Chapter Text
"Historically, people lived in small, tight-knit communities, where meeting someone new was a rare event. Back then, finding and identifying your soulmate was an easy task; all it took was one look at the soulmark on your forearm, and understanding the change of color from black to gold.
If that was still not enough, family and friends would pull together to help, which, as observed in other animal species who practice social monogamy and therefore have the necessary biology for soulmarks to form on their bodies during gestation, had an almost 98% success rate of reuniting the couple.
In modern times, however, with the amount of strangers one passes by on the streets daily, identifying one's soulmate has become somewhat of a Sisyphean task. Especially in big cities, where that process takes, on average, eighteen months of active searching, many people simply give up, creating a loneliness epidemic fueled by learned helplessness."
Three days was not enough time to mentally prepare for an interstellar trip.
Obviously.
For that exact reason, Eva Stratt gave herself an extra week to get used to her new surroundings, requesting to be woken up from her coma seven Earth days before the rest of the crew. This was partially to avoid being vulnerable in front of Yao and Ilyukhina, though her main concern was getting herself ready to face, comfort, and guide the amnesiac mess that will inevitably be left of her newly identified soulmate.
The thought filled her mouth with a bitter taste, and her left hand temporarily let go of her hot coffee, to itch the covered soulmark on her right forearm.
It was good that she had been woken up early. She had spent her entire first day in space huddled up by the wall closest to Doctor Grace's bed, her overwhelmed brain unable to make sense of the sheer amount of life changing information before her. Her mind and body craved her soulmate on a biological level, while the intelligent, human part of her, wanted nothing more than to slap him over and over again for making her become this terrified, emotional shell of herself.
The second day was easier. Eva had started to explore the Hail Mary, still periodically checking up on Doctor Grace, the primal part of her brain not quite convinced he was safe without her. Slowly, her rationality and pragmatism came back. At the end of the day, she even got herself acquainted with the pilot's chair and some of the lab equipment, hoping to be more helpful when the mission starts.
On the third day, she discovered that her fears about the well-being of her soulmate were fully justified. Eva did not account for half of the crew dying in the coma, years before the Hail Mary had reached its destination on the orbit of Tau Ceti. Once again, she found herself spiraling on the floor next to Grace's bed, hating herself for feeling relieved that he was the one who survived. Ilyukhina and Yao were good people. Brave people. People who shared her devotion to humanity, to the point of self sacrifice.
That day she also decided to stop referring to her soulmate as "Doctor Grace" in her mind. Just "Grace" seemed more appropriate, while Ryland was too intimate. At least for the moment.
She spent the fourth day pacing around the ship, trying to find the courage to do something, anything, with the mummified bodies of her crew. She found none. Instead, she chose to read any possible document about piloting spaceships that she could get her hands on. If this mission was going to be carried out by just her and Grace alone, she would do all she could to help fill in the role of both pilot and engineer. That way, he could focus solely on the science, and leave the rest to her. Good thing she had the foresight to upload the entire internet to the Hail Mary.
The fifth day brought on something she did not expect- a deep sense of loneliness. Eva had always been a lone wolf, finding comfort in solitude rather than the suffocating embrace of others. Now, stuck with two dead bodies and one comatose soulmate as her only company, she realized that the privacy she valued so deeply on earth, was slowly drowning her in space. So she did the only rational thing she could think of- planning.
By the sixth day, she had devised a solid plan for completing the mission, while minimizing any risk of getting distracted with emotional nonsense. After Grace will wake on the eighth day, she will brief him about their mission, get his scrambled brain to be at least slightly functional, and then they'd get rid of the dead bodies together. She would wear a bandaid or patch on her right arm to cover her soulmark at all times, plus her usual long sleeves. Her attitude towards Grace will be nothing but professional, which he should believe, given his impending amnesia hopefully erasing any recollection of their bond. Though her body yearned to take care of him, Eva believed herself to be fully capable of ignoring the urge for the sake of the mission. Still, while Grace was in the coma, she could love on him a bit with no consequence. It wasn't as if he could remember.
So she spent the night between the sixth and seventh day snuggled up to him, her arms wrapped around the plastic sleeping bag, careful not to pull on any tubes. Her plan did not include the acknowledgement of their soulbond, but it would only be set in motion after Grace would be awakened. For the next twenty four hours, he was hers.
The seventh day was spent in preparation. Eva took it upon herself to cut Grace's hair to his preferred length and shave his beard. Clean clothes for him were put out close to his bed, along with a stick of deodorant and a pack of sour skittles as a sweet treat. He liked that on Earth, it should comfort him in space, too. After having prepared everything, Eva finally turned her focus on herself. She showered, put her hair in a neat braid, washing and combing out any trace of the first emotional six days she spent awake on board of the Hail Mary. A small bandaid was placed on her soulmark. Coffee was prepared by the robot, just how she liked it. Everything was tidy, clean, the lab ready for use. She slept next to Grace again, for the last time, committing his smell to memory.
On the eighth day, she was herself again. Her feelings buried behind a mask of pragmatism and logic, her fingers gripping the warm cup of coffee with practiced indifference. He will wake up soon. He will wake, and she will start pretending that he means nothing to her.
Just like he had, during their years on the Vat together, refusing to tell her the details of their bond until it was too late.
Until she had sent him to his death, and in return, he dragged her with him.
Eva swallowed the bitterness at the memory, forcing her hand away from her covered soulmark. This was fine. She will do everything in her power to save Earth, even if it means fighting against her own instinct and pushing her soulmate away. Then, she will die. Humanity could not afford for her to do anything else.
"Eye movement detected." The Hail Mary's robotic voice spoke, pulling her out of her thoughts.
Grace had awakened. It was time.
Like most people, Ryland Grace did not immediately realize he had met his soulmate. The only reason he even noticed that his mark had changed from black to gold on the day it happened, was that he felt too warm in the car he was forced into, and had to take his yellow jacket off. And there it was- bright, illuminating his right forearm with the warm glow of an optimistic future.
Optimistic. Right.
The sun was dying, possibly being eaten away by some alien microorganism, and his only options for potential soulmates were the very people who basically forced him into this incredibly stuffy black car. Not ideal.
Carl was the choice that would have upset him the least. Though Ryland was never a huge fan of muscles, he could get used to having a bodyguard around. Plus, Carl looked as if he gave fantastic cuddles, and that was a great advantage for a soulmate in Ryland's eyes. Heck, a cute bodyguard cuddling him on the couch almost made him excited about this situation. There was one problem, though- Carl seemed to be wearing a wedding ring, and Ryland knew that obtaining a marriage license in most countries required proof of a confirmed soul bond. He had used that excuse whenever his ex girlfriends would start hinting about a ring, which now seemed to come back to bite him on the butt.
That left him with the only other option. Stratt. The no-nonsense mastermind behind his kidnapping, who apparently read his dissertation, did some serious internet stalking to find out the details of his departure from academia, and then probably did more internet stalking to figure out where he works, so she could kidnap him from there.
Fudge.
How would a soulbond with a person who appeared to be the world's okayest dictator even look like? They'd be in bed, he'd be mindlessly scrolling through social media, and then he'd glance at the screen of her laptop and he'd see plans to hold the president hostage, or a different, equally ridiculous thing, in the name of what she considers to be the greater good.
He shifted slightly, the seatbelts feeling a bit too restrictive, and peeked at Stratt's computer. She was writing an email, her nails hitting the keyboard with surprising softness, given how quickly she was typing. The subject line of the email was written in the Cyrillic alphabet, and was addressed to none other than Vladimir Putin, which Ryland could thankfully decipher, as the email address was written in the Latin alphabet.
Great. Nothing screams romance more than your soulmate causally corresponding with a well-known war criminal inside a moving vehicle going to a mystery location.
"Are you actually chatting with Putin right now?" Ryland asked, too bewildered to care about revealing any violations of privacy he committed by looking at her screen. Stratt turned to him, her expression unchanged, and seemingly unbothered.
"There was a visa issue I needed fixed." She answered. "Going through hundreds of useless diplomats would be a waste of my time. It's more efficient to contact him directly and have him solve it."
"He's a war criminal!"
"Yes, and he is also funding this project, along with Donald Trump, Xi Jinping, Jeff Bezos and Kim Jong Un, just to name a few. Besides, every dollar spent on saving humanity, instead of bombing civilians and invading neighboring countries, is money well spent, no?"
"Well, yes, but-"
"Then it is settled." Stratt said, before pressing send and closing her laptop. "If you do not like the idea of me keeping up with some of the most immoral, tyrannical people on this planet, I suggest you do not look over my shoulder next time, Doctor Grace."
Ryland's face turned beet red, and he suddenly found great interest in his shoes. What a phenomenal start of their journey as soulmates.