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The one human sense that still baffles Rocky no matter how many times Grace explains it is the ability to tell the difference between being perceived and being watched. Without fail, the second Rocky stops working on his projects to hone in on Grace, he sits up straighter. He doesn't even always know he's doing it, but some part of him feels he's being stared at.
"Rocky, stop staring," he murmurs.
"Grace flattering self. I'm working."
"Prove it."
He loudly tinkers with his tools, but Grace knows darn well he's just snipping the little parts in the air. He's been observing him intensely since he got back inside from a disastrous EVA, in which a loose bit of metal broke off and struck him hard in the abdomen. The only reason Grace had gone out at all was because it was loose and constantly smacking against the hull, creating a constant noise that annoyed Rocky within an inch of his life. Ever since Adrian, the ship has been losing pieces. They usually ignore them, so long as they're not important, but this one was creating such a disturbance that Grace had kindly offered (caved after days of nonstop whining) to go out and fix it.
The blow had nearly knocked him off the ship, would have if he hadn't been tethered so tightly to it. It knocked the wind out of him so badly that it had taken him several seconds to get the air to answer Rocky's terrified status report updates, which means that he's worked up, which means he's watching.
"Stop worrying, Rock, I'm just bruised."
"You're quiet. And not moving."
"I told you, it hurts."
"I've seen Grace pain before. Very loud complaining. Lots of moving. This is different."
"Then you should be proud of me. I'm handling this well."
"Grace--"
"I know," he curtails. "I'm just tired. I think I'll feel better if I can get some sleep."
"No. Grace got hurt, now acting weird. No sleep until I know you're okay."
"You'll be watching."
"You can't tell me if something wrong if you sleep."
"But I'll feel so comfortable and safe." It almost works, but Rocky jumps slightly just before he gives in.
"Oh! Idea! Grace move soft bed items to lab. That way, Grace can be comfortable and awake."
"Is that the best I'm going to get?"
"Yes," Rocky says. "Take or leave."
He grumbles about it for a little while, but it's better than nothing, so he heads down the hall to get his soft bed items. His ribs are so painful that he has Armando carry most of it, opting to hold only a pillow. When he returns, he settles everything into a makeshift nest and snuggles down inside.
"Aw," Rocky says of his creation. "Reminds Rocky of being hatchling."
"You're being very mean to somebody who just risked his life to stop a sound that was irritating you."
"Hm. You're right. Apology. Rocky owe Grace thanks. Turn on computer, question? We can watch dumb movie Grace like. With all the noise."
"It's a musical. It's not noise. But sure. Fair trade." It might sound a little one-sided, but in his defense, Rocky really does hate musicals.
Annoyingly, Rocky is right. Grace does start to feel worse as time goes on, but that only means he wishes even more than he'd been allowed to go to sleep when he still felt okay. Now, he's lying barely awake on some pillows on the floor, watching a movie he can't keep up with despite having seen it dozens of times, trying desperately to ignore how badly his stomach hurts. He's so nauseous that he's sweating.
"Grace feel okay?" Rocky asks again for the fourth time since the movie started.
"Mhm."
"Certain, question? Heartbeat fast. Breathing very fast."
"Sick to my stomach," he mumbles.
"Is new symptom. Distressing."
"Pain can make you nauseous."
"Pain should be getting better. Is getting worse."
"How would you know?"
"I know." Grace just hums indifferently. "If feeling okay, then Grace sit up."
"No."
"Why, question?"
"M'comfortable."
"No, Grace is hurting. Not comfortable at all."
"You're freaking out about nothing."
"Not freaking out. If Grace not sit up, then I freak out."
He forces his eyes open. Rocky is angled toward him expectantly, waiting for him to do as he says. Unfortunately, he does believe that if he doesn't sit up, Rocky will show him what freaking out looks like. Though he thinks Rocky is overreacting, he realizes when he tries to comply that this is actually going to be more difficult than he thought. Relying mostly on arm strength, he pushes himself upright with a pained gasp that he tries to ignore. Rocky might hear it, might say something, but he can't tell, because his pulse is pounding in his ears too loudly.
Upright, he realizes that he only felt as good as he did because he hadn't moved in several hours. What he thought was fatigue and soreness is actually dizziness and deep, severe pain. He doubles forward, which hurts even more, and groans.
"Grace! What's wrong, question? Pain is bad?"
He nods, but can't reply beyond that. He knows that Rocky can hear the bead of sweat that drips from his temple to his chin and then to the floor, and the fact that he doesn't complain about the leaking shows how badly this is scaring him. Soothing him is out of the question. Grace is pretty sure he's just as scared. Everything is spinning.
"Rock," he mutters. "Think I need help."
"Yes! Yes, tell me how to help. Rocky fix, Rocky fix."
The problem is that Grace doesn't know what to do. Before he can even try to think through it, his stomach flips, giving him no time to react before he's throwing up black coffee grinds onto the floor. Maybe he's not that kind of doctor, but he knows enough to know that that's blood.
"Med bay," he manages.
"Good good good. Go to medical room. Lean on ball."
"Dunno if I can stand."
"Grace not have choice. Stand now. Rocky will support. Not very far."
Well, he's got to try.
-----
Grace doesn't remember the trek to the med bay, but apparently, he makes it, because that's where he wakes. He's lying on the bed, abdomen sore, but not agonizingly so like it had been before he blacked out. Rocky perks up.
"Grace is awake, question?"
"Yeah," he says. His throat is dry, and he clears it. "What happened?"
"Mary is broken."
Grace frowns. "What? How?"
"Don't know, but scans say Grace bleeding even though not leaking anywhere. Then, robot arm cut into Grace to fix. Stupid, wrong. Apology. Rocky try to stop it."
"I think she meant internally bleeding."
"Yes, Grace blood is internal. Usually preferred."
He chuckles. "I'm not, like, just a sack of blood. It's supposed to be in little tubes called vessels. If enough of those break, you can bleed into your body. It's bad."
Rocky makes a lot of noise, some combination of worry and frustration. "Grace body stupid."
"Humans, or mine specifically?"
"Did Mary fix problem, question? You're okay, now?" he asks, dodging the question.
"Considering I'm awake and not dead, I'm assuming so."
"Affirmative, Doctor Grace," she chimes in. "Surgical procedure was successful. Would you like to know more details?"
"Nope," he says firmly, "no, thanks. I'm good."
"I should make ball for Grace. Keep delicate leaky body from getting hurt," Rocky says.
"But then who would go on EVAs when things bother you?"
Rocky startles a little. "Apology. That was too dangerous. I shouldn't have let you."
"Rock, no. Come on, I was kidding. It's not your fault."
"Rocky not ready to joke about it."
"Noted. I'm okay now, though. Really."
"Grace always say fine. I only believe Mary, now."
"You two made up quick."
"I was wrong. Mary not broken." Grace smiles. "Grace rest, now."
"What are you gonna do?"
"Work on protective ball."
He sighs. "I'm going to sleep, but you better not be serious. I'm not going to trip over a giant xenonite ball every day just so you can commit to a bit."
"Won't have to worry about trip! That's what ball is for."
"Goodnight, Rocky."
"Goodnight, Grace."