Archive of Our Own

“Please, you can’t do this! This is murder!” Grace screams, tears running down his face.

He gasps for air and finds he can’t draw a full breath with the knee pressing into his back and the earth beneath him compressing his lungs. All he gets is a mouthful of dirt for his trouble. He squirms and fights with every ounce of strength he possesses, writhing like a caged animal against the hold the security guards have on him, but it’s no use. They’re all stronger than him and working together to hold him down while they wait for another to arrive.

Grace inhales sharply as he feels the prick of a needle in his neck. It’s there and gone as quick as a bee sting, but Grace still sobs when he feels it. He knows what it means for him, knows what’s about to happen to him-

A familiar pair of shoes move in front of him, black leather polished to a shine. Grace looks up. The world blurs around him, though Grace isn’t sure if it’s from the drugs already seeping into his system or the gathering tears clouding his vision.

“Carl,” he gasps, strangled, “Carl, please-“

“You know who you are,” Carl says, expression unwavering. “You’re gonna do great.”

The last shred of hope Grace had been holding onto quickly vanishes. He’s hauled up from the ground. He can’t even attempt to make a break for it, all his limbs flopping uselessly like they’re full of jelly. He can barely even lift his head anymore. He can still taste the grit of dirt on his tongue.

They hoist him up into the back of a waiting truck, depositing him roughly in the bed of it. Grace hears engine rattle, and they’re off, the clouds blurring as they fly past him. There’s a rainbow stretching across the gray sky, faded colors blending into each other. Grace’s vision begins to dim even as he fights to stay awake.

This can’t be the last time he sees the sky. This can’t be the last time he feels solid ground under his feet or wind on his face or fresh air whistling through his lungs. He doesn’t want to go on the mission. He doesn’t want to save the universe. He doesn’t want to- to…

Grace doesn’t even realize it when his eyes close and the last bit of his consciousness finally fades.

[Loop 1]

Grace sits bolt upright in his bed, gasping for air. A hand flies to his chest where he can feel his pulse racing under his fingertips. His eyes dart around wildly, unseeing as they adjust to the darkness of the room, and then-

He exhales shakily. It’s his room back at the Petrova Task Force’s dorms. Blank walls, blank ceiling, minimal personal effects aside from a couple of letters from his students pinned up on the walls and a bean bag resting on the desk near his laptop.

Grace reaches for his glasses on the nightstand. It takes him a couple of tries with how badly his hands are trembling before he manages to slip them on. The time on the digital clock near his bed sharpens to read five in the morning. The world is a few shades lighter than total darkness from what he can see poking through the slats in his window blinds, but it’s still far too early for the sunrise.

“A dream,” Grace whispers, running his other hand through his already messy hair. “It was just…”

He sags in relief. Gosh, he must be a lot more stressed than he thought. Then again, maybe that’s not a surprise. When he taps his phone, still on its charger, he sees the date is the same as it had been in his nightmare - three days before the planned launch of the Hail Mary. Well, he thinks he can hardly be blamed for a little anxiety.

The fate of the world was riding on this after all

But wow, what a horrible dream to have. Him? Aboard the ship and sent light years from home to Tau Ceti to hopefully find a way to save the universe and ultimately die?! Yeah, he should probably stop drinking coffee before bed. It always gave him the worst dreams. He shakes his head. Part of him thinks he should probably try and go back to sleep. He still has about an hour and a half before he was supposed to be up and getting ready for the morning debriefing with Stratt-

Abruptly, Grace’s stomach roils. Stratt. The memory of her piercing gaze in his nightmare was enough to make him feel sick. The way she’d stared at him right before she’d given the order had been so cold. It had felt like she wasn’t even looking at him anymore, like she was looking right through him. Grace shakes his head.

A dream, it was a dream.

He feels a little ridiculous for being scared of her for something his subconscious just happened to cook up. In the past he remembers he’d laughed at Marissa in college once because she’d had a dream of her boyfriend, his then roommate, cheating on her and she’d been miffed at him for days afterward.

He’d thought it was ridiculous at the time. After all, how could someone be responsible for the way they’d acted in someone else’s dream? Now that he can actually feel the residual terror though - the nausea churning in his own gut, the sweat sticking to his clammy skin, the grind of dirt between his teeth - he thinks he might owe Marissa an apology nearly twenty years after the fact.

