Archive of Our Own

The Wallpaper in my Heart (slowly, slowly peeling off) 

The banging on my door is relentless. 

At the first blow my whole body jerks as if electrified. A noise builds in my throat but I swallow it back down before even the slightest whisper can escape. I suspect that it would have sounded very similar to a whimper which would have just been embarrassing considering that I had ample time to steel and prepare myself for this moment. None of the events unraveling before me are a surprise. I'd known this was coming ever since I opened my eyes this morning. The only surprise is that it took as long as it did. Maybe the waiting and anticipation just made it worse.

A high-pitched voice joins the banging, calling my name. 

I cringe back from the noise and bury myself even further under my quilt. I’d snatched it up from the beach yesterday and didn't bother with shaking it out before throwing myself into bed and pulling it over my head to block everything out. Unfortunately that means my mattress is covered with a thousand tiny grains of sand. With every small movement, every shift of a limb or a deep breath, they scrape all over my bare arms and legs, leaving behind small patches of itchy and irritated skin. It's uncomfortable to say the least. 

I should get up and do something about that. 

I don't move. 

My breath warms the cocoon I have formed around myself and it is loud in my ears. It doesn’t drown out the banging or the shouting but it muffles everything enough that I can ignore it. Ignore them. 

It won’t last. They don’t let themselves get ignored. Not for long.

Especially not Rocky.

I can hear him escalate from shouting my name to demanding I let him in with very colorful language. He’s trying the door which I can’t hear but I know him better than I know myself. He’ll be rattling the knob and push and pull, straining to reach it. I don’t have a lock on my door, never even entertained the thought of asking for one, but I put one of the chairs beneath the knob to keep it from turning. I didn’t even remember doing that until just now. The memory is an unwelcome surprise. I squeeze my eyes shut and in my mind’s eye I watch my past self stumble into the house, clutching the sandy quilt to my chest and then turning and jamming the chair under the door without even looking at it, without once stopping to wonder about my actions.

I wonder now. 

Why did I do that?

You know why you did that. 

I shudder and press my face against the mattress. My eyes burn. It’s the sand, of course. Just the sand. I want to cover my ears but my hands are bunched into the quilt and they are stiff with the force of my grip. Maybe I’ve lost circulation. It feels like I’ve been doing this for hours. Probably have.

Everything feels fuzzy, just like when I first woke up on the Mary. Coupled with the lapses in my memory it does not help alleviate the anxiety thrumming through my body. 

I hear another voice, calm and soothing, and Rocky finally stops banging against my door. The following silence is heavy and foreboding. I know better than to think he gave up and left. Rocky doesn’t know the meaning of giving up. 

Especially when I’m being an idiot and scaring him half to death. 

I was supposed to meet him and Adrian on the beach for a rare day of leisure. No classes (even Erid has public holidays, who knew?) and no meetings of any kind. Just the three of us lounging on my quilt for a little picnic. I’d even planned to take a swim at one point. There haven’t been many opportunities yet, with the issue of the water temperature being a constant concern and two very overprotective and very sinkable Eridians constantly hovering around me. Doesn’t matter how often I tell them that humans can float, they always find ways to persuade me not to take a dip in the ocean just that day and I always cave in the end. 

Not this time though. This time I would do some laps and just float and enjoy the feeling of weightlessness without the added fear of infinite space. 

I’d been really excited about that and determined to enjoy myself despite the horrible day I’d been having yesterday. Getting into bed last night, feeling dead tired and drained and bad bad bad I told myself that a good night's rest would do the trick. I’d sleep like the dead in my sand infested bed and when I woke up I’d be good as new and ready to face the day and put everything that happened behind me and have a fun-filled outing with my friends.

None of that happened.

My alarm went off and I reached over to turn it off and turned around, determined to get an early start and get up and then I just… 

Didn't.

I lay there for minutes which turned into an hour and I kept thinking ‘You have to get up or you’re gonna be late’. I stared at the ceiling and when I couldn’t stomach that anymore I pulled the quilt over my head and stared at the darkness around me. I passed the time by imagining what I would have to do first. I’d get out of bed and take a shower. Then I would brush my teeth and put on some clothes. The pair of boxers I use as swim trunks and something comfy to cover them. Maybe Ilyukhina’s skirt and one of my shirts that is so threadbare it almost falls apart. Maybe I’d grab a snack before leaving too, something light. You don’t get into water on a full stomach. In my mind's eye I saw myself hurrying through the house, getting this and getting that and waving goodbye to Armando and then leaving with a small skip in my step.

‘Just like any other morning,’ I told myself and tensed my muscles in preparation to move. ‘Just get up and get to it, Grace.’

And then I stayed exactly where I was.

I want to leave the bed but I can't. It’s like my mind and my body are completely disconnected from one another. One screams at me to get up, to do something, anything, while the other keeps me frozen in place. 

And I know that's bad. I know the signs. I know what this is and it terrifies me and I don’t want to succumb to it, I want to be stronger than that, I want to shake this off and be okay. 

I want and want and want. 

And still I'm lying here. Not doing anything. 

The silence is suffocating. The only thing I’m hearing now is my own breathing and the blood rushing through my ears. 

