s facing the wall, his back to Colt, letting him start to pull his damp hair back and even it out. “Hey, Rocky, Dana and Kyrie would probably be happy to teach you how to braid hair.” And from what he’s seen of Rocky, especially in his brother’s recordings, he’s more than dexterous enough for it.

“Colt offspring, correct, question?” Rocky asks, observing Colt’s small movements as he grabs for his little scissors to begin trimming.

“Correctamundo,” Colt replies. “There was a few months there, back when they were little, where they got this book on braids and wouldn’t stop fucking with each other’s hair until they learned every single braid in the damn thing. I don’t know how many times I had to brush out the stupidest fucking knots from their hair.”

And he’d do it all again, in a heartbeat. They don’t need him to brush out the snarls in their hair anymore; he now misses the days when they did, when they’d come running to him at the slightest provocation, trusting him to make it all better. He wishes he could still make it all better for them so easily as he once could.

“Wow,” Ryland exhales, allowing Colt to tip his head forward a little. “I missed so much. I still can’t believe you had kids and I didn’t get to be there for it.”

“You were a little busy saving the universe, I guess,” Colt replies.

Ryland huffs a small sound that’s nearly a laugh. “That’s kind of an exaggeration.”

“Grace savior, Rocky savior!” Rocky insists. “Brave, brave, brave!”

“You chose to go to space,” Ryland protests. “You were there for decades alr— You were up there before I was even born.”

“Jesus Christ,” Colt comments. “How the hell old are you anyway, Rocky?”

“Grace say Rocky old, old, old when compare to human,” Rocky tells him.

“He’s, like, around three hundred Earth years old, give or take,” Ryland answers for him. “At least, from what I can tell.”

“Jesus Christ,” Colt repeats with feeling. “How long were you out in space, there, Rocky?”

“Grace say many Earth year pass while Rocky in space,” Rocky replies. “Half of a ♩♬♪♫♪♫.”

“What the hell word was that?” Colt asks Ryland.

Ryland hums, asks Rocky, “Say it again for me, Rock?” and, once more, Rocky chimes the same word, “♩♬♪♫♪♫.” Ryland imitates the sound as best as he can with his human vocal cords, then smiles. “That’s just his word for century. They have different base numbers on Erid, explaining our system for keeping time was one of the first things we got to do together. We still mix it up sometimes, though.”

So effortlessly including Rocky every time, always, all we did this, we got to do this together, we still mix it up. We, we, we, practically every single time he speaks.

“So, he was up there for fifty Earth years, or— whatever half a century would be for him?” Colt asks.

“Fifty Earth year, statement,” Rocky answers. “Colt Grace good with math! Why injure self for money, question?”

“Ry’s the brains, he was always better at that stuff than me.” Colt backs up a little, checks the ends of Ryland’s hair, then pulls a few strands loose to trim. He’s not going to fuck up his brother’s first haircut in who knows how long.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Ryland protests. “You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for, you always have been.”

“Yeah, yeah, well.” Colt dismisses them easily, then tosses the scissors onto the sterile bathroom’s little counter and claps a hand on his brother’s slick shoulder. “Alright, you’re all cleaned up. How’s it feel?”

Ryland seems to evaluate himself for a moment before he stretches, letting his arms spread wide, cracking his shoulders, his back; he rotates at the waist, gets his hips to crack, too, and Rocky shudders.

“Grace body make bad noise,” Rocky grumbles. “Disgust, disgust, disgust.”

“It feels pretty good to stretch like this, Rock,” Ryland says. “You try it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No, statement. Rocky not have human muscle. Stretch do nothing.”

“I’ve seen you stretch, statement,” Ryland counters. “C’mon, stretch it out— C’mon—”

He’s laughing, reaching out to grab onto two of Rocky’s hands and stretch his limbs out. Rocky seems to vibrate, making a musical little purr of a sound, before he’s moving to arch his body downwards, appendages all extending as he stretches like a cat. Colt has to resist the urge to comment, “Big stretch,” and only just barely manages to hold back.

“See?” Ryland asks with that grin returning to his face, the one Colt thought he would never see again. His own smile is theoretically identical, but Ryland’s is still different to him.

“Grace correct, Rocky stretch,” Rocky grumbles at him, though he doesn’t sound all that put-off— and when Colt started being able to recognize Rocky’s different tones, he has no idea.

“Alright, how about we let Ryland brush his teeth and whatever?” Colt suggests, standing up straight and stretching himself. Rocky imitates his movements, lifting two hands up into the air and shaking them at him. “I’ll show you the clothes I brought for him.”

“You didn’t need to get me new clothes,” Ryland comments as he shuffles upwards, lets Colt help him stand and wrap a towel around him.

“I didn’t,” Colt replies, grabbing another towel to scrub his hair dry with. “I kept a ton of your shit when you— you know. I just wanted to hold onto it.”

Ryland pauses, half-obscured by the towel in his face. “But— But, you didn’t know that I’d ever come back.”

“I wasn’t exactly keeping them for you,” Colt replies. He hides his brother’s face again beneath the towel, rubs more vigorously. “Glad I did now, though. Saves us a couple bucks trying to get you new stuff.” Lifting the towel, draping it around Ryland’s shoulders, he keeps his eyes down, adds, “Well, I did get you new underwear and socks and shit. And the pants I brought you are mine, I couldn’t find anything of yours that I thought would actually fit you right now.”

“Then why would your clothes fit me?” Ryland asks, and laughs when Colt motions between them.

“Identical twins,” Colt reminds him. As if he needs reminding. “The sweatpants I brought have a drawstring, they’re pretty soft and stretchy. Figured you might like something comfortable instead of, like— jeans you haven’t worn in years, or something.”

“That’s really nice,” Ryland tells him with that crooked grin of his, goddamnit. He’s still the same guy Colt remembers, just— a little to the left. That long in space, thinking he was going to die there? If it’d been Colt, he’d be a lot to the left. He doesn’t know how Ryland did it.

Or—

Well, when he looks at the way Rocky’s propping Ryland up without being asked, supporting him on his quest to the sink, he thinks he knows how he did it. He just had to find something to live for— to live with.

“Thanks,” Ryland says to both of them. “I think I’m good for a few minutes.”

“Grace want Rocky to leave, question?” Rocky asks with a descending hum, curling up a little.

“Nah, it’s not that I want to, I just— gotta be a gross human,” Ryland explains. “Clean my mouth, you won’t want to see it, trust me.”

Rocky considers his words, then stomps, acquiescing with what Colt has determined is his equivalent of a huff. “Grace call Rocky if need help, call Colt Grace, let Colt Rocky help Grace.”

“You have my word,” Ryland replies, shooing them off. Colt shakes his brother by the shoulder lightly before he leaves, letting Rocky skitter under and between his legs to jolt ahead of him. Good thing he’s about the size of a medium-to-large-sized dog, because any bigger and he’d be taking Colt out every time he did that.

“Where Grace clothes, question?” Rocky asks, already digging through the duffel bag on the bed again.

“Here, I’ll pull them out and show you.” Colt brushes Rocky’s hands aside, smiling a little at the disgruntled vibration that escapes him. “Oh, chill out.”

“Colt out cold.”

“Ah, well. Pretty close.” Colt brings out the green sweatpants he’s letting his brother borrow. “Don’t actually knock me out cold, though.”

“Colt make no sense, statement,” Rocky trills at him.

“Yeah, you’re not the first one to notice that,” Colt replies, extending the sweatpants to Rocky. “Careful not to rip them, but— these are the pants I brought for him.”

