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I wince and carefully rub the ointment into my arm. The texture under my hand is awfuuuullll. It's all scaly and gross. At least that means it's healing, I guess...
I pause with a sigh and look at the length of the scarring. I doubt it will ever heal completely. I've kept it from getting infected and that's the best I can do. It was worth it to save Rocky.
I don't like that I can't feel anything in my arm. Maybe the nerves will heal themselves, but it's doubtful. Neural tissue doesn't heal well. At least it was in my arm and not my brain. I grumble and bandage it back up. I hate the feel of it digging into my armpit. It scratches horribly and reminds me of the healing process for my top surgery. I grumble again and hold my arm out as far from myself as I can comfortably.
Rocky rolls his way into the room in his protective xenonite ball. He lays down with a soft trill sound and lets off some steam from his vents.
"Rocky sorry, statement..." he whispers. "Grace hurt bad bad bad. Rocky's fault..."
I look over at him and furrow my brow. "Your fault? No, buddy. I was saving you. You saved me, so I saved you."
"Grace hurt...Arm never get better." He warbles and pulls his legs up around himself.
I frown and rub my forehead in thought. He's seen so much. His old crewmates probably had Eridian equivalent burns before they never woke up. I feel bad about having to do this in his presence, but everywhere on the ship is in his presence. There's no other choice.
I sigh and lean forward to rest a hand on Rocky's ball. He starts to cringe away before I rest my palm on the top firmly. "It's ok," I mumble. "I'm safe. You're safe. We're both healing now and getting to where we need to be. I promise you won't hurt me the same from this kind of touch."
Rocky chitters a bit and sinks down onto the floor again with his legs splayed out. "Rocky hurt..." he starts. "Rocky hurt Grace...Can't fix...Bad bad bad Eridian..."
I fight back tears and rest my forehead against the ball. "Oh, Rock...You did hurt me, but it was temporary and done so I could fix you," I whisper. "I don't know what I would have done without you."
My friend squirms a bit in his spot. I've come to learn that his fidgeting in place is a sign of intense frustration or distress. This is probably both. He taps a couple claws on the floor before curling them into fists.
"Grace hurt self on Rocky...Rocky fault," he trills. He's everything but compliant. I can't help but chuckle a bit from his stubbornness.
"I did hurt myself. But..." I tilt my head to think. "Think of it this way. It was a temporary pain causing a permanent mark." I unwrap part of the bandage to reveal a sliver of fresh scarring. "These will be a reminder of the event. They'll remind me of your bravery and love for me when you pulled me to safety, and they'll remind me that...you're the one I need to be brave for."
I smile to myself and cover the mark again. Rocky goes still and fidgets with his claws. I take it as a good sign and continue.
"Sometimes a bad event resulting in a bad scar can be looked back on with joy." I smile and rest my forehand and hand against the ball again. "These scars are beautiful. Not because of the scariness, but because I can look back and remember that I got them out of a place of love."
Rocky fidgets again for another minute before making a low rumble sound. "Scars beautiful for meaning...Grace love Rocky, question?" he asks slowly.
I go slightly red and nod. "Yeah...I do. Always."
My friend trills and hesitantly presses the front of his shell against me. I hug the ball back. "Rocky love Grace, statement. Big big big love," he whispers.
I smile and nuzzle against the glass. "Love you too, Rocky."
I feel a claw reach through the xenonite mesh and gently touch the scar under my chest. "What this meaning, question?" he chirps. Right. I never told him about that. I'm sure he noticed long ago but just didn't want to press me about it, but despite all this time to figure out how to explain, I still feel a bit of anxiety well up in my stomach. How am I supposed to explain something as complicated as gender? Sex is hard enough for a sexless species, but this...
"Well, um..." I start. "Those are top surgery scars. I told you about the basics in human sexual dimorphisms, right?" He chirps in agreement. "Well, sometimes humans don't feel comfortable with the parts they're born with..."
"Parts indicating different sexes, question?" he asks. He's a smart one.
"Exactly. I, um, originally had female parts. I realized as a child that they didn't feel right and I was actually supposed to be a boy. So once I was able to, I got the treatment I needed to be myself. That included removing excess breast tissue in a thing called 'top surgery.'"
Rocky taps a claw against my chest in thought. "Grace originally opposite of man, and then became man?" He sounds curious but careful about his phrasing.
I nod. "Yeah. Sort of. It's more like I always was a man, but I just needed a little extra help to feel fully comfortable as one."
"Scars remind of past pain, but also remind of happiness in self. Scars very beautiful," he trills. I smile and feel tears prickle in my eyes. I hug the ball tighter and let them fall and trickle down the glass.
"Yeah. They are beautiful. Thank you, Rocky," I mutter breathily.
My friend coos and leans against me. "Grace leaky and gross," he says without any real bite.
I chuckle. "Yeah. Just a little."
He rests a claw against my heart and purrs.
"Rocky love every part of Grace. Always."