An irrational fear grips me: What if Rocky did leave? What if he has decided that the leaky, gross space blob is too much work, too needy, too breakable? What if he has grown sick of me and my weakness? I always need him to reassure me, to keep me sane, to hold my broken pieces together. That’s not fair to him, that’s not right. I’m too much trouble, aren’t I? And Adrian is probably sick of me too. Who am I, to invade their relationship like this with my constant tears and clinginess? That’s not what they signed up for. That’s not what they have waited for for decades. Now I’ve stood them both up, made them wait for me, worry for me, and for what? For nothing, for them to stand in front of my house and listen to me hyperventilate under my quilt. They can hear me through the walls. They can ‘see’ the human they have to coddle and keep alive hiding away in his bedroom, ignoring them. How ungrateful I am. How pathetic! What a coward! Just like Stratt said, just like everyone must have known just by taking one look at me. No wonder Rocky and Adrian left, no wonder they washed their claws off me. No wonder I will be hiding here forever under my quilt, alone, always alone-and-gasping-for-breath-and-

Something tugs on my quilt and pulls it out of my unresisting hands. I haven’t even noticed how fast my breathing has become or the black spots in my vision, the way my whole body is shaking. I gasp for air as my head breaks through the surface and blindly reach out for something, anything. The light is too bright but before I can cringe away something covers my eyes and forces them shut again. Blessed darkness returns. I can feel the mattress dip next to me and hear a sound that I would recognize anywhere and anytime even in the deepest depths of a panic attack.

Rocky presses against my side, his claw over my eyes, his other carding through my hair. He’s humming. It’s nonsense sounds, no words, just something meant to calm you down. A steady tone, varying slightly in pitch and tempo. I unconsciously match my breathing to it, inhale and exhale as Rocky's voice rises and falls. 

Other claws, much bigger than Rocky’s, take my hands and squeeze them just shy of painful. Just enough to break through the panic. 

After what feels like an eternity my breathing slowly evens out and my hands stop shaking. I squeeze back and Adrian lets up a little and shifts closer. 

My body feels like I’ve been run over by a truck and of course I’ve been crying. The xenonite suit over Rocky’s claw is soaked wet but my friend is very nice about it and doesn’t voice his usual disgust. He merely retreats the limb and inconspicuously wipes it on the mattress. 

That makes me laugh harder than it should. Post panic hysteria, I assume. But the sound does make me feel better. More human. With the help of my two friends I slowly sit up. My head is pounding but there is already a glass of water being shoved in my face. 

“Thank you.” Crispy Creme, my voice sounds rough. I take a sip and sigh as the cool liquid runs down my throat. “Sorry.”

“Grace should not apologize,” Rocky says and he sounds subdued. Sad. I hate that I’ve done this to him. It was supposed to be a good day and I’ve already ruined it. Before my thoughts can spiral and paralyze me again I swing my legs out of the bed.

It’s so much harder than it should be. 

My eyes fall on the patio doors that stand wide open. Didn't think to barricade those (did I even think at all last night?). From my sitting position I can also see the front door and the chair I jammed under the knob. It looks ridiculous. What did I even think this would accomplish against aliens that weigh a few hundred pounds and could punch through my walls if they wanted to? How must this look like to Rocky and Adrian? Probably like a pebble throwing a tantrum. I feel heat crawl up my neck and cheeks. 

At least they didn’t break my door down trying to get to me. Small mercies.

“Sorry.” I get to my feet and only stumble a little as I make my way to the front door to put the chair back where it belongs. I can feel them watching me and my hands start to sweat when I’m unable to get the chair unstuck. Rocky’s rattling must have really jammed it in there. A turquoise arm reaches past be and effortlessly unplucks the stupid thing. I don’t turn around, just keep staring at the doorknob. My distorted reflection stares back at me accusingly. Feeling numb, I listen as Adrian carefully puts the chair back down near the table.

“I had it,” I mutter without any heat.

Dear lord this is awkward. I don’t even know why. This is not the first time the two of them have witnessed one of my panic attacks. 

Wasn’t even the worst one I ever had. 

It took me a whole day to recover from the last one. Admittedly, that was also a pretty bad one. 

I’d been talking to my personal doctor, McCoy (and yes I have long since accepted that I’m not very creative when it comes to naming Eridians but no one needs to know), about the characteristics of a human spine. They'd been fascinated by all these small bones and protrusions and I'd been more than happy to roll on my stomach and let them poke at me a little. They brought me back from the brink of death, the least I can do is offer myself up as a guinea pig every once in a while. 

I'd been concentrating on our conversation, resting my cheek on my folded arms and describing the most common causes for a slipped disk. There was no reason to wonder what was going on in my blind spot. I like McCoy and I felt safe and comfortable. That's why it didn't even occur to me to question where their young assistant had gone until I suddenly felt a prick in my upper arm. 

Things might have still turned out okay. The entry point of the needle was nowhere near my neck after all. Unfortunately the sting collided with McCoy leaning over me and pressing a claw against my lower back to get a better look. 

The syringe had contained nothing but vitamins and I'd known about the shot days in advance. But it was supposed to happen at the end of the appointment, giving me lots of time to prepare myself (for obvious reasons). The assistant thought they could get ahead of the schedule and take a bit of the workload off of McCoy but they’d failed to warn me about this change in plans and…

Well. Let's just say some of the medical personnel are still wary of me after that. Apparently I was able to throw the young Eridian a few feet away from me while screaming my head off. An impressive feat of strength considering their weight. I cringe just thinking about the spectacle I must have caused. Maybe it’s a good thing I don't remember any of it. My mind had been trapped somewhere else entirely. 