“Cover Grace legs, keep Grace warm, statement,” Rocky says as he takes the fabric in three of his hands, tugging and exploring with curiosity. “Human always cold, cold, cold. Grace struggle to keep heat, statement. Rocky try fix, try keep Grace warm. Rocky worry, worry, worry about Grace.”

“Yeah, me too,” Colt replies, then hesitates. “Hey, Rocky?”

“Yes, Colt Grace?” Rocky asks, focus still mostly on exploring the sweatpants.

“Thanks,” Colt says. Rocky chirps, tilting himself up in the stance that Colt has come to recognize as Rocky looking at him. “For looking after my brother, for keeping him safe. And, you know, for— for loving him. Keeping him alive. Bringing him home, just—” He swipes his hands over his face, digs the heels into his eye sockets. “Jesus Christ. I feel like I can’t stop crying.”

Rocky hums up at him with a pretty, musical trill. “Grace cry too, statement. Grace say human will cry when sad, happy, emotional.”

“Yeah, he’s right.” Colt tells Rocky. Taking a deep breath, he reaches into the bag again, withdraws one of Ryland’s old t-shirts that he found in his closet after— well, after. “Can you read the design on there? I know it’s kind of faded, there.”

“Rocky cannot read when flat, statement,” he replies, as if Colt should know that by— Yeah, actually, Colt probably should know that by now.

“It’s just one of his dumb t-shirts,” Colt explains. “It says— Uhh, ‘I tell bad chemistry jokes because all the good ones argon.’ And it’s got the, like— like, the element square for argon from the periodic table.”

Rocky processes this, then states, “Correct.”

“What is?”

“Bad chemistry joke,” Rocky replies, and Colt snorts a laugh.

“I leave you two alone for five minutes, you’re already making fun of me?” Ryland asks from the bathroom doorway, still wrapped in his towels. All at once, Colt and Rocky are both rushing to help him, but he waves them off. “I’m fine, I can walk a few steps to the bed.”

“Yeah, famous last words,” Colt replies, but he backs off. Rocky hovers more closely, as if glued to him, taking exaggerated slow steps at Ryland’s side. to match his pace. “You should be happy we’re bonding.”

“I am,” Ryland protests. “I’m just curious why it has to be at my expense.” 

“Rocky love Grace,” Rocky tells him. “Shirt still not funny.”

“Oh, just— shove it,” Ryland says, and Rocky shoves his bed into the wall. “Not literally—”

“Okay, I’m just— Here’s your clothes, let me just— turn around, or—” Colt starts to say, pushing the bag toward Ryland and Rocky.

“You’ve been helping me wash myself for weeks,” Ryland reminds him.

“We have to have some boundaries, c’mon, my kids are gonna tease me mercilessly as it is,” Colt complains.

“Rocky help Grace wear clothes!” Rocky exclaims. “Colt help, put Grace belongings in bag, question?”

“Yeah, sure,” Colt says, grateful for a task as he scoots past them into the bathroom again. Ryland, as he always used to, left an organized mess behind him on the sink counter; it takes Colt a few minutes to hunt everything down and repackage it in the toiletries bag. By the time he’s finished, though, and does one final sweep of the little bathroom for anything his brother might have left behind, Ryland is calling out to him.

“I’m decent, you can come back now,” he shouts through the half-closed door.

Colt nudges his way back inside and, for a second, his breath catches.

Ryland looks like himself, moreso than he has at any point since he came back home. Honestly, Colt hadn’t realized just how washed-out and broken-down he’d seemed while he was just wearing those thin hospital gowns every day.

Wearing his own clothes— his stupid t-shirt, Colt’s pants tied just above his hips, a pair of Colt’s sneakers he uses when he’s just dicking around the house, and one of his old cardigans, the— the one with all the deer on it that he used to wear all the time— he just looks so much more like Ryland. Not the shallow, sickly thing he’d been at first, not the haunted, gaunt person who has been struggling to adapt back to life on Earth; he’s him.

“I can’t believe you kept this,” Ryland comments, rubbing his hands up and down his own sleeves on opposite sides. “This was one of my favorites.”

“Yeah, I remembered.” Colt scratches at the back of his head, says, “Uhh— I packed all your stuff back up. Got anything in here you want to bring?”

“Grace Rocky have stuff bag,” Rocky informs him, skittering under the bed. He backs out quickly, dragging an oversized canvas bag behind him. It looks like it’s just stuffed with things recovered from their ship; Colt recognizes more than a few of the blankets and articles of clothing as Ryland’s. He should recognize them, honestly; he watched his recordings so many times, they all feel burnt into his memory. “Bring home, question?”

“Of course we can bring your stuff home, it’s your stuff,” Colt tells him. Rocky hoists the bag over his head, triumphant. “And you can carry that.”

Rocky gives a shuddering little tilt that Colt’s started realizing is his equivalent of a frown. “Rocky carry Grace.”

“Whoa, hey, okay, nobody’s carrying Grace,” Ryland protests. “Grace is leaving here of his own accord, statement.”

“Grace not walk! Grace hurt!” Rocky exclaims at him, his tone ratcheting up, shriller.

“We’ll just use the wheelchair, it’s fine,” Colt tries to intercede, but Rocky just turns on him with a frustrated chime of a growl.

“What if Grace hurt again, question?” Rocky asks, pushing in closer to Ryland. Colt’s not sure how much closer he can get, but Rocky finds the space, that territorial little guy with no goddamn boundaries. He pushes his face into Ryland’s, insists, “Rocky help Grace. Grace not hurt again, statement. Rocky fix, Rocky protect, protect, protect, statement. Rocky promise.”

Ryland watches Rocky for a long moment before he glances towards Colt. He just shrugs, and Ryland sighs, his head tipping back.

“Fine— Fine, I’ll just use the wheelchair.” He points at Rocky, tells him, “You are not carrying me, statement.”

“Rocky push wheelchair.”

“I don’t need—”

“Rocky or Colt push Grace wheelchair, statement!”

“Fine,” Ryland exclaims again.

Without looking, Colt holds his hand up to Rocky. For a moment, he thinks he’s not going to respond— of course he’s not, he’s from another planet, maybe he doesn’t even know what a high-five is— before Rocky reaches up and lightly taps his curled fist into the center of Colt’s palm.

“Fist me,” Rocky shouts, and Colt nearly chokes on his next breath.

“It’s fist bump, Rock, I know you know this,” Ryland half-scolds, half-laughs.

“Fist my bump!”

“Jesus Christ,” Colt laughs, doubling over, and laughs even harder when he realizes Ryland is laughing, too.

It’s a good thing they ended up leaving when they did, because Colt can see the way his brother is wilting, growing more and more tired the longer he’s awake and moving around.

All of the doctors told them both that this is to be expected— from Rocky and Ryland both, though so far, Rocky seems to be adapting to life on Earth better than Ryland has been re-adapting. Then again, nobody’s ever come back from this long a mission, that far in deep space, just to come hurtling back years later barely clinging to life. Everyone’s kind of been flying by the seat of their pants on this one.

But— at the same time, Colt watches Ryland struggle to stand, to walk, to sit up, to hold a cup, to even lift his head some days. He takes it all in stride— if it bothers him, he hasn’t been letting on overmuch. Definitely not when Colt compares his behavior to his own after his accident— well, not accident, he knows now, but, still.

He’d thrown things, he’d yelled himself hoarse, he had alternatively ignored Ryland or screamed the worst things he could think of to say at him just so he would go away, so he wouldn’t have to see Colt like this, so he didn’t have to care.

Of course, Ryland never left. Endless wells of patience exist in his brother that Colt will never understand.

Every one of the doctors, and scientists, and nurses that come to visit tell them the same thing: Ryland has a long way to go on the path to healing— they’re always saying that, talking about his path to healing— but his body is readjusting and he is getting better. It’s just taking more time than Colt, himself, has patience for.

