Chapter Text
It's a strange party. Rocky has always assumed that all parties that Grace has held on Erid are odd by Earth standards, but this one feels strange even to itself. Many of the friends that Grace has managed to accumulate over the years are present, people are talking and laughing together, and Earth music is playing over a set of modified speakers. There isn't any food, something that Grace had explained would usually be found at Earth celebrations, but this is normal. Everything is, theoretically, as it should be. There isn't any reason for Rocky to be acting as it is, not by the standards that it knows Grace would judge it by if Grace had already seen Rocky lurking at the outskirts of the gathering, making no move to actually join in.
As it is, Grace hasn't spotted it yet, so Rocky is left with more time to brood.
It's the reason for celebrating that just feels wrong, in Rocky's opinion. It taps the ground to get a clearer picture of the party from where it sits at the bottom of the cliff, then tucks its arms even tighter around itself.
The reason for celebration this time is the removal of Grace's arm cast. Apparently this is a 'colourful' thing, something that they had all assisted Grace in decorating, adding different patterns and eridian messages to it in accordance with important Earth traditions. Grace had said that it would be sad to see it go, but Rocky couldn't be more glad to put the whole thing behind them.
Rocky had said it would be a worse reason to host a party than the others they had shared, but Grace had said it didn't care. He'd rather celebrate something simple, rather than the avoidance of something as dire as death by astrophage crisis, like their first celebration had involved.
Rocky would argue otherwise. Any situation involving its friend being in pain was dire enough for it.
When the accident had first occurred, a fall that had led to a broken bone, Grace had been in agony. Rocky couldn't forget the sounds it had made, the vocalisations of pain that Rocky hadn't heard it make for many years now. Worse, almost, was how Grace had attempted to calm Rocky in the aftermath. As if Rocky were the one that had been howling in pain just a few hours beforehand.
It was "just something that happened", Grace had told Rocky. "Just an accident, nothing more."
It was something that Grace could have avoided, Rocky had argued, and Grace had shrugged. It'd told Rocky that it needed to learn its new limits. It was getting older, and having brittle bones was just one of the consequences of that process that it should have been expecting.
Grace had gone on to remind Rocky of the other signs of aging that it was anticipating, after that. It had explained things to Rocky that Rocky had already heard it bring up a dozen times before.
That was another human thing of its that Grace hasn't managed to shake – reminding Rocky of things that it had no physical way of forgetting. Grace blamed its own imperfect memory for forgetting that fact, but Rocky knew the truth behind its reminders. Its friend had been circling back to the same morbid topics surrounding its own mortality at an increasing frequency, as of late.
It keeps going back to the same topics, and saying the most unthinkable things, and now it wants to do something as ordinary as hosting a party? Rocky doesn't know how it can follow suit, not after what Grace had said to it.
As if intercepting the light-thoughts from Rocky's crystalline pathways, Grace finally notices Rocky's chosen lurking-spot and ambles its way over to it.
"Rocky!" it exclaims, showing its teeth. "I didn't see you over here, sorry. How's it going?"
It's aiming for casual, Rocky knows, just as it knows that Grace is hiding its discomfort. After all of these years, it's almost figured out how to mask its emotions from it – but just as Grace has adapted, so has Rocky. Silly Grace, thinking that Rocky wouldn't be able to notice a lie.
"I'm tired," Rocky replies, choosing not to address the 'elephant in the room'. "It's nearly my sleep cycle."
Despite the lack of enthusiasm, Grace latches onto its words. "I didn't realise," it exclaimed. "I could tell people to start leaving, if you wanted. You could sleep. I would watch."
Rocky hums, a noncommittal noise that it had definitely picked up from the human, and one that has the human drooping slightly where it now sits. Rocky didn't care – it was fitting to use its own quirks against it. Nothing less than it deserved, after what it had said.
"Some day, Rocky, you're going to have to let me go. I just want you to be ready for that."
Grace had been mistaken at the time when it'd thought that Rocky had been upset over the idea of it dying. Not that Rocky isn't – but it was the fact that Grace had assumed that Rocky wasn't able to do something about it that had really gotten to it.
Despite Grace's squishiness, there are many human traits that Rocky is grateful that it possessed. Its humour, its closeness, its melodic laughter… and, right now, the fact that it would be impossible for Grace to be able to interface with any eridian thrum.
Rocky isn't sure why it is hesitant about Grace knowing of the thrums Rocky has encouraged, thrums with the goal of extending its short lifespan, but Rocky is. Grace has been amenable to things in the past that had shared the goal of improving its life, such as the various walking aids and supports that helped it move under greater gravity than it was designed to handle. Grace had been grateful for such interventions, even, but this…?
Rocky isn't sure.
Not that Grace's opinion mattered in this case. There is only one option, really. There is a problem, and Rocky is going to fix it. Even if it can't stop its friend from falling and injuring itself, it can do that.
By its side, the human shifts. Even lost in thought as Rocky is– another human trait that Rocky had picked up over the years from Grace, or at least was willing to blame on it– Rocky picks up on the motion, and refocuses.
"Later," Rocky says, addressing the human's concerns over its sleep. Grace shrinks in on itself some more, so Rocky shifts a little closer, extending a claw to lay on its knee. Grace takes comfort in contact, Rocky knows, and uses now to distract from its mood – and to check up on the human, emitting a click to get a better picture of its friend.
Rocky hasn't been squeamish about observing Grace for a long time now, and had been there when the fracture had occurred, so finding it along Grace's arm-bone is a simple matter.
Less simple is dispelling the sound-memory of the incident that had led to it; it had been a terrible thing, a sound that no human should make. Eridians would emit cracks when fighting, or when colliding with their craggy environment, but that was just the sound of their carapace doing its job and keeping them safe. With Grace, the sound had meant something very different, transforming from something ordinary into something terrible.
Rocky wouldn't ever be able to forget it, just as he wouldn't be able to forget any of the reminders of Grace's shorter lifespan. As it huddles against the human, clicking again more audibly to reassure it that Rocky is watching over it, Rocky can't shift its thoughts away.
Neither, it suspects, can Grace, not if the grip against Rocky's arm and the closeness of it is anything to go by. Grace still needed Rocky, in more ways that it might realise.
And here Grace was, telling Rocky that it needed to let it go without a fight.
Never.