Rocky hasn’t let me attend a single exam without him after that.

I’m not mad about it. 

But the point is, I don’t understand why I feel so vulnerable right now. Usually I feel better after coming down from an attack with Rocky and Adrian by my side. Exhausted and vaguely embarrassed, but better. 

This time I just feel empty. 

“Sorry,” I say a third time and ignore Rocky’s angry clicking. “Just let me get ready and we can go.”

Adrian folds their legs and settles down in a way I know means that they don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon and I groan under my breath. It would have been too easy. I try to keep the ruse up a little longer by quickly slipping into some pants I have lying around. Only when I’m already fastening the button do I remember that I wanted to put on my swim boxers. The idea of taking the pants off again and changing suddenly feels like a monumental effort. 

No swimming today then. Whatever. My limbs feel like overcooked noodles anyway. I’d probably drown and Rocky would never let me live it down. 

My hands shake. 

Stop it!

There is still sand clinging to my skin. I should have taken a shower first but I really don’t feel like it. And anyway, the friction of the grains trapped under my pants and rubbing against my skin might just be the kind of distraction I will need today. Maybe the discomfort will be enough to keep me from drifting off into my own thoughts again.

While Adrian just watches, Rocky follows me closely around the house. He bumps into my legs and tries to herd me to his mate. I know the minute I get too close, Adrian will pull me into their, for lack of a better word, lap and keep me there until I’m ready to talk. So I sidestep Rocky and do my best to ignore him.

It would be easier to ignore the Petrova Line. 

“What happened, question? Why did you have a panic attack? Did someone hurt you? Tell me now!”

I sigh. It’s still jarring to get called out like that so openly. Back on earth I had a small panic attack in the lab after a three day sleepless work bender and the on board doctors repeatedly called it a ‘stress induced incident’. I now realize that they were probably instructed to keep diagnoses as vague as possible for the sake of the project. No one could afford to have scientists with actual issues requiring an extensive treatment plan. 

We were saving the world! No time for pesky mental health problems. 

They gave me some pills to help me sleep and called it a day.

I never took them. No one ever asked.

But the Eridians are much more open about this kind of thing. The regular thrums mean that there is very little they can keep from each other and mental health is actually taken very seriously around here. Hence the reason why I was assigned a therapist before I could even walk again.

I’m getting used to this special flavor of Eridian bluntness but it still catches me off guard sometimes. 

“It wasn’t a pan-” Okay no, I’m not doing that. Rocky already thinks I’m stupid when it comes to my own well being, no reason to give him more reason to doubt my intelligence. “I’m okay. Nobody hurt me.”

“Then why?” he keeps prodding. He tilts his carapace and lowers his voice. “Is it because of the accident yesterday?”

My eye twitches. I just hope the movement is small enough that they miss it. I want this conversation over with already. “No.”

But not even I believe myself. Adrian has kept suspiciously quiet. They let Rocky take the lead most of the time when it comes to my fragile little mind but I can see them shift in place and slowly and rhythmically tap the floor. Despite the lack of eyes it feels like they are staring right into my soul, searching for something, and I turn my back on them because some animal part of my brain insists that if I can’t see them, they can’t see me.

Rocky scuttles back into my line of sight and grabs the bottom of my shirt. “I told you, nothing bad happened! Happens all the time with pebbles. You are too sensitive!”

I bristle at the sensitive comment. “That's rich coming from you, Mr. ‘Tell me I'm your favorite or I'm gonna throw myself off a cliff’.”

My best friend widens his stance, like a spider ready to attack, and stomps one of his feet. “Stupid insult! I am your favorite! That's why you need to tell me what's wrong!”

I roll my eyes. “Leave it be, Rock!”

“No,” he tugs some more on my shirt. He wants me to follow him over to Adrian but I keep my ground. If he wanted to he could tow me easily but he’s my friend and while he enjoys manhandling me from time to time to assert his superiority and because he’s a little menace, he never does it when I’m genuinely not in the mood. “Grace worries over nothing. It is not a big deal, statement.”

He got that from me. Not a big deal. A human idiom I have been using often around him. Maybe too often.

Turns out this is a suicide mission? Don’t worry buddy, it’s not a big deal.

I’m never getting home again? Hey pal, it’s alright, not a big deal.

Slowly starving to death on our way to Erid? Not a big deal, promise.

If you say something is not a big deal often enough then maybe it stops feeling like the end of the world and maybe you can start breathing again.

The thing is, it really wasn’t a big deal. The accident. It felt like a big deal when it happened but I have since been repeatedly reassured that it is, in fact, not a big deal. 

At all.

Everything is fine.

Completely fine.

***************************************

One of my colleagues once had to deal with a student breaking his arm in her class. No one’s fault, really. Just the typical boyish roughhousing that went too far. She was shaking afterwards, gripping her cup of coffee and staring at the tabletop. Everyone had gone home for the day but the principal asked her to stay until they heard back from the parents so they could discuss how to proceed from here. The principal was worried about lawsuits, about repercussions. I was more worried about the young woman who had only just started teaching two years ago. A baby in classroom years. So I stayed and sat with her in the teacher’s lounge, just listening and being there.