He wants to see Ryland happy, healthy, getting to actually enjoy being back here instead of just being shuttled from doctor’s appointment to doctor’s appointment without anything else in between.

“This contraption makes me feel like I’m back on the ship,” Ryland comments as he examines all the options on the panel set inside the arm of the wheelchair. “Who designed this thing?”

“Rocky help design,” Rocky tells him. Ryland doesn’t even look surprised, though his face does get a bit redder. “Colt Grace help Rocky design. Colt can see color like Grace, statement. Want wheelchair to be beautiful.”

“See?” Colt asks his brother. “Now, when we went through all this trouble to make you a dope chair, why wouldn’t you want to use it?”

“Just went right for the guilt trip, didn’t you?” Ryland asks. He’s smiling, Colt can tell even with his face turned down, as he pokes at one of the buttons.

“Well, I could remind you of when you made me use a wheelchair after I got hurt,” Colt says, earning a sigh from his brother. “And how you kept insisting it was for the best so I didn’t hurt myself worse, I think? Was what you said? And I can’t help but remember that Rocky just said—”

“Oh, you just— knock it off,” Ryland grumbles. Colt knows he’s won, though, and gets to watch Ryland push more firmly on the button under his fingertip and suddenly lurch forward a few steps. “Shoot.”

“It’ll all take some getting used to, probably, I think,” Colt comments, glancing towards Rocky. He can tell by the way he tilts that Rocky’s looking back at him. This is actually getting normal, God help him. “We can practice more at home.”

“Home,” Ryland echoes, taking his hand off the chair’s controls. “Geez. Home has— You know, home’s been Rocky and the Hail Mary for years now. It’s weird to be on— you know. Dry land.”

“The lonely sailor, lost at sea,” Colt sighs with a slight smile, teasingly dramatic.

“Grace not lonely, Grace not lost!” Rocky protests. “Grace have Rocky, statement! Rocky watch Grace sleep, protect Grace, bring Grace home to Earth.”

“You sure did, buddy, and I can’t thank you enough for it,” Colt replies. With a gesture towards Rocky, he asks his brother, “Do you want to upset this poor guy, who loves you so much?”

Ryland goes a little pinker at being teased, but he still sighs and says, “No, I don’t.”

“Grace good, listen to sibling, listen to boyfriend,” Rocky insists, and Ryland groans.

“What’d you have to teach him all that for?” Ryland asks Colt. “You know how long I avoided explaining that one?”

“Oh, but mate and partner were just getting thrown around all over the fucking place,” Colt comments, earning a swat on the wrist from his brother.

“Grace allow Rocky protect boyfriend partner mate!” Rocky insists. “Grace not hurt again, demand! Grace not be stupid foolish—”

“Alright, alright,” Ryland interrupts him, “I get it. I’ll use the chair.”

Colt pauses, not sure if he wants to ask, but knowing that he has to. “Do you want to… like, you want to say goodbye to anyone before we leave?”

He very carefully doesn’t say Stratt’s name, but he knows Ryland can hear it anyway.

“Grace murderers,” Rocky grumbles in a low, aggravated sort of tone.

“Attempted murderers, statement,” Ryland corrects him. Rocky just growls in that bass-heavy music again. “And it was for a good cause.”

“He’s always been like this,” Colt tells Rocky. “Too good for his own good.”

“Hey, I’m not always good!” Ryland exclaims.

“Good boy with two shoes,” Rocky throws at Ryland like it’s an accusation.

“It’s Goody Two-Shoes,” Ryland corrects him.

“You taught him Goody Two-Shoes but not boyfriend?” Colt asks.

“Dr. Grace?” interrupts another voice, one that Colt knows a little too well and kind of wishes he’d never heard at all.

“Oh, hey, hi,” Ryland replies, throwing a wave in Stratt’s direction. She pauses just a bit in the hall, hesitates. “We were just about to head out. Do I need to, like— fill out any forms, or sign anything?”

“Haven’t they gotten you to sign enough shit?” Colt can’t help but say, glaring sideways at Stratt.

“He did not have to sign anything,” Stratt answers. “I made the decision, and I—” She makes this face, as if she’d rather be chewing on nails, but she still manages to tell Ryland, “I apologize, for the effect it had on you. I would do it again, but I still regret…”

She trails off, apparently unable to figure out where she wants that sentence to end. Ryland saves her, just like he always does for everyone.

“Hey, water under the bridge,” Ryland replies. Maybe it’s easier for him to forgive her— or, at least, to act like he has— than to hold onto the anger. Ryland’s always sort of been that way.

That’s okay. Colt can hold onto this particular anger enough for the both of them.

There’s a brief moment of silence that feels uncomfortable to Colt, but Ryland seems to have no problem with it, just steadily watching Stratt, as if waiting for her to continue— or dismiss him, Colt’s not sure which.

Then, though, Stratt clears her throat and tells them, “Ah— No, there is nothing to sign. You are free to leave. I only…” She pauses again, then reaches into a pocket within her jacket and pulls out a small, stiff, white card. The front is all clean, black text neatly printed onto the cardstock; the back, though, has a string of numbers handwritten with a dark, swooping pen. “If you ever do desire to… talk. I will answer this as often as I am able.”

“Wow,” Ryland says, accepting the card. “Eva Stratt’s direct line. Lucky me.”

“Rocky carry for Grace,” Rocky insists as he slips the card right out of Ryland’s hand and stuffs it into the overfull canvas bag he’s carrying in the bend of one arm. Ryland gives a tired huff of a laugh, shrugs in Stratt’s direction as if asking, What can you do?

About his jealous alien boyfriend. Fucking— leave it to Ryland.

“I’ll keep in touch, I’m sure,” Ryland tells her. Colt can tell he’s getting visibly exhausted, and so he leans over the back of his brother’s wheelchair, tugs up the brakes, takes hold of the handles. “Guess that’s my cue.”

“It would appear so.” Stratt looks from Ryland to Colt, then down at Rocky. “Well. Goodbye, I suppose.”

“It’s not really goodbye,” Ryland tells her. “Not like last time, right? Look at that! The guinea pig came back anyway.”

“Sorry, the what?” Colt asks.

“Grace murderers experiment with Grace,” Rocky rumbles, chimes tilted down and darker.

“Okey doke, that’s definitely our cue, let’s fuck off outta here,” Colt says. To Stratt, he adds, “Great to see you again, it’s been a blast. Now, I’m just gonna scoot around you, if that’s okay—”

Stratt backs up, backs off, stepping back into the hall and out of their way. She does a good job of tucking herself back, for someone with such a presence.

“I have arranged for the security detail to escort you home,” Stratt tells them. “And those officers will remain on a rotation outside, and will monitor your home for the time being until we can be certain your location is secure.”

Colt prickles at this just like he had the first time Stratt brought this up. It had ended up being one of Stratt’s conditions for releasing Ryland to him, even though Colt didn’t think there should have been any conditions to bring his own brother home with him. It’s not as if he’s the one who kidnapped him and shot him into fucking space.

Rocky, he understood a little more, but—

Alien or not, Rocky is Ryland’s, and it’s clear they were never going to go anywhere without each other. If there was going to be an alien just— living in Colt’s house, he sort of gets why Stratt might want to keep an eye on them. He doesn’t like it, but— he has to concede, he doesn’t mind the back-up if something does happen, God fucking forbid.

“Thanks for all of that,” Ryland replies. “Hey, do you know if any of them have any allergies?”

“We can worry about their snack preferences later, Ry,” Colt interjects. “We should probably get going.”

“Ah. Yes.” Stratt looks at Ryland like she’s studying him, staring straight through him, before she adds, “We— You are very lucky. That you have come home.”

