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“I'm glad we went to Erid and not to Earth,” Grace says, as they sit at the foggy beach. Artificial waves lick sheepishly at his bare feet, play with scattering pebbles. (The water is nicely warm. Through trial and error Adrian eventually managed to achieve the temperature Grace wanted.) Rocky whistles curiously, stomping his foot.
“Why? Grace not miss home? Grace likes Erid more?”
“No, it's not– I mean, I like Erid, I really do!” Grace looks at his hands. The scar Rocky left while saving him is still there on his forearm, pink and soft. A reminder of what they've gone through. “It's nice here, Rock. It's just–”
Rocky turns his whole body to Grace. He does that a lot, especially when he's waiting for an answer. As if his entire life depends on it. As if whatever Grace has to say is the most important thing in the world, and Rocky has no intention of missing it. (And not because it could be useful or smart or relevant to the research, but because it's Grace. Just as simple as that.
Grace is still getting used to that.)
“Just what?” Rocky asks softly, his chirping voice intermingling with the waves whispering and the pebbles chattering.
And Grace thinks.
He thinks about Erid. About this breath-taking blue planet with a magnificent ice-and-dust ring around it. Thinks about seeing it for the first time through the viewport, exhausted and sick and weak from starvation, and Rocky beside him singing, home home home, and Grace, with his mind half-delirious, considering that it could once become his home, too.
Grace thinks about the Eridians. Thinks about the house they built for him, all according to his requests, no matter how small or insignificant, thinks about the beach and the sand and the waves and the fog. He thinks about little Pebbles waiting eagerly for the next class, about Adrian promising to visit him in a few days, about Rocky resting by his side, firm and close.
Grace thinks about Earth. This pale blue dot he once considered to be the centre of the universe, before a red line of fate led him further than any other human had ever been. Grace thinks about the evening sun coming through the green of the trees, thinks about the murmur of the ocean and the rustle of the grass when the warm wind passes through it. Thinks about the twitter of the birds, the buzzing of the bees and the chirping of the crickets.
Grace thinks about humanity, too. Thinks about his students, young and bright, their eyes glowing with excitement and curiosity for knowledge. (They must all be grown-ups now, his kids. He never even got to say goodbye to them.) He thinks about Carl, about skittles and laughter and mutual understanding. He thinks about love and friendship. He thinks about belonging somewhere, about being a part of something bigger than you or any other human being have ever been.
He also thinks about Stratt, about long sleepless nights at the lab, his eyes itching and his head aching. Thinks about responsibility, about fire and death, about running fast, his lungs burning and his heart nearly stopping in his chest. He thinks about lying face down on the cold ground, arms behind his back, tears prickling his eyes, words please and don't scorching his tongue. Thinks about foxes and hounds. Thinks about betrayal and faith, and how similar these two notions are.
Grace thinks: if Rocky went to Earth, people would have never built a whole place just for him. They would have put him in a cage and studied him and experimented on him until there was nothing left of Rocky but an empty husk.
Maybe it is for the best that Rocky has only met one human, Grace thinks. He would soon find himself disappointed, should he meet more.
Rocky carefully puts a hand on Grace's knee. He's always careful with him, too careful even, as if Grace is fragile, as if Grace could easily break if Rocky pushed him a little too hard. Grace doesn't find it in himself to be mad at this. They both know it's not true. Ryland Grace is anything but fragile.
(Besides, no one has ever been this careful with Grace before. No one's ever accepted him entire, whole, just for who he was. He had always been too much or not enough, loneliness was something too familiar, and bravery was something too intangible. And then the Sun was dying, and the red string of the Petrova line was pulling him further and further, and then there were an unknown spaceship, an unexpected message, a dark tunnel, and then there was Rocky, and suddenly it wasn't that hard to be brave anymore. Suddenly he was known. Suddenly he was loved.
Grace never thought he'd have to cross time and space to finally matter to someone.)
“Grace?” Rocky calls again softly, his hand warm against Grace's knee. “Just what?”
Grace exhales, squeezing Rocky's fingers through the xenonite suit. The distance between them is poignant.
“I don't know, buddy. It’s difficult to explain.”
And it's almost infuriating, the inability to find the proper words to describe what he's feeling. He's a teacher, for god's sake, he should know how to explain difficult things with simple terms. Turns out it's easier to explain the theory of relativity to an alien toddler rather than talk about his feelings out loud.
“Try,” Rocky insists, squeezing Grace's hand back. God, he's so warm. “Rocky will understand. Rocky smart.”
Grace laughs quietly, shaking his head. Of course you are. At the motion, a few loose strands of hair fall on his forehead, and he tucks it behind his ear absent-mindedly. Perhaps he should cut it. He's not sure if he wants to, though.
“Well, it's–”
He thinks for a few seconds, playing with a loose thread of his old cardigan. Rocky waits patiently. Grace sighs.
“I miss Earth, but I don't– miss it. If that makes sense.”
Rocky remains quiet. Grace looks at the waves. The beach is always changing. You could go to the same spot every day and always look at a different beach. Now the beach is the same every day, but Grace has changed.
“I mean, it is my home. I was born there, I grew up there. ‘You can take a human from Earth but you can't take Earth out of a human’ sort of thing,” he huffs out a hushed laugh, but his hands are trembling. “You can't just leave thirty years of your life behind and never look back. But– When I think about never seeing Earth again, I– I don't know, Rock, I thought I'd be way more desperate about it, and I'm not, and it feels weird.”