“It happened so fast,” she said, her voice hoarse and trembling. “I couldn’t do anything.”

I keep thinking about that in the aftermath. 

Because it doesn’t happen fast for me.

It feels like it takes forever. Like an eternity. Like I should have all the time in the world to react.

It doesn’t happen fast and I still can't do anything. 

We are on a short break before the next lesson starts and I am bending over my worktable, trying to tweak the set up for the experiment I have planned for later. I’m still not a hundred percent happy with it but it will have to do. The biggest challenges so far have been adapting my old practical experiments for Eridians and their unique senses. 

My pebbles are messing around behind the barrier. They have become a bit more lively during lessons after the parent-teacher nights but it’s still the break times where they really let loose.

I listen with one ear to their excited chatter. Out of the corner of my eye I see movement, some kind of commotion. Their voices sound cheerful and I am able to make out encouraging chirping, a chant almost. After a moment of intense listening I figure out that they are chanting Tori’s name. Beneath it all I can hear the little one laughing. I smile to myself as I adjust one of the test tubes, happy that they have integrated into the class so well after their initial reservations. 

But then their laughter cuts off and a shrill sound pierces my ears. It’s unlike anything I've ever heard and I drop the test tube and snap my head around so fast my neck makes an ugly sound. 

None of that matters.

I turn just in time to see Tori stumble on top of a stack of other pebbles. There is enough time for me to think ‘It’s that stupid boulder thing again, I told them all to be careful a million times’ before Tori loses their fight with gravity. I’ve seen the other pebbles lose their footing on top of the stack a few times already. It’s apparently part of the fun to see how far they can go before the tower gets unsteady and the moment it passes a certain tipping point they disperse before the pebble on top can actually fall. The five limbs make it pretty easy to hold on until you are safely back on the ground. 

But Tori only has four. 

It doesn’t happen fast. Tori stumbles backwards and forwards. One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. By the third heartbeat they slip and by the fourth they start to tumble down, summersaulting past their peers. Between heartbeat number five and six they hit the ground with a screech. 

It takes me another two heartbeats to start breathing again and run towards the barrier. 

In that time the other pebbles have started clicking and stomping their feet, wailing into the air. Tori is stunned, just laying there, unmoving. Before I can completely lose my mind they jump up as if someone pinched them and screech and warble. 

They are crying. 

There are no tears of course but the sound is unmistakable. 

“Tori,” I try to shout but the moment my voice leaves my mouth I realize I’d been whispering instead. My throat feels tight, constricted. Why is the barrier so far away? Why does it feel like I’m running through quicksand?

But thanks to their incredible hearing a whisper is all they need. Without hesitation Tori runs past their panicking schoolmates and lean against the barrier, still wailing. Finally finally finally my feet carry me where I need to go and I collide with the xenonite. The force knocks the wind out of me and rattles my teeth and I realize I must have been so much faster than I thought I was. I slide down to my knees and reach out my hands and-

Nothing. 

All I feel against my palms is the xenonite. 

I press against it like an idiot, as if I can push through it if I just use enough pressure. Tori is still crying, huddling themselves against the wall where my hands are, keening low in their carapace. Through my blurry eyes I can see a small crack along one of their limbs. It is very thin and obviously not very deep but it’s definitely new. They must have gotten it in the fall. A lump forms in my throat. 

Their classmates are calming down, hovering behind them and watching. I can feel them staring. Some of them are making noises that make me think they are crying too. From the shock. From fright. I want to hug them and comfort them. All of them. I want to gather Tori in my arms and say stupid stuff like “there, there” and maybe even blow on the small crack like I've done with my kids’ ouchies a million times. Here you go, let’s make the pain fly away.

I can’t do any of that. I’m here behind the barrier and all I can do is press my hands against the xenonite and watch and wait and what if-

No!

I’m the teacher! I can’t lose my head, I need to take control of the situation. Panic has no place here, these pebbles trust me to take care of them. I take a deep breath through my nose and blow it out through my mouth and square my shoulders. 

“It’s alright,” I say and keep my voice low and soothing. “You are alright. That was scary, I know, but I need you to-” I was about to say ‘take a deep breath’ but that is not really applicable here. “I need you to do as I do, alright?”

I start humming deep in my chest. A noise rising and falling with the rhythm of my breathing. After a short time Tori starts to mimic me, their vocalizations a bit wobbly at first but then getting stronger and more steady the longer we go. When I feel like I have all of their attention, I start tapping my fingers in short sequences on the xenonite. They copy me with that as well, clicking their claws against the wall. I take my time, going for more and more complex melodies, little jingles I vaguely remember from old tv spots or gameshow intros. 

The moment Tori starts giggling at a particularly silly sequence and my bad rendition of the accompanying lyrics it feels like a heavy weight has lifted off of me. The rest of the class has calmed down considerably as well, also trying to copy me and crowding Tori who doesn’t seem to mind the attention.

“Better?” I ask and the little pebble chirps an affirmative. I look at the crack again and now that my panic has abated, it looks even less serious than I at first thought. I know from Rocky that the Eridians have very refined sensation receptors on their exoskeleton which allows them to feel the slightest touch but not a lot of pain. The nature of their exterior means that not a lot can break through it. The Eridians were horrified by my skin and how easy it is to cut. Still, I have to ask. “Are you in any pain?”