“Yeah, I’m a regular good-luck charm,” Ryland says with a hint of that dryness that never fails to make Colt smile a little.

“More like you’re lucky he came home,” Colt comments in what’s meant to be under his breath, but Rocky squeaks a laugh that just draws more attention to him.

“Yes,” Stratt agrees. “I suppose I am.”

“Well,” Ryland says, after a moment of tense silence. “I’ll see you again soon, right?”

“Maybe,” Rocky grumbles, actually low enough that only Colt hears him, standing right beside him. Colt sneaks a hand down and they bump fists.

“I hope so,” Stratt says, then steps back to clear their way. “I will… see you soon, then, Dr. Grace.”

“See you,” he replies as Colt starts pushing him forward again. Ryland gives her a wave as they take him off, then leans to look back and wave one last time at her before they’re turning the corner and she’s gone.

“She’s really not that bad,” Ryland says. “I mean, I like her, and I’m the one she sent up into space.”

“You can like her all you want,” Colt replies. “I’m sure she’s a perfectly nice person, if you like her so much. I just struggle with forgiving the person who shot my baby brother off to die.”

“I’m five minutes younger than you,” Ryland protests, then softens a bit, shoulders sagging. He tilts his head back so he can meet Colt’s eyes. “Hey. I’m sorry. I keep forgetting how hard this must’ve been for you, too.”

“Like you said,” Colt replies, “I wasn’t the one in space.”

“No, but you were the one who had to stay here and survive,” Ryland says. “I didn’t know what was going on back on Earth, but I— I remembered you, and I knew you’d get through it. I had this feeling, like— like, I’d know if you died. I just had to help you— I mean, help everyone on Earth, but I just kept thinking about you, and my students, and I just— I wanted to fix it for you.” Ryland reaches up and back, pats at Colt’s hand before taking it. “You didn’t know where I was, or if I was alive—”

“Look, we don’t actually have to talk about this,” Colt interjects weakly, feeling the telltale prickling starting to burn the backs of his eyes.

Ryland squeezes his hand, then releases him. “I get why you’d be mad. If someone took you from me and sent you off to die, I don’t…” His throat clicks as he pauses, then turns back around, faces frontwards again. “I get it.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Colt tells him.

“I know,” Ryland replies, simple as that, before he’s rerouting the conversation, asking, “Hey, Rock?”

“Yes, Grace, question?” Rocky asks, stumbling alongside Ryland’s wheelchair as Colt navigates him in reverse through the halls to get him out to the parking lot.

“What’re you most excited to see on Earth?” Ryland asks.

“Meet Grace family!” Rocky exclaims. “See Earth beach, Earth water. See Grace home. Explore Earth flora, fauna, go on ♪♫♪ with Grace.”

“What was that word in there?” Colt asks, sliding smoothly around a corner, the wheelchair not even tipping a little bit. He wonders how much convincing he would need to do to get Ryland to let Colt teach him tricks in this thing.

“Uhh— It’s like a hike, basically, statement,” Ryland replies. “It’s sort of translated like— long walk in nature, in Eridian.”

“♪♫♪!” Rocky squeaks again. Colt tries to add it to his mental Eridian dictionary.

The entire walk down to the entry level and out to the parking garage, Colt just attempts to ignore the countless security officers watching them like hawks. It feels like there are eyes on them every goddamn step of the way. Even the non-descript cars outside feel absurdly obvious to Colt, too plain to be anything but a disguise.

“Alright, here we go,” Colt tells him as they pull up alongside the van. “Watch, remember, it’s got that cool fricking, uhh… lift thing, hold on.”

While Ryland lets Colt show him the controls, testing out the lift built into the back of the van, Rocky throws the bags into the front passenger seat and practically climbs onto Colt’s shoulders, demanding to be shown how the device operates.

“How lift function, question?” Rocky asks, leaning and peeling at the panel attached to the lift inside the van.

“Look, I got the manual, you can check it out,” Colt tells him. “I even got the video version so you can actually, y’know, process it and know what it says.” To Ryland, he asks, “Do you think we could teach him Braille?”

“Braille form of language raised for Rocky touch, question?” Rocky asks.

“That’s the one,” Colt says.

“Seen on portable Earth thinking machine!” Rocky exclaims. “Human touch for language, statement. Rocky like very, very, very much. Rocky learn, question?”

“Somehow, I think you can do pretty much anything you want to do,” Colt replies. “Okay, watch this, and then we can tie the chair down inside. The guys showed me how to do it, like, a hundred times, I wanted to make sure I got it right.”

Ryland watches the whole thing quietly before he blurts out of nowhere, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Colt asks. “The fuck’re you sorry for? You didn’t do anything—”

“You have to do all this—” Ryland gestures with a frustrated hand towards the van. “—all this stupid— stupid stuff for me, just because—”

“Just because you spent years in space and need to recover?” Colt asks. “Just because you need, like— mobility assistance stuff? I don’t remember you saying any shit like that when I had to relearn how to fucking walk.”

“Yeah, but—” Ryland starts, then stops.

“But what?” Colt asks as Rocky fiddles with the controls on the lift.

Ryland pauses for a long moment before he actually opens his mouth, tells Colt, “I don’t know. It’s different.”

“Yeah, it’s different,” Colt agrees. “It’s different because I got hurt when a jealous fucking idiot made me break my back for no good goddamn reason, and you’re recovering from saving multiple planets, you— fucking dingus.”

“Fucking ♩♫♪♫♪,” Rocky echoes.

“Should’ve known you were the one teaching him curse words,” Ryland comments. After sighing again, he says, “I just— I don’t know. It’s hard being back, I guess. I don’t know how to act anymore.”

“Just be yourself, I don’t care,” Colt replies. “Look, you’re just coming back to my place. If you want to be left alone, just— say it, and everyone’ll leave you alone. It’s gotta suck, having to— to come back like this, but I’m just glad you’re here.” He squeezes Ryland’s shoulder. “You’ve always been super weird. I’m used to it.”

“Thanks,” Ryland replies. It’s like he’s still trying to sound dry, but he can’t quite manage it. Again— Colt gets it.

“You got it.” Colt motions for him to follow, says, “C’mon, let me show you the lift, too. It’s pretty cool, actually. You probably are gonna understand how it works more than I will.”

“Hey, I mean it,” Ryland stops him. “Thanks, thank you. This— It means a lot, that you’re— You’d be willing—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Colt replies. “You’d do it for me. Hell, you did do it for me.”

“Rocky go up!” Rocky exclaims from the lift as it starts grinding upwards. “Rocky decipher lift, statement!”

“Look at you go, bud,” Ryland comments, leaning forward to watch him. “Think it’s gonna work for me?”

“Grace less weight than Rocky, Grace fine when travel up,” Rocky answers in a loud trill. Colt glances over his shoulder, makes sure none of the security officers are going to respond to him. It doesn’t seem like they’re reacting; he still keeps his eyes open, hyperaware, ensuring nobody comes towards them.

“I got a spot for you, too, Rocky,” Colt tells him, hoisting himself up into the back of the van to show him the special seat and belts installed just to keep Rocky secure. The last thing any of them need is Rocky hurtling through the windshield if anything happens. “What do you think?”

“Colt make special place for Rocky!” Rocky chimes in high-pitched and excited squeaks.

“Yeah, of course,” Colt replies. “You’re, like— I don’t know, you’re like family now. Gotta have your own seat.”

Rocky vibrates a little, then chitters out, “Rocky happy for Earth family, Grace family, statement.”

“Yeah,” Colt echoes. “I guess we’re your family now, too.”