Feeling too hot and too cold all at once, Grace throws the covers off and gets to his feet. He nearly stumbles as he takes the first step, but he manages to make it to the tiny attached bathroom and waiting shower. He carelessly tugs his sweaty pajamas off and twists the shower knob, hopping under the spray before the water has warmed up. The cold water helps to clear his head just a bit, and by the time the temperature has shifted he feels like he can fully exhale.

He stays in the shower for longer than his normal ten to fifteen minutes, but it’s not like he’s paying the water bill here. Grace only exits the shower once he can actually feel some warmth in his fingers and toes again, and when he looks in the mirror his skin is pink and steaming. There’s still a lingering sense of unease as he gets dressed and ready for the day, but he’s been suffering from that pretty much since the week started, so he tries to brush it off.

The walk from the dorms to the main building feels longer than usual, and Grace wastes no time heading for the coffee machine in the cafeteria. He loads a capsule into the machine and taps his fingers against the counter impatiently as he waits for it to fill. He ends up taking a sip before he even adds his usual cream and sugar. The first gulp burns his tongue, but strangely enough that helps reassure him that he is in the cafeteria and not drugged in the back of a truck carting him off to the Hail Mary.

He finally dumps the cream and sugar in and takes a few more sips, slower and more pensive now as he lets the heat from the drink seep into his palms. His thoughts take a more melancholy turn. Grace himself might not be bound for the depths of space, but Yáo, Ilyukhina and DuBois all were. Those were the heroes, not Grace. He’d never be brave enough to volunteer for such a mission, couldn’t even fathom whatever inspired people to be able to sacrifice themselves for others, for the good of humanity-

Grace shakes his head. No, people like him were best left behind microscopes and petri dishes with both feet planted firmly on the ground.

Feeling slightly better after two cups of coffee and a bagel, Grace finally makes his way to the morning debriefing meeting room, arriving ten minutes ahead of schedule. Stratt is already setting up her meeting presentation, eyebrow rising as she sees Grace enter.

“You’re here early,” she states.

“Had some trouble sleeping,” Grace admits. “Need any help?”

She shakes her head. “I’ve already finished.” There are papers sitting in front of every chair on the tables, and it looks like the projector is already hooked up. Honestly, Grace has always been impressed by how proficient she is with technology. He used to struggle with the projector at the middle school and one of his students would usually have to help him get the thing working.

“Ah, yeah,” Grace mutters awkwardly.

“Nervous?” Stratt asks, ever perceptive.

“I guess,” Grace replies, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not sure why though considering I’m not doing the hard part.” He almost wants her to laugh it off (not that he’s really seen her laugh at all) just to reassure him that he’s really, really not going to space, but she just nods.

“It’s normal to be anxious about something like this,” she says.

“You don’t look very anxious,” Grace points out with a half-laugh.

“Of course not,” Stratt says, “Can you imagine what would happen if I walked around here looking panicked?”

And well, Grace can’t really argue with that. The last thing the Task Force needs right now is to see their leader looking worried instead of the calm and composed air that Stratt usually projected. Grace is pretty sure if he ever saw her looking scared, he’d start looking for emergency exits soon after.

“Fair enough.” Grace glances at the screen that she’s setting up then, and is almost immediately hit with a sense of deja vu.

Third Check, Flight Path Review, Coma Test Results

The header on the slide is the same one from Grace’s dream, and Grace feels ice seeping into his veins. He tries to shake it off as a coincidence. Maybe he’d just… seen something the other day that he hadn’t processed at the time but had come out in his subconscious. There’s no way he could have predicted it.

His throat closes up. “Did you…?”

“Good morning!”

Grace nearly yelps as the door swings open and Ilyukhina bounds in. Yáo and DuBois aren’t far behind her, along with their backups and an assortment of other scientists. Ilyukhina pats Grace on the shoulder as she passes him, offering him a big smile before heading for her seat. Yáo and DuBois both give him nods as well, and there are a few scattered greetings from the others.

“What were you saying?” Stratt asks.

“I- it’s nothing,” Grace says. Abruptly he feels embarrassed to have almost questioned her about something he’d seen in a dream of all things. He gives her a stiff smile before heading for his own seat.

The sense of deja vu doesn’t lessen though, especially not once Stratt quickly dispenses the basic pleasantries and dives right into the first slide. It’s also the same as the one from his dream. Grace looks down at the handout in front of him and finds it to be identical as well.

“You look like you’re about to be sick, are you feeling alright?” Ilyukhina whispers from next to Grace.