“No,” Tori says and carefully runs a claw over the crack. Their tone is almost astonished. The other pebbles lean in close and some of them even look like they want to reach out and touch the injury but Tori pulls their limb away before I have to intervene. The mood has drastically changed. There is an air of curiosity and even awe. Like when a kid comes to class with a cast and everyone wants to sign it. “I was just surprised. Scared.”

“I bet,” I say and I should scold them all, now that the shock is fading. I told them to be careful with that boulder stuff so many times. But there is time for that later. Even though Tori seems okay now, it doesn’t sit right with me that I can’t ascertain that myself. I turn to Len, who is my most responsible student, and am just about to send them to get one of the nearby Eridian scientists in the facility when I look up and spot McCoy and Rocky near the back of the classroom.

Have they been standing there this whole time? Now that I think about it, the whole facility probably heard the commotion. Of course they will send someone over to check on things when more than a dozen pebbles suddenly start freaking out and crying. 

The moment they become aware of my attention, Rocky and the doctor hurry forward. The physician gives me a little wave and then takes care of Tori who already, much like any other kid I know, insists that they are ‘fiiiiiiine’ and they don’t need a doctor and ‘oh my Erid, this is so embarrassing’.

I smile a little. It’s weak and Rocky notices and presses a claw against the xenonite with a questioning warble. After the smallest of hesitation I press my hand against it as well, right over his. 

Everything is fine.

My heart is racing.

Completely fine.

I can’t breathe.

**************************************

Afterwards Rocky reassured me that no one will blame me for anything. Apparently it is pretty common for pebbles to earn their first nicks and cracks at that age. Their outer shell isn’t fully developed yet and not quite as hard as that of an adult. He proudly showed me various indents and hairline fractures on his own body, telling me about how he got them in his youth during adventures with his friends or just messing around.

It’s a sign of growth, he told me. A sign of getting older and maturing.

Not a big deal. Happens all the time.

I believe him. Tori was in good spirits afterwards. Their crying was more because of the shock and the scare, not any actual pain. We finished the rest of the day without any further incidents and then I wished them all a happy holiday and returned to my home and got into bed.

Where I stayed for the next eighteen hours.

I rub a hand over my face so I don’t have to look at my friend who is still keeping me pinned with his claw on my shirt. “I don’t know why- I know it wasn’t a big deal. Everything is fine. Let’s just drop it, okay?”

Evidently, Rocky has no intention of dropping it.

“You’re not telling Rocky what’s wrong. Just like on Mary. When you didn’t tell me that you wouldn’t be able to go home.” 

I flinch. That’s a bit of a sore topic between us still. “That’s not fair! It's nothing like that!”

“Grace is not fair! Rocky wants to help! Tell Rocky what’s wrong!”

“I told you, nothing’s wrong. You are so stubborn!”

“You are stubborn!”

“Dear.” The voice is quiet but it still cuts through our budding argument like a knife. Adrian hasn’t moved an inch. “How about you go set up the picnic and I will keep Grace company while he gets ready.”

It is phrased like a suggestion but it doesn’t feel like one. Rocky vibrates on the spot, clearly ready and willing to argue. I silently urge him to leave. I can’t do this with him right now. 

Despite my annoyance with him the thought still sends a pang through my heart. Sending Rocky away feels wrong, like I’m ordering myself to stop breathing. My dependency on him hasn’t really gotten any better despite the therapy but it’s not like we’ve been working on our issues very hard. Maybe it would be different if Adrian actually had a problem with us being glued to each other but they have been more than happy to attach themselves just as hard and I for my part have been happy to become just as dependent on them as well. 

Yeah, Dr. Ryland Grace, poster child for mental health improvement, right here everyone!

I’m happy Adrian is the one taking charge and sending Rocky away, I don’t know if I’d be strong enough to do it. Rocky obviously doesn’t want to go but as much as he likes to boss you around he usually defers to Adrian when they are using that tone. It took me one afternoon watching them to see that Adrian is the sensible one in this relationship, the one keeping Rocky emotionally grounded and calm. 

Those years alone must have been hell for my friend, without his safe haven. 

But he wouldn't be Rocky if he left without a scene. He huffs and puffs and stomps over to the quilt and violently shakes it out. Sand flies everywhere. I roll my eyes but let him have his little tantrum. He deserves it.

“Rocky will go! But this is not over. Rocky will find out what is wrong and Rocky will fix, statement!”

“Sure buddy,” I mumble and wonder if he’s noticed how much he has slipped back into old speaking patterns. He must be really agitated and I feel bad but not bad enough to call him back. He runs through the unbarricaded front door, holding the quilt over his head so it doesn't trail on the floor, and slams it shut behind him. The bang echoes in the silence he leaves behind. 

I become uncomfortably aware that I'm alone with Adrian now. Maybe Rocky would have been the safer bet. I know how to distract my hot-headed best friend, how to push his buttons until he’s so worked up he forgets what we were talking about in the first place. I’m not that familiar yet with his mate. There haven’t been many opportunities to talk to them alone, least of all discuss serious matters. 