He only realizes afterwards that maybe he shouldn’t be saying things like that, not while he’s well aware that Rocky had to leave his entire planet behind— and his dead crew, and his mate, and probably family of his own, too— but Rocky just chirps again, then knocks himself into Colt, his head shoving into his stomach. It takes Colt a moment to realize he’s— hugging him, or something?

“Oh, hey,” Colt says, ducking a little to put one arm around Rocky. Even through the sweater and the xenonite suit, he’s still just so warm. “Yeah, buddy. You save my brother, you’re family. That’s just how it works.”

Rocky bonks against him a couple more times before he remembers Ryland behind them and whirls to help him onto the ramp, to bring him upwards into the van.

It takes a little bit of fiddling and figuring, but, together, they manage to get Ryland tied down in his spot and Rocky belted up in his. Colt checks their straps multiple times— then a couple more times, for good measure, before Ryland pushes at him to head for the driver’s seat.

“Don’t get too crazy, alright?” Ryland asks.

“You’d think you’d get over your motion sickness after hurtling through space for years,” Colt replies, buckling himself in.

“Yeah, never really did.” Ryland rolls down his window without asking or hesitating, sticking his head out through the opening. “Embarrassing, right?”

“Eh, could be worse— Ooh, almost forgot.” Colt reaches for the duffel bag stuffed into the passenger seat with Rocky and Ryland’s stuff from the ship, tugs out one of his baseball caps. “Here, you can put that on. Might help you feel— I don’t know, more disguised?”

“Oh, since you’re so famous,” Ryland replies.

“Little bit more famous since we share a face,” Colt shoots right back. He glances in the rearview mirror, sees Ryland pulling the hat on all the same. When he turns to the open window, he shuts his eyes, sighs into the slight breeze as the van starts moving. After a moment of watching, Colt asks, “Want some music? I can turn the radio on.”

“Yes, please,” Ryland replies, tilting his head back against the headrest on his chair. His hand snakes upwards, creeps out the window; he stretches out, lets the wind smack against his palm, and he grins, his eyes going red just before Colt looks away, back towards the road and the radio. “I didn’t— I really didn’t realize just how much I missed it here.”

“It’s a highway,” Colt says, as if he doesn’t understand.

“Haven’t seen a highway in years,” Ryland murmurs, coasting his hand through the air as the van moves.

“Highway exciting, statement!” Rocky exclaims. “Music beautiful, Grace beautiful, Earth beautiful, beautiful, beautiful!”

“Yeah, you like it?” Ryland asks, glancing over at him, apparently the only thing that can draw his attention away from the view outside his window.

“Love Earth, love visit beautiful Earth Grace show Rocky,” Rocky chirps back at him. “Amaze, amaze, amaze! Rocky love Earth!”

Colt glances back up into the mirror in time to see Ryland staring at Rocky. His hand reaches out before he pauses, curls it back in. He’s expecting Rocky wouldn’t have noticed, but he stops Ryland’s hand midway between them, catches him, reels him back in, and Colt makes himself look away. Not a moment for him, he thinks.

Instead, he turns up the radio a couple of notches and watches the world fly by through his windshield. He’s done this drive thousands of times, it feels like, but— now, he’s trying to imagine it how Ryland must be seeing it, after years away and thinking he’d never come back, or how Rocky must be seeing it, a distant planet he’s seeing in person for the very first time. It really does seem so much prettier like that. Something special. It feels good to remember that.

“Grace, what that, question?” Rocky asks, tapping at the glass of his window. Colt glances back, then hits the button to roll down his window, too. “Rocky window disappear, question?”

“Just put it down for you,” Colt replies. “Can you— Sorry, I don’t know if it’s insensitive to ask if you can feel the breeze?”

Rocky hums. “Rocky not feel Earth atmosphere through suit.”

Ryland watches him for a moment before he turns back to his own window. He shucks the hat and leans as far to the side as he can.

“It’s like this, Rock,” Ryland tells him. “I can feel it on my face, it’s like… Erid has wind, right?”

“Correct, statement.”

“Well, it’s just like that,” Ryland tells him. “It’s really freeing, feeling the wind in your hair, pushing at your face, all that. Especially after so long without it. I’ve really missed this.” His hand is still tangled in Rocky’s, Colt can see, but he doesn’t let his gaze linger, stays focused on the road. “You know, Colt and I used to go on drives all the time.”

“Colt Grace like drives, question?” Rocky asks.

“Yeah,” Colt answers. His throat is unexpectedly thick, enough that he has to clear it before continuing. “Part of how I got into my job in the first place. I’m pretty good at driving cars.”

“And crashing them,” Ryland adds.

“For money.”

“Most of the time.”

“Hey, I’m responsible now,” Colt defends himself with a grin. “I’ve got, like— a house and kids and shit. I’m a whole adult.”

Ryland glances towards him, then away, back out the window.

“Those are cows, Rocky,” Ryland says eventually. “Looks like a whole herd of them, see?”

“Rocky see cow!” Rocky exclaims. “Earth wildlife! Amaze, amaze, amaze!”

He’s so genuinely enthusiastic that Colt can’t help smiling again, leaving them to it.

“What that, question?” Rocky asks.

“Those are oak trees,” Ryland replies.

“What that, question?”

“Those are flowers. They’re all sort of pink and purple. It’s really pretty in the sunshine like this.”

“What that, question?”

“That is a lake. Sizable body of standing water.”

“Rocky Grace go swimming, question?”

“I think you might sink,” Ryland says. “But maybe we can come up with something that’ll help you float. You’d like it. Ooh, you know, I could work on a version of your ball that has inflatable attachments—”

“What that, question?” Rocky interrupts him, pointing.

“That is a billboard advertising a local lawyer.”

“What local lawyer, question?”

“This is fun,” Colt comments. “Are you guys having fun? I’m having fun.”

Ryland and Rocky both spend most of the drive enthralled by the world passing by outside their windows. Over and over again, Rocky asks what every single thing is; over and over again, endlessly patient and impossibly excited, Ryland tells him what every single thing is.

The entire time, they’ve both got their heads hanging out their open windows like overjoyed dogs. They revel in the fresh air— or, Ryland does, and Rocky chirps his enjoyment by extension. Raising their voices over the whipping wind, they keep shouting to each other; Colt thinks he enjoys that more than the music on the radio, or the wind on his own face, or the view outside the van along the sides of the highway.

He’s just— It’s cheesy, yeah, for sure, but he’s just happy to have his brother back, and to see him so happy, and— and to have someone who wants to see Ryland that happy, too.

“Hey, are we there yet?” Ryland asks from the back.

“Are we there yet, question?” Rocky echoes.

“Jesus, you’re worse than the kids,” Colt replies. “We’re almost there, just a little while longer.” He pauses, then asks, “Want to see something cool?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Rocky exclaims.

“What is it, question?” Ryland asks, leaning forward, just as excitable, just as excited.

“You’ve actually seen this before, Ry,” Colt replies. “But it’s been a while.” Glancing in his rearview, then his wing mirrors, and seeing no other cars, he shifts in his seat and leans forward a little. “Hold on, guys.”

Ryland instantly grips the arms of his chair, turning towards Rocky, telling him, “Seriously, hold on—” just before Colt punches down on the gas pedal.

The van lurches, but the engine’s solid, he checked it out himself. It’s rumbling in a few moments and jolting forward as he pushes the speed further, faster, faster, until the wind is drowning out even the thoughts in his head and the rush of speed is spiraling through his veins and he’s laughing, loving every second.

“Rocky Grace Colt go fast, fast, fast!” Rocky squeals over the wind that nearly overpowers even his voice. “Fast Earth travel machine amaze, amaze, amaze!”

Colt just keeps laughing, sticking his own hand out the window. It feels amazing. He missed this feeling.

When he glances back at Ryland for a split second, and sees him laughing, too, his hair whipping backwards, his borrowed cap clutched in his hand, so alive and so here, coming back home with him— he can’t even remember the last time he felt so whole.

He knows where all the speed traps are, though, and their speed-demon pushing-the-speed-limit driving only lasts for a few minutes before he evens out their pace again. His heart is thundering in his chest in that way that always makes him feel best.

“Colt Grace drive fun, statement!” Rocky cheers, waving his hands at Colt. “Rocky take turn!”

“Maybe next time, there, bud,” Colt replies. “Besides, we’re almost home. See that place up there on the hill?”

“Do you have a gate?” Ryland asks, peering out the window where Colt is pointing.

“You go through what I’ve been through, you put up a gate.” Colt leans out the window as he slows the van before said gate, pushing their long keycode into the panel to the side. He ignores all the cars that are parking on his street, security officers surrounding his house, trying to be inconspicuous. Colt’s not sure how successful they are, but then, well, he didn’t get much of a say in the matter.

“Wow,” Ryland breathes as the gate swings open and Colt starts creeping the van up their hill of a driveway. “This place is huge, Colt. Holy smokes.”

“Yeah, well.” Colt maneuvers the van easily up towards the small roundabout that’ll bring them to his front door. “Jody and I got the money, and— Y’know, we figured the girls deserved something nice after— All that shit, whatever.” Colt glances back at them as he parks the van, then twists in his seat to actually look at them. They both look back, tilting their heads in similar fashion at the same time. Well— Rocky tilts his— body, but. Still. “Guess it worked out, now that we’re gonna have the two of you here, too, right?”

Ryland hesitates, then says, “Colt, if— I mean, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Colt interrupts him, cutting off the well-worn argument. “I’m serious. If you’re anywhere, I’d like it to be with me. I mean, as long as that’s alright with you.”

With a jerk of his head, nodding, Ryland answers, “Yeah. It’s alright with me.” He clears his throat, says, “Thank you,” and Colt waves him off.

“Don’t mention it.” He points through the windshield. “You see that over there, Rocky? That— like, box that’s jutting out of the house, there?”

“Rocky observe outline extending from home structure, statement,” Rocky agrees.

“That’s how you can get in and out, if you don’t want to wear your suit,” Colt tells him. “The scientists explained it all to me, I guess it’s like— an airlock? Sort of thing? Decom…pressor? I don’t know exactly, they left videos for that, too, but— We put a ton of tunnels and shit in the house so you can go wherever you want.”

He says it casually, like his home wasn’t functionally repurposed by some of the world’s greatest scientific minds to house an alien that’s bonded with his brother. It’s just normal, like he said. Just a regular fucking Tuesday.

“Colt adapt home for Rocky to live, question?” Rocky exclaims. “Rocky move around! Rocky explore home! Rocky stay with Grace, follow Grace everywhere—”

“Maybe not everywhere—” Ryland interrupts, blushing once again.

“Everywhere, statement,” Rocky repeats firmly. “Rocky try atmosphere adaption pod!”

“Wait— Are you sure that thing’s safe?” Ryland asks Colt as Rocky rapidly slams against his belt buckles, trying to find the release buttons and missing multiple times in his clumsy excitement. Speaks volumes to how eager he really is that he’s being messy and not as dexterous as Colt knows he can be, right now.

“They tested it a bajillion times,” Colt tells him. He unbuckles himself and ducks to climb into the back of the van, starting to unwind Rocky from the seatbelts he’s managed to tangle himself in. “And I told them I’d kill them if anything happened to them, so. Probably motivated.”

Ryland scoffs. “You wouldn’t kill them.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.” Colt finally releases Rocky and lets him hurtle out of the van. He’s already sprinting back and forth across the grass before he rolls over on it, then starts somersaulting. “Jesus.”

“Let me out,” Ryland insists, leaning down to tug at his straps.

“Jesus,” Colt repeats. “Just— hold on, would you?”

Ryland’s practically vibrating in place. He might be the more patient one between the two of them, but he certainly doesn’t seem like it when he’s visibly antsy, yearning to be back outside. Colt makes quick work of releasing him, coaxing his chair backwards onto the lift, and taking him outside; the second he gets him out of the van, no hesitation, Ryland is hoisting himself up out of the chair and flopping onto the grass with a massive, contented sigh.

“I missed this,” Ryland exclaims, then rolls himself over, burying his face against the ground. “I missed Earth, wow, I missed— I missed grass, and trees, and— and people, I missed everything.”

Colt scoots his wheelchair off to the side before he drops right down next to him. He lets himself go limp, falling on his back next to his brother just as Rocky hurtles over them, still sprinting back and forth across his lawn.

“We missed you, too,” Colt tells Ryland. He glances over at him just as Ryland turns his own head up, cheek smushed to the grass, glasses akimbo, to look at him in return. “I— I mean, y’know. I missed you.”

Ryland grins, unabashed and happy. Reaching out, he claps at Colt’s cheek, then yawns.

“I missed you, too,” Ryland says as he rolls onto his back again. “Oh, shoot, should— I’m being rude, aren’t I? I should probably have gone inside first and—”

“I don’t think anyone can blame you for this,” Colt tells him. “Just enjoy it. God knows, you’ve earned it.”

Ryland extends his hand into the middle distance between them. Colt doesn’t hesitate to reach out in return this time; he just finds his hand, tangles their fingers up, and squeezes tight without another word.

“Rocky want to see new home, statement!” Rocky exclaims, coming to stand up over them. Ryland told him that Rocky weighs twice as much back on his home planet, due to Erid’s gravity compared to Earth’s; even having half the weight he must be used to— or maybe not, anymore, if he’s been in space for fifty years?— but, still, even with that, he knows how to lean and be imposing without actually crushing either of them.

“Yeah, I can show you around if you want,” Colt agrees. He grunts as he shoves himself up, knees clicking.

“Wow, you sound old,” Ryland comments, holding his hands up for Colt to help him back into his chair.

“Says Rogue over here,” Colt says with a gesture towards Ryland’s streaked hair. If anything, he looks younger than Colt, despite the white and the stress built into his face now, but Colt’s been trying not to think too hard about that.

“Space can be really stressful,” Ryland defends himself. Once in his chair again, he touches the crown of his head, then reaches for the baseball cap Colt gave him to tug back on.

“Aw, hey, I wasn’t trying to be an ass,” Colt says.

“What ass, question?” Rocky asks. Ryland glares at Colt.

“You can take that one,” Colt tells him as he flips the power back on for his wheelchair. “Look, I built an entryway for you, too.”

Ryland looks up and away from the panel in his wheelchair’s arm and searches for where Colt is pointing for a moment before he spots the ramp up to the front door. He pauses, then turns his head down, buries his face in his hand.

“Shit, what’s wrong?” Colt asks, immediately nervous, scanning the ramp for whatever obvious imperfection Ryland must have spotted. “Is it a bad angle? I thought it was a gradual enough slope, but if it’s not, I can just—”

“Stop, just—” Ryland chokes out, then shakes his head again. “Sorry. Just— I’m sorry.” His breath hitches, and he rubs at his eyes for a moment before looking back up towards the house. “Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you,” Colt protests. “You saved the world, man. You deserve a nice ramp.” Slamming the back doors of the van shut, he asks, “Want me to push you, or d’you wanna try out those cool controls there instead?”

Ryland hesitates, then says, “I’m going to try it,” and examines the panel again. After taking a breath, he takes hold of the joystick-looking knob at the front and pushes it forward. The chair creeps forward. He pushes it a little harder, and the chair moves a little faster.

“Maybe not Rogue,” Colt comments, jogging to catch up with him. “You’ve got more of a Professor X vibe right now.”

“Be quiet,” Ryland replies with a smile.

“Who Professor X, question?” Rocky asks as he hauls up behind them, dragging their bags from the van. “Friend of Grace? Friend of Colt? Rocky protect Grace Colt from Professor X?”

“Remember when I told you about the X-Men, Rocky?” Ryland asks, and Rocky chirps a long sound that sounds like his equivalent of “Ohhhhhh, right.” “He’s their leader, remember? When I—”

“Magneto mate,” Rocky recalls.

Colt does not stifle his laugh. “You kidding me? You’re still—”

“Be quiet,” Ryland repeats, more urgently this time, speeding up his pace as he pushes the wheelchair faster up the ramp.

“Okay— Rocky, you want me to show you how to use that airlock thingy?” Colt asks.

“Rocky know how to use, statement,” Rocky tells him with a few excited trills before he’s sprinting off for his door inside, abandoning their bags behind him.

“Guess I’ll just grab these, then,” Colt mumbles as he scoops them both up and hangs them off his shoulders, trying not to look as burdened by their weight as he is. Christ, Rocky’s strong. “Oh— Ry, by the way, the kids wanted to surprise you, but I told them nothing big yet. Just a heads-up.”

Ryland pauses for a moment before he asks, “Not really much of a surprise then, right?”

“I didn’t know how you’d feel about it, I didn’t want to overwhelm you and Rocky the second you got to leave that— stupid facility.” Colt readjusts the straps of the bags on his shoulders. “Plus, I know you’ve got that— event at the end of the month with all those big, important people. Figured you might want to save your big-party energy for that.”

“Did they invite all the kids, question?” Ryland asks, already excited by the concept.

“Yeah, they took everyone on your guest list,” Colt tells him. “Some perks to being the savior of the universe, I guess.” He knocks his brother’s shoulder lightly. “And none of them are really kids anymore. But— I mean, I think most of them are coming. All of them wanted to.”

For a long few seconds, Ryland seems to think this over. Colt’s not sure what it is he’s thinking until Ryland says, “I guess they’d all be a lot older now. Probably went through some— some really rough times, there.”

“But they’re not anymore, though,” Colt reminds him. “That’s because of you. Don’t sell yourself short, Ryland, I swear to God, you’re literally the reason we’re all still here. The least we all owe you is a nice party and—”

“Nobody owes me anything,” Ryland interrupts him, and it feels final. Colt thinks he gets it this time, too, and he lets his hand fall down, squeezes his brother’s shoulder tighter this time.

“Want to—” Colt starts to ask before he hears loud shrieks and squeals coming from inside the house. “I think Rocky—”

“—beat us to it, yup, he’ll do that,” Ryland finishes, pushing past him. There’s a button beside the door that Colt presses, letting the door swing open automatically. Ryland only gives him a passing glance, but it makes Colt want to hug him so badly that he nearly does.

“We’re home,” Colt calls once they’re inside. “But I think you knew that, since—”

“Dad!” Dana screams, running into the room. Rocky follows just behind her, sprinting along through the tunnels that now wind through their home. “Look, look!”

“Yeah, we’ve been hanging out,” Colt replies, just as Dana turns and slams into one of Rocky’s panels. “Jesus—”

“I’m okay!” she exclaims, straightening back up. With her face pressed to the clear panel, hands pushing at it, she tells Rocky, “You are so cool.”

“Grace family cold!” Rocky exclaims. He’d taken off his xenonite suit and apparently was fine in the tunnels, thank fuck— and apparently, he even took an extra few seconds to put his sweater back on himself, directly against his carapace now without the barrier of the suit. “Colt offspring resemble Grace, statement.”

“Makes sense,” Ryland comments, and Dana whirls on him.

“You’re my uncle, too, right?” Dana asks, as if he’s not identical to her father, and the only person Colt could have possibly been bringing home. He nearly doesn’t even clock the ‘too.’

“I guess I am, yeah,” Ryland replies with a quick sideways glance towards Colt.

“Ry, this is Dana, my younger daughter by about two minutes,” Colt tells him. “Dana, this is your Uncle Ryland.”

“Yeah, no duh,” Dana agrees as she runs for Ryland and throws her arms around him in a hug. Ryland doesn’t hesitate, just wraps her in a hug in return, squeezes her tight.

He must have gone so fucking long without touching another person. Colt thinks he would’ve went nuts if it’d been him.

“Dana Grace make Rocky sweater!” Rocky chirps. “Dana Grace make Rocky beautiful!”

“I’m glad you like it,” Dana says over Ryland’s shoulder. When she pulls back, she turns over her own shoulder and hollers, “Mom! Kyrie! They’re here!” She turns back to Ryland, says, “Wait right here, I have to go get something,” and sprints off.

“Holy smokes, she’s just, like— you, copy-and-pasted,” Ryland comments.

“Shut up,” Colt tells him. “I know, she’s my divine punishment. She keeps talking about wanting to try out stuntwork, and I’m just—”

“No,” Ryland exclaims.

“Right?” Colt says. “I mean, it’s fine for me, but, like—”

“Oh, my God,” Jody says from the doorway to the living room, stopping right there between rooms, her hands going up over her mouth. “Oh, sorry, I’m just— Wow.”

“Long time, no see,” Ryland greets her with a grin. “Thanks for letting me stay here, really, I mean it. It’s not—”

Jody surges forward and wraps him up in a hug, just as her daughter had. She pulls back far more quickly, though, and apologizes, “God, I’m so sorry, I just— I’m glad you’re home, Ryland.”

“Yeah, me too,” Ryland replies.

“And— I mean, well, hello, Rocky,” Jody greets Rocky through the panels. “It’s wonderful to see you in person— Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Earth colloquialism not bother Rocky, statement,” Rocky replies. “Ryland explain many silly Earth sayings, statement.”

“Okay, here we go!” Dana exclaims as she slides back into the room in her sock feet, Kyrie trailing right behind her. While Dana’s hands are full of a stack of party hats, Kyrie holds her finished banner.

Colt whistles, says, “Wow, kid. That’s gorgeous.”

“I used puff paint so Rocky could see it,” Kyrie explains as she points at the raised lettering reading Welcome Home!, surrounded by stars and little rockets and swirls of cosmic color like deep space. “Do you like it?”

“Rocky love Colt offspring art, statement!” Rocky insists, getting closer to her. To Kyrie’s credit, she doesn’t so much as flinch back; she only leans in, lifting the banner higher so Rocky can get a better look. “Colt offspring Kyrie, question?”

“That’s me, yeah,” Kyrie agrees, and Rocky chirps, excited.

“Colt offspring identical!” he notes. “Like Grace identical to Colt Grace!”

“Yeah, we’re twins,” Dana answers as she snaps a party hat onto her head. “How do I get this into your tank, Uncle Rocky?”

Colt does not miss Ryland’s little jolt and glance at hearing that, but he doesn’t comment on it, either.

“You can put it in through the airlock, he can grab it from there,” Colt tells them. They’re both bolting in seconds, sprinting out of the room and back towards Rocky’s entrance into the house, and Colt just sighs. “Good, now there’s two of them.”

“Three,” Jody corrects as she rises up, straightens out. She takes one of the party hats Dana abandoned behind herself and tugs it onto her own head before offering the last three to Kyrie, Colt, and Ryland. “She’ll definitely make a stink if you don’t, so.”

“No, I want to,” Ryland replies, taking his colorful little party hat in his hands. He seems to observe it for a long moment, more intense than Colt is expecting, before he pulls the thin string down and situates the hat on his head. It motivates Colt to do the same, even if he thinks it’ll probably look ridiculous. Maybe even especially because he thinks that. Once it’s securely in place, Ryland glances up, catches Kyrie’s eye, says, “Hi. You’re Kyrie, right?”

“Right, yeah,” Kyrie says, quiet. “And you’re my uncle.”

“I am, yeah,” Ryland replies, and Colt can’t help but see the similarities between them. “Thanks for the banner. It really is nice. And for letting me live here, that’s— also really nice.”

“I don’t mind,” Kyrie assures him. “You can share my bathroom, if you want. I keep it neater than Dana’s.”

“Your uncles have their own bathroom,” Colt tells her, tugging her in for a side-hug, mentally setting aside calling Ryland and Rocky his children’s uncles, plural, at the same time he’s setting aside wondering what the fuck Rocky would do in a bathroom. Not his concern, he decides, on any front. “Thanks for offering though, kid. You’re the best, you know?”

“I heard that!” Dana shouts as she’s sprinting back down the hall. When she skids back into the room, party hat firmly fixed on her head, Rocky isn’t far behind, skittering through his tunnels to slam into the closest panel to her and motion towards the party hat strapped on top of him.

“Grace, Grace, Grace!” Rocky exclaims. “Dana Grace give Rocky party hat! Rocky wear Earth accessory on self! Rocky beautiful!”

“It looks really good, Rock,” Ryland tells him, and Rocky’s already sprinting for him, getting as near to him as he can in his system of tubes.

“Grace wear accessory too!” Rocky cheers, tapping at the glass. “Grace beautiful, Rocky beautiful! Rocky family beautiful!”

“Do you like it?” Dana asks, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“It’s really amazing,” Ryland says, before he tells her, always so honest, his filter all but disappeared in the intervening years, “You are amazing, I— Both of you, all of you, I just—” He shakes his head, tells them, “I just— I— I feel really lucky. I never— I never thought I’d see you again, Colt, or— or even get to ever see Earth again for real, but— but now—” His throat is choking up, making Colt’s burn just the same, but he can’t help it, neither of them can. “I mean, I get to be back home, and I have— I have nieces, and I still— I still have a family, and I’m home, and I have Rocky, and it’s just— it’s everything— everything I could even think to want, I can’t— It’s— It’s a lot, I just—”

Ryland stops being able to speak, choking up as he drops his head back down into his hands and hides himself away like that. Colt glances at his wife, his children, his— brother-in-law, he guesses, before he moves to crouch down next to Ryland.

“Hey,” he murmurs, and Ryland shakes his head. “Hey.”

When Ryland glances up at him, Colt can’t help himself. He just surges in, pulls Ryland into his arms, and hugs him as tightly as he can. In return, Ryland embraces him hard, using all the strength he can muster to cling to him. Colt can even feel when his chest hitches and his hold tightens impossibly harder, far stronger than he has any right being right now.

“I want to know everything,” Ryland mumbles into Colt’s shoulder, and his twin nods. “I want to— to get to talk to you all, I want—” He sniffles, pulls back enough to tell his nieces, “I can’t wait to just talk to you, you’re— You’re just so amazing.”

“Don’t go giving them egos, c’mon, now,” Colt jokingly scolds him. He’s both surprised and not at all surprised to find himself choked up, too. “You—”

Rocky slams into the closest panel to Ryland again, then growls in frustration. “Rocky want hug Grace, statement!”

“We’ve got more of those suits of yours,” Colt tells him. “I should probably reinforce his wheelchair first, though.” He can’t imagine Rocky will ever stop trying to hug his brother, so. Better to just adapt.

Stomping a few times, Rocky huffs, then collapses at Ryland’s side, all his limbs tucked up beneath him. “Rocky want spend time with Grace. Rocky have Earth family now, Rocky love Earth family, love Grace family.”

“Well, you’re— very welcome here, we’re happy to have you,” Jody tells him, a heartbeat before Dana exclaims, “I love you, too!”

There’s a brief pause.

Then, Rocky asks, “Where our bedroom, question?”

Apparently it’s just a foregone conclusion that he and Ryland will be sharing a bedroom, which— yeah, fine. Colt was planning for that, anyway. The guest room was ready just in case, but— honestly? He didn’t really think it was ever in doubt, how they’d be sleeping. He watched all those recordings.

“I can show you, if you want,” Kyrie tells him.

“You know what?” Jody asks, readjusting the party hat on her head at a slightly jauntier angle. “Why don’t we show Rocky to their room, let your dad and your uncle catch up a little?”

Rocky seems to hesitate, pausing as he leans back towards Ryland, but he just waves him off.

“I’ll be there in a couple minutes,” Ryland tells him. “We’re in the same house, we’re safe. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Though Rocky still pauses for another tense moment, he eventually acquiesces, following after Jody and the girls down the hall through his tube network.

Alone with his twin for the first time in— in God knows how long, really— Ryland doesn’t waste time in telling him, “I just— I’m— Thank you. Like, seriously, thank you, I’m just really grateful, I know you don’t have to do this, and I’m— I’m— I’m just so sorry for everything you’ve been through, and this— Obviously, I mean, this took a toll on you— And it’s different, it’s not like one is better or worse or—”

“Hey, hey,” Colt interrupts him, stopping to put a hand on each of Ryland’s shoulders and grip him tight, waiting for him to look at him. When he finally does, Colt dredges up the words he’s been swallowing for years, since his brother got taken from him in the first place. “Ryland. Look, I thought— I thought you were dead. Like, taken against your will, shot up into space, dead.” He makes sure Ryland keeps looking at him, bright eyes swimming in tears behind his glasses, before he says, “I will take you however you’ve come back. You could be, like— a totally anti-social freak speaking in tongues, and I’d still want you here. You don’t need to thank me for that. I mean, you probably will anyway—”

“Yeah, probably,” Ryland agrees with a watery smile, and Colt squeezes him again, his smile nearly exactly identical to his brother’s. “I will. I gotta, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” Colt rattles him a little. “You’re my brother. You’re my twin, you’re like— Fuck, I mean, don’t make fun of me or anything, but you’re, like— half of me.”

“Your other half, question?” Ryland asks. “Aren’t you married?”

“Aren’t you?” Colt asks, and Ryland shuts up real fast. “I’m just saying. I’m not letting you get taken away again. That was the worst fucking thing that ever happened to me— and I have had some shit happen to me.”

“Not to make it a competition, but—”

“Alright, shut up, smartass,” Colt cuts him off, earning one of Ryland’s big, sunshining smiles again. “Look, just—”

Colt can’t decide what else he wants to say, or how he wants to say it, so— instead, he leans forward and pulls Ryland into another hug. His brother hugs him back tighter, doesn’t seem to want to let go this time. Colt gets it. He doesn’t want to let him go, either.

So, for a while, he doesn’t. Neither does Ryland. They both just linger, hanging onto each other, clinging in a way neither of them thought they’d ever be able to do again.

“Grace bed appear soft, comfortable!” Rocky calls from down the hall. “Grace suffocate in soft bed!”

“Better check on that,” Colt mumbles, and Ryland laughs.

“Guess so,” he agrees. He still doesn’t let go, though, not for another long moment before they both squash a little closer into each other, then release. “Hey, Colt?”

“Yeah?” Colt asks, leaning down to unlock the brakes on Ryland’s chair and take hold of either handle again.

“Thanks,” Ryland says. Simple, to the point.

“Hey, Ry?” Colt asks as he starts pushing him down the hall towards the bedroom they’ve put together for him and Rocky.

“Yeah?” Ryland echoes.

“Thanks.” He nudges the back of his brother’s head, flicks his party hat forward a little, enjoys the laugh that stumbles out of him, and brings him home.