Rocky shifts slightly, just enough to press into Grace's side.
“Grace feels guilty for not wanting to go back home?”
Grace exhales, loudly, shakily. Rocky is too good at seeing right through him.
“Yeah. Yeah, I do. And I don't know if I should. Because I saved them, right? I saved Earth. I saved humanity.”
Though they wouldn't save me. They left me to die.
“I mean, I don't owe them anything anymore, do I? I can do whatever I want and stay wherever I want. I did what they wanted me to.”
Grace shuts his eyes, feeling tears stinging them, hot and shameful. Is he being a coward again? Did he deserve what happened to him? Did he deserve to be sent somewhere he didn't want to go to never come back?
Has he ever belonged to Earth in the first place?
“Does that make me wrong?” he whispers, his voice small and trembling. “Feeling like my home was never really a home?”
Grace survived leaving Earth, leaving everything he’d ever known behind. He thinks about leaving Erid, leaving Adrian, leaving Rocky, and his stomach twists. He wouldn't survive a second knowing he'd never see his best friend again, knowing he'd never hear his gentle whistling and rumbling, never feel his warmth, never talk to him again. Oh, Grace would rather willingly kill himself rather than feel this.
He sighs shakily and wipes his eyes with the cardigan's sleeve. Leaky space blob. Grace has never been ashamed of crying, but tears come easier these days. Perhaps it's the age getting to him. Rocky stays quiet for a few more moments. Then he gets up from where he was pressed against Grace's side. Without his weight, warm and anchoring, Grace immediately feels cold. His insides seem to be suddenly falling into a bottomless pit. Was he too much? Does Rocky think he's a coward, too? He missed Erid, he couldn't wait to go back home. Of course, Rocky thinks him weird. Stupid, Grace thinks. Stupid, stupid.
“Hey, hey, Rocky, Rock, I'm sorry, I’m–” he stutters, panicking, hands hovering over Rocky's carapace, not sure what to do, how to stop his friend from leaving.
Rocky isn't.
Rocky stands in front of Grace, so that now they're not pressed against, but are facing each other. Though Rocky has no eyes, Grace can still feel his gaze, intense and yet… soft?
“Grace listen to Rocky, and listen carefully,” he says firmly. Grace wipes his wet eyes again, sniffling, and nods. Rocky continues, his voice a low growl. “Earth sent Grace to space to die. Earth not come back for Grace. Earth leaves him. Earth bad bad bad, Rocky hates Earth.”
Grace wants to say something, to say that they had their reason, that one life was nothing in comparison to billions, but Rocky doesn't let him. His tone softens.
“Grace saves Earth anyway. Grace does everything he can. Grace saves Rocky and Erid, too.”
Rocky lowers his carapace to Grace's knees, just a bit, so that Grace could feel his warmth, grounding and familiar. Grace nearly sobs. Rocky makes a soft sound, low and rumbling.
“Grace is the bravest human I have ever met.”
“Rocky–” Grace whispers, simple and short and small, but what he wants to say is my best friend, my other half, bound to me with a red string, my life, my heart, my air, my sun and my moon.
Rocky lifts his arm and puts his hand on Grace's wet cheek. Warm. Gentle. Close.
“But Grace should not feel guilty for not wanting to go back home,” he says. “Home is where someone misses you. Where someone feels the absence of the other. Rocky knows. Rocky felt that when spent years away from Erid, from Adrian. Rocky felt that when left Grace.”
Grace puts his hand over Rocky's and turns his face into it. Something is shattering inside him, breaking into pieces, and Rocky's presence is the only constant to help him stay here.
“Earth not miss Grace,” Rocky murmurs, quiet and sad.
And then, voice even more quiet,
“Rocky would miss Grace. A lot.”
You are my home, is what Grace hears. I am your home. Nothing has ever felt more real than this.
And Grace is crying again, tears streaming down his cheeks. And Rocky is whistling soothingly, pressing into his chest in an embrace, and Grace wraps his trembling arms around his carapace, everything in him begging, closer closer closer, and Rocky does the same, all five of his limbs on Grace's back and in Grace's hair, and there is nothing in the world that could ever tear them apart.
“Rocky love love love Grace,” Rocky chirps, and the tender vibrations of his body go through Grace like electric currents. “And Rocky not want Grace to feel guilty for wanting something for himself. Is no bad. Is good. Grace deserves.”
Grace chuckles weakly.
“Do I?”
“Yes,” Rocky states bluntly. “And if Grace forgets, Rocky here to remind for as long as needed.”
Grace hides his face in the curve of Rocky's body.
“It might take a long time, pal.”
“Grace take all time he needs.”
And Grace sniffs again, whispering a ragged thank you, and tears are burning his eyes, and Rocky murmurs, leaky human, nothing but pure affection in his voice, and nuzzles further into Grace, warm, so impossibly, unbelievably warm.
Grace thinks: You're here, you're really here.
Grace thinks: Everything has been leading me to you. I was watching you sleep each time I stared at the stars and longed to know more.
Grace thinks: It doesn't matter where I am as long as you're with me.
Grace thinks: You're with me.
Grace thinks: I’m home.
And as he smiles, tugging Rocky to the ground with him, earning chirping giggles from the latter, something in his chest finally loosens. Lying on his back on a beach of a distant planet, with his alien best friend sprawled comfortably on his chest, Ryland Grace, the Saviour of the Universe, looks up.
Somewhere far in the sky, thousands of miles and light years away, a familiar pale blue dot winks at him.
Grace winks back and closes his eyes.