Adrian is so much calmer than Rocky. Reasonable. They are methodical when it comes to approaching problems and conflicts. I doubt my usual tactics of willful ignorance and silly distractions will be enough to get them off my back. 

But maybe I’m wrong about their intentions. Maybe they didn’t try to get me alone but were just genuinely tired of listening to Rocky and me bicker like children? 

“Dearest Grace is not okay.”

Alrighty. So much for that hope. 

I groan and roll my eyes. I play it up, make myself sound more annoyed than I am. My hands are still shaking a little and I hide it by pulling my sleep shirt over my head and looking for a new one. I rummage through a pile of clothes and pull out one of my favorites, the one that says ‘Lose an electron? Gotta keep an ion it’. I pull it over my head slowly. My voice is muffled when I say: “Don’t you start too.”

“Not starting anything. Just finishing what my dear mate clumsily started.” They sound amused. “Won’t you tell me what is worrying you?”

I fiddle with the shirt and glance at them out of the corner of my eyes. Adrian looks so serene and comfortable, loafing there in the middle of my home, just waiting for me to open up. It hits me again, how accommodating they have been to me and my intrusion into their life. I doubt they expected to get their beloved mate back with a leaky space blob in tow. Not everyone would have welcomed me like they did, with so much grace (hah!) and understanding.

I don’t want to ice them out. I have to give them something.

“I know nothing bad happened,” I start and chew on my lower lip. “It’s just… Even knowing that it didn’t feel so great in the moment, you know?” Adrian tilts their body. A nod. “It didn’t feel great that I was in a completely different room and couldn’t-” 

red lights flashing, a mechanical arm descending, holding me back, sticking something in my neck, darkness, no no no let me I have to I need to 

My heart seizes and I shake my head.

“What if something worse happens next time?”

Adrian hums. “There are always Eridians nearby. They heard the commotion and rushed to your aid immediately. But I understand. It must be hard, not being able to take control of the situation yourself.”

I nod miserably. I was about to send one of my pebbles to get help and even though it wasn’t necessary in the end it still didn’t feel good, being dependent on children that should be able to depend on me. 

“Would it help to install a way for you to call someone in an emergency?”

I perk up a little. “Like a panic button?”

“Appropriate name,” Adrian says and I can hear the humor in their voice. “Yes. Eridians always pay attention to Grace but maybe that would make you feel better. More in control.”

It would, actually. A bit of a placebo effect, maybe, but just the illusion of being able to get proactive in a crisis instead of just sitting around doing nothing should help. At least a little. 

“Yes. I would like that. Thank you, Adrian.”

“No trouble. I will let Rocky know.”

I snort and cross my arms. “You know, I may just be a dumb human but I’m smart enough to know Rocky is right outside that door and heard every word we just said.”

“I did!” my insufferable friend shouts through the door. “And don’t worry Grace, Rocky will take care of it. Rocky fix!”

There is the sound of retreating steps before they double back for a brief moment. “And don’t call yourself dumb. Only Rocky gets to do that.” 

I laugh a little and listen to him scramble down the stairs. Adrian titters with me. I relax. Now that Rocky has a problem to focus on I have room to breathe and sort through my own emotions. 

And by that I mean ignore them until they go away. 

I whistle and gather some of the stuff we will need for the picnic. When I turn to ask Adrian their opinion on something I notice that they are holding themselves unusually still. It takes me a moment to realize that they are listening to something outside my hearing range. 

A cold sweat breaks out on my back.

“Adrian-”

They shift and put all of their attention back on me again. I can tell despite the lack of a face and eyes because I immediately feel a heavy weight on me, invisible but very much tangible. 

“Mate has left the biodome and is outside of hearing range,” they say. “Now tell me what is really wrong.”

I stiffen. The stuff in my arms feels heavy all of a sudden and I put it down on the couch. That was a mistake, now I don’t know what to do with my hands. “I just told you, buddy.”

Adrian sways from side to side and holds out a claw. The invitation is clear but I ignore it. “It is part of the problem. But there is something else. Something you don’t want to tell Rocky. What is it?”

“I already have a therapist.” My caustic tone surprises even me and I immediately feel bad. Adrian doesn’t deserve to get snapped at like this. They only want to help. It’s not their fault I’m such a mess. 

“I’m not asking as your therapist. I’m asking as your friend.”

Ok, now I just feel like the scum of the earth. Great going, Grace. I groan and hide my face in my hands. “I’m really alright. I wish you two would stop worrying so much.”  

I wish I could stop worrying you.

“I worry. Rocky worries. Something scared you about yesterday. A lot.”

“I’m not scared.” I run a hand through my hair and walk up and down the room, careful to keep out of Adrian’s reach. They positioned themselves in a way that I can’t reach the door without walking past them and I just realized that that must have been by design. Smart, methodical Adrian. I should feel trapped but all I feel is an exasperated fondness. “There is nothing else. Isn’t it enough that one of my students got hurt and I couldn’t help? That’s a pretty good reason to be upset, right?”

“But you did help. You kept pebble calm and soothed them.”

“That’s not enough.”

“It is enough for pebble. No one is blaming-”

“It's not enough!” I shout. Calling it a scream would be an exaggeration but I’ve never raised my voice at anyone here, not even Rocky and certainly not Adrian whose mere presence is usually enough to lull you into a sense of serenity. They fall silent and even though they don’t move at all I can’t help the feeling that they are shocked at my outburst. Hurt? Did I hurt them? I always do that, don’t I? I can feel my breath quicken again, my heart racing. I need to explain but I don’t know how. My tongue is running away from me, words spilling from my mouth before I know what they will be. I can’t stop. “I couldn’t do anything! I was completely helpless. They were hurt and there was nothing I… I could only watch and… Nothing I did was…”

I don’t notice that I’ve been scratching at the scar on my arm until Adrian leans over and grips my wrist to stop me. I must have wandered closer and within grabbing distance without noticing. I look down at the claw holding my arm and at the shallow scratches sluggishly bleeding. 

I immediately deflate.

“Oh.”

Adrian slowly pulls me in and I follow without resistance. I feel floaty again, like I’m outside my own body. They pull me against them and gently push down on my shoulders until I’m sitting in the circle of their frontal arms. I sink down and feel the pressure of their limbs and carapace around me. It’s warm.

I sigh and just close my eyes for a minute. Adrian purrs, there is no other word for it. The vibrations loosen my stiff muscles. I unclench my hands and teeth and exhale shakily. Rocky’s hugs are the best but Adrian is big enough to really smother you. Like a weighted blanket.

When I think I’m back in control of my emotions (I’m not but who's to judge?) I grin up at them. I try to at least. 

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” 

They chuckle, more for my sake than any real amusement I think. I'm not even sure they get my lame joke but they don't do me the favor of asking for clarification. That would have given me the perfect opportunity to bombard them with a Ted talk about human idioms and sayings. Not that I think I can string two sentences together right now. 

God, I'm so tired. 

I try not to look at my scratched up arm. They are not deep and have already stopped bleeding but Rocky and the doctors will definitely notice and ask a lot of questions and just the thought makes me want to hurl. 

Adrian is silent for a very long time, just holding me. I feel so warm and comfortable that I could fall asleep if it weren’t for the coming conversation hanging over me like the sword of damocles. 

When they break their silence, it is not what I expect. 

“Mate came back with a lot of new scars. I asked them what happened and they told me. I was very angry.” I flinch and try to lean away but Adrian’s hold is unrelenting. Inescapable. “Angry for a long time. At mate. At Grace. Could have lost mate. Did not understand why they would sacrifice themselves for Grace.”

I want to say ‘I’m sorry’ but what comes out of my treacherous mouth is “I don’t understand it either.”

Adrian runs a claw over my back. “But then I meet Grace. You are still weak and frail. You are asleep for a very long time. Doctors don’t think Grace will survive. But Rocky insists you will live. Insists that you are strong. Says you two made a deal so you have to live. No one knows what that means but I know my Rocky. I know they are right.”

The memories of the weeks just before we reached Erid are very murky. I’d spent most of them just lying down, shivering and hallucinating. 

But there is one memory that is clear as day: Rocky leaning over me, forcing my arm up and closing my fingers into a fist. I remember wondering how he was able to do that, if he’d left his ball again. But I was too weak for panic, too far gone to realize the implications. Only later did I learn that he’d used the very last bits of his xenonite supply to make a better suit when I started losing my sense of reality. Just in case he'd have to hold me and keep me from harming myself. 

He forced my hand into a fist and then bumped his own against mine and repeatedly said. “Deal. Deal. Deal. Grace survive. Grace bumped Rocky's fist. It is a deal.”

I don’t remember agreeing. Apparently I did. 

“And you survive. You wake up,” Adrain’s voice is very low, just meant for me. “I stopped being angry at you long before that. Saw your scar. Knew what Rocky meant to you. What you meant to Rocky. You were ours. Happy happy happy when you finally woke up. But waiting was scary. Could not do anything to help. Just wait. Reminded me of the time I spent waiting for mate's return.” They put their claw over my arm, right where Rocky’s mark sits. A constant reminder. “Feelling helpless is scary.”

The dam breaks. I sob and push my face against their carapace and curl up as small as I can make myself go. My eyes are squeezed shut and images run through my head like the world’s worst slideshow. The flashing lights as Mary spins out of control. Rocky screeching in fright and pain. Me being crushed against the console by my own chair, straining against the forces, feeling my bones grind against each other. Nothing I can do.

And then, even worse. The aftermath. Waking up and… and…

“I woke up and he was gone,” I gasp out between sobs. “There was so much sooth and debris and everything hurt and I couldn’t find him at first. And then I found him in his corner and he was so still. And he looked… he looked dead and I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t tell if he was dead or just asleep. And there was nothing I could do to find out! I couldn't touch him or wake him up. I made him a heat lamp but that wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t enough!”

Nothing felt like enough back then. I distracted myself with the Taumoeba research but that can only do so much. I found myself going back to Rocky's resting place constantly. Leaning against the xenonite, pushing my hands and face against the material, staring at him, trying to see the smallest movement, anything that would tell me he was still alive. That I wasn’t spending hours of the day looking at the corpse of my best friend. That I hadn’t killed him.

My eyes were constantly dry because I would stare at him for hours, too afraid to blink. Sometimes I would fool myself into thinking he’d moved just to realize that no, he hadn’t. Just my mind playing tricks on me. 

And always, always, that damned barrier between us. That smooth xenonite keeping me from him. Keeping us apart. 

It was torture. 

I’ve never felt so helpless in my life. Not even when that doctor came into Stratts office with the syringe ready and loaded. Not even when I was tackled to the ground and sedated. 

I never wanted to feel that way again.

Yesterday was an unfortunate reminder that nothing has changed. There is still nothing I can do if a loved one is in danger. If Rocky or Adrian or any of my pebbles ever needed me, what could I do? 

Nothing. 

I’m still helpless. 

Still trapped behind a wall. 

Still useless. 

Maybe I've said the last part out loud. Maybe Adrian just knows me well enough by now.

“Grace is not useless. Mate told me they heard Grace during the big sleep. Grace kept talking constantly.” Adrian nudges me. “Annoying but helpful.”

I bark a wet laugh and look up, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “You are just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Would not do that.”

They totally would. They do it all the time. And I know that Eridians keep watch of each other when they sleep because they are gone to the world, completely paralyzed. No way did Rocky hear my voice. 

But what did Adrian call it? The big sleep? Is that like their version of a coma? Maybe those work differently. Humans are also known to report hearing the voices of their loved ones while they are in a coma. Is it maybe the same for Eridians?

I am grasping at straws, I think.

But wouldn’t it be nice to imagine? Just for a bit?

“You weren’t able to touch the pebble but you were able to soothe and comfort them anyway. Made them calm down with words alone. The mere presence of Grace was enough to make them feel safe.” Adrian lowers their carapace towards me until the top of it bumps into my forehead. It must be uncomfortable for them. 

We stay like that for a long time. 

“Grace is enough.”

*****************************************

The next day in class Rocky is with me in my dome. He shows me where they installed the panic button and that pressing it will instantly notify the entire biodome team, no matter where they are in the building. I thought the button would only be cosmetic, that it wouldn’t really mean anything to me, but seeing it actually gives me a bit of security. Some dangers are silent, after all. Now I have the ability to call for help in a fast and efficient way in situations where Eridians might not immediately realize something is wrong. 

It feels better than I thought it would. 

It took Rocky a long time to return yesterday, long enough that I got to cry a little bit more and then get my bearings back and stop looking like a teary eyed wreck. I wondered if he might not have heard at least part of our conversation, considering the fact that he didn’t ask me any more questions about that morning. Instead he’d been very clingy upon his return, constantly in contact with me and keeping one of his claws over the scar, covering the scratches, as we sat down to watch the waves.

Yes. I think it’s pretty safe to say that he heard at least part of it. 

He hasn’t breached the subject yet and I’m glad. There are only so many emotional bloodlettings I can stomach in a day. But I know it is coming. Rocky might temporarily table this discussion for my sake but we will have to talk about this at some point. 

For now I just deal with him hovering and put a reassuring hand on the top of his carapace. “Thanks, pal. I feel better already.”

“Happy happy happy!” He presses against my legs and I think this might be one of those days where he’ll play unofficial teacher’s assistant and just stay right here, close by. The pebbles love it and it’s fun ordering him around to fetch me stuff so who am I to say no.

“What is that?” A voice pipes up and I look over to see my students filter into their half of the classroom. The question came from Tori who is pressed against the barrier to get a better read. I go over and crouch down in front of them.

“How are you feeling?” I ask and try to not be too obvious as I look over their limbs. It takes me a moment to find the crack because it merges so well with the rest of their markings and this relieves me more than I can say. 

“Good good good,” they say, dismissively. They point past me at the red button sitting on the side of my desks. “What is that?”

Other pebbles are gathering around, also staring at the new feature. “It’s a button that will allow me to call for help if something like your accident happens again.”

They all chitter confusedly. 

“Why?” Sam asks.

“It’s just a precaution. I felt a little-” Come on Grace, be honest with them. It’s the least you can do. “A little useless. Because I couldn’t help you.”

A murmur travels through the crowd and Tori stomps their feet four times. “Not true!” they shout and others warble their agreement. “Teacher Grace helped! Teacher Grace helped a lot! I was scared and then I wasn’t because Teacher Grace was there and Teacher Grace was calm and told me everything would be okay. And then Teacher Grace hummed for me and played with me and everything was okay again!” They grow quiet and thoughtful. “When I first met Teacher Grace I asked them how they were supposed to help while on the other side of the xenonite. Teacher Grace told Tori to trust them. Teacher Grace was right.”

I can’t cry again, not after the day I had yesterday. I will be as dry as a prune at this rate. 

“Thank you,” I croak and clear my voice. “I really appreciate that. But I just feel better with the button. Just in case.”

The pebbles seem to discuss something among themselves before Sam addresses Rocky who’d been hovering behind me with a claw pressed against my back. “We want a button too! On our side! In case Teacher Grace trips. Teacher Grace trips a lot. What if they hit their head or break the things in their arms and legs?”

“Bones,” I supply automatically before I catch myself. “Hey, I don’t trip that much-”

“That is a good idea,” Rocky interrupts me. “Smart pebbles. Rocky will install a button for you first thing tomorrow.”

The pebbles all cheer. Before I can protest Rocky leans closer. “Fair is fair.”

I look at my pebbles, happy that they get to help their bumbling teacher in case of an emergency and I laugh.

“Yeah, okay. Fair is fair.”