“Ah, uh, I’m fine,” Grace mutters, lying through his teeth. “Just… ate something that didn’t agree with me last night.”

Ilyukhina nods in understanding, none the wiser. “I hear the sushi they put out for dinner got a couple of people sick. Don’t trust the seafood.”

Grace tries for a reassuring smile, but it’s not necessary considering Ilyukhina’s gone back to watching the presentation. He exhales silently before looking up himself. His stomach drops when he sees ‘Simulation Testing’ scheduled for later that afternoon. He glances furtively at DuBois, but the other is oblivious. Grace blinks when he notices the other’s arm pressed loosely up against Shapiro’s, though the churning in his gut worsens when he remembers that she’d been with DuBois when… when…

He abruptly stands from his seat, making the metal legs of the chair squeal across the floor. His face flushes as every eye immediately turns to him. “Uh- ah, sorry! Bathroom!”

Grace all but runs from the room. Behind him he can hear Ilyukhina saying something about bad sushi, but he can’t even focus on that for long before he’s sprinting for the restrooms and dry heaving into one of the toilets. There’s not much in his stomach to come up, but the taste of bile is sour on his tongue. After a few minutes he hears someone knocking on the stall door.

“You okay in there?”

Grace’s heart freezes as he hears Carl’s voice, then looks down to see those same polished black shoes standing outside the stall door. “Uh- yeah!” He calls back, throat raw, “Just- just give me a second!”

“…Alright.”

There are a few footsteps then the sound of the bathroom door heavily swinging shut. Grace sits back on the dirty tile floor, resting against the flimsy metal door of the stall. Every time he closes his eyes he can see the flames licking at the sky and smoke billowing in the wind. The echoes of an explosion are loud in his ears, pounding in time with his heartbeat.

“Just a dream,” Grace says, pressing his hands against his eyes and aggressively rubbing them until he sees spots. “Just. A. Dream.”

The words ring hollow against the tile.

By the time he leaves the bathroom, Carl is staring at him with concern. When Grace mutters something about sushi though, the other’s expression clears. “You gotta avoid the fish here, man. I thought you knew that by now.”

Grace laughs weakly, “Well, you know. I like to give people second chances.”

Carl shakes his head, though Grace can see the corners of his lips tugging upward. “Get back there before Stratt has your head.”

“Ah, yeah.” Grace grimaces.

The walk back to the meeting room feels like he’s walking down executioner’s row. Even after washing his mouth out in the bathroom sink, his teeth still feel disgustingly gritty - dirt between his - no. Focus. He needs to find a toothbrush the minute he can get out of here.

When he opens the door, it looks like the meeting is already wrapping up. The slideshow has ended, and some of the room’s occupants are standing and chatting with each other. Grace spots DuBois and Shapiro smiling at each other in the corner, seemingly in their own little bubble despite everyone around them. Grace’s stomach twists uncomfortably. Ilyukhina waves at Grace when he enters, and he waves back but still crosses to where the mission scientists are. DuBois and Shapiro actually look surprised when they see Grace approaching them, but both greet him easily.

“Ilyukhina told us it was the fish that got you,” Shapiro says, sympathetic.

“Don’t trust the sushi,” DuBois says, eyes haunted with the weight of personal experience.

“Yeah, I won’t make that mistake again, don’t worry,” Grace says. “Uh, you two have simulation training today, right?”

“We do,” Shapiro confirms. “Technically I’m supposed to have it at a different time slot, but-“

“We pulled a few strings,” DuBois says, eyeing Shapiro suggestively.

Grace swallows hard. “Ah, right.” He hesitates before adding. “Be careful with the simulator today.” When both of them look confused, Grace hurries to add, “I mean, I hear some of the scientists are getting sloppy with all the measurements so, just… Make sure?” The last part comes out as more of a question.

They both still look baffled, but nod.

“Don’t worry, we’ll check,” DuBois says.

“Okay,” Grace says, finally feeling a tiny bit of the weight lift off his shoulders. “That’s… okay.”

“The samples were mislabeled,” Stratt says tightly. “It was a mistake.” Her phone has been practically glued to her ear ever since the…

Grace follows after her in a daze, feet shuffling along after Stratt like a broken toy more than he’s actually consciously choosing to move. His ears are still ringing from the blast, his head spinning from the insanity of watching his nightmare come to life once more. There’s still smoke heavy in the air, coating the back of his throat. He takes a deep gulp of air. It doesn’t help.

“A mistake killed my science team!” Yáo shouts, visibly distressed. It’s not easy to hear even the second time around.

DuBois and Shapiro, oh god

Grace knows what’s coming next, can see it sharpening with every increasingly frantic phone call Stratt is making and the hard glances she shoots at him between dial tones. He remembers her words from earlier, how the leader of the Task Force can’t afford to look panicked.

He runs right after he leaves Stratt’s office, right after she breaks the news to him of what has to happen. His lungs burn and his legs ache with how fast he’s sprinting. It doesn’t matter. He digs his fingers into the earth beneath him and is ripped from it anyway.

[Loop 2]

Grace wakes with a start again. He looks around, sees his familiar room, and immediately dashes to the bathroom, nearly falling to the ground in a tangle of sheets in his haste. He’s sick on an empty stomach, tears streaming down his face as the vestiges of the dream(?) continue to cling to him.

It’s not a dream, god, it’s not-

Grace slumps agains the wall, head in his hands and body shaking. “No, no, no, no-“

It’s all real, painfully so, and Grace knows that if he goes through this day again it’s just going to end the same way. He’s not sure why exactly he’s woken up again on the exact same morning, but there has to be some kind of reason. God, it feels like his life has turned into a bad drama, like he’s in the middle of some sci-fi plot where he has to have some kind of grand revelation in order to advance the story, but Grace has no earthly idea what that could be.

Was it telling him he needed to find a way to escape his fate somehow? That he needs to find a way to avoid being sent to space? Well, the universe didn’t have to tell Grace twice!

Grace is staggering to his feet and heading for his closet, pulling his clothes on without a second thought for his haggard appearance or how his hair is still sticky with sweat. He probably looks like a nightmare, but he can’t be bothered to care.

Not when he can still taste ash in his mouth and dirt on his tongue

Grace high tails it out of the building before the sun is even up, a backpack full of only the most basic necessities slung over his shoulder. Unfortunately, the Task Force’s base is far from the rest of society, sequestered for obvious reasons involving international security and the precautions required for dealing with a material as volatile as astrophage.

Still, there are vehicles on the property.

That said, there are plenty of guards patrolling as well. Grace has almost no hope of getting his hands on a pair of car keys, not without anyone asking questions, and he similarly has a slim chance of making it over the fence on foot (his back still aches with the ghost of the knee that had been pressed against it, pinning him to the ground).

How the heck was he going to get out of here?!

Any vehicles that entered and left were thoroughly inspected, so there was no hope of him sneaking aboard any of them. He could request to leave for innocent reasons, but he’s sure he’d be accompanied by a guard wherever he went with no possibility of sneaking away. Heck, he’s probably already tripping alarms. He has no doubt his strange movements have been caught on camera, and someone was already reporting his out of character movements to Stratt.

Thoroughly stumped, Grace finds himself back in the middle of the roof full of satellite dishes, anxious to run but with nowhere to go. His bag hangs at his side, and then he drops it with a thump. He sits down on the ground, head in his hands in a mirror of his first time he’d retreated to this place.

You have three hours

“Ugh…” Grace can feel helpless tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. He swallows past the lump in his throat and stares up at the rocket in the distance. It looms larger than life over his head, imposing with the weight of its own inevitability.

You believe in God?

If there is a higher power out there somewhere that’s making him relive this horrible day for the third time to show him something or teach him a lesson, Grace is pretty sure he’s failing. He’s no closer to understanding what, if anything, he should be doing, and the thought of having to live this particular day over and over makes him want to just lie down, curl up into a ball, and give up.

He’s not sure how long he sits there, a few minutes or a few hours, but eventually the sun begins to crest the horizon and the sky lightens by increments until it turns a pale blue in color. Grace jolts as he hears footsteps approaching behind him.

“They told me you’d gone out here,” Stratt says. “You missed the morning meeting.”

Grace laughs, humorlessly. He was right about someone reporting his movements. “I just needed some fresh air.”

“With a - how you say - go-bag?” Stratt asks skeptically, eyes darting to the bag at Grace’s feet.

“Didn’t ‘go’ very far,” Grace says. He sighs. She still looks at him warily, confused. She clearly doesn’t understand why he’d run from this, from her, when she hasn’t yet…

“What happened?” Stratt asks, “Were you scared of something?”

“I just feel like something bad’s about to happen,” Grace says finally. “You ever get that feeling?”

“Sometimes,” Stratt says, “But if it does then I find a solution.”

Grace smiles, but it’s bitter. Yeah, she would definitely find a solution. She always found a solution.

You are my solution

“What if it’s not that easy?” Grace asks, “What if… what if there is no solution?”

Stratt tilts her head. “There is always a solution.”

“But what if-?”

“There is always a solution,” Stratt stresses. “Or else I make one.” Grace almost protests again, but then she adds, “I cannot allow myself to be hopeless.” Grace remembers then the words she’d said back on the ship all those months ago.

The alternative is to do nothing. And to kill each other. And to die.

Grace swallows. “I guess.”

“I e-mailed the handout to your phone,” Stratt says, “DuBois and Shapiro have simulation training later, and you are scheduled to speak with the team in charge of the feeding tubes.” She turns to leave.

“Wait!” Grace blurts. Stratt turns toward him. “You… you should tell the scientists to double check the measurements on the astrophage.”

Stratt’s eyebrows raise slightly. “Any reason?”

“I just… I think some of them might be getting complacent,” Grace says, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know, routine makes people sloppy.”

“True enough,” Stratt says, nodding. “I’ll make sure none of them are slacking. Get back to work, Dr. Grace.”

“Yeah, okay,” Grace says, but she’s already out of earshot. Grace sighs and looks up at the sky. The clouds are silvery gray, though there’s some darkness on the horizon.

It looks like rain.

“The samples were mislabeled,” Stratt snaps, “God, I should have checked them myself-“ She looks furious, fingers tightening around her phone. “It was a mistake.”

“A mistake killed my science team!” Yáo snaps.

An idea strikes Grace then. Escape isn’t an option, not this time around, but if the universe is kind enough to give him one more chance…

When Grace hits the ground this time, his mind races with what his next plan of action might be. He claws at the dirt and refuses to let go.

[Loop 3]

“I just think it’s best if I monitor your training this time,” Grace says, trying to keep his voice light as he smiles at DuBois and Shapiro. “You know, make sure it’s all going smoothly!”

“Do you not trust us?” Shapiro asks, though she sounds more amused than annoyed.

“We’ve nearly got it down, but it might be nice to have another pair of eyes to spot any mistakes,” DuBois agrees.

“Great! I’ll meet you all at the labs then!” Grace darts out of the room to change into his normal lab clothes before he meets DuBois and Shapiro at the stairs.

He feels like he’s practically vibrating in place, jittering with anticipation as they make their way down to the simulator. His heart is beating double-time watching DuBois and Shapiro go through the first steps of decontamination and calibrating all the instruments.

“I’ll go get the sample,” Shapiro announces, and Grace practically leaps out of his seat. He barely manages to restrain himself.

“Make sure you confirm the measurement!” He can’t help but say.

Shapiro blinks, then nods. “Of course.”

When she returns with a dish of the astrophage, Grace stares at the label. It says the right measurement on it, but he knows it’s mislabeled. He grips the edge of the table then says as mildly as he can, “You know, you should probably examine the sample first before you run it. Just to be sure.”

DuBois and Shapiro exchange befuddled looks over Grace’s head, but Shapiro dutifully goes to check the sample under a microscope. She inhales sharply after a few seconds.

“What?!” Grace blurts unable to help himself.

“It’s wrong,” she says, brow furrowed as she lifts her head.

DuBois double-takes. “Wrong?”

“Wrong,” she confirms, “This is- god, maybe a hundred times more astrophage than we need to test.”

“Shit,” DuBois mutters, eyes wide, “That’s enough astrophage to-!”

“Yeah,” Shapiro confirms, looking green. “We could have- oh god.” She rubs her forehead, before looking at Grace. “Good call.” She abruptly stands, “I need to talk with the team who labeled this.”

“I’ll go with you,” DuBois says. He pats Grace on the shoulder as he passes him. “You really saved our asses. Thank you.” He shakes his head. “They could’ve gotten someone killed!”

Grace nearly laughs at the enormous understatement. “Yeah, just… you know. Following procedure.”

The minute the two of them leave, Grace slumps against the worktable, pushing his glasses up to rub at his eyes. “Holy fudge.”

His heart is still going a mile a minute, thudding unsteadily against his ribcage, and his muscles tingle with residual adrenaline. The nausea has yet to fade completely from Grace’s stomach, but he’s pretty sure he can hunt down some Tums… as soon as he’s confident he can stand up without falling over.

“Okay. Okay. Everything- everything is fine,” Grace mutters.

When he lowers his hands and looks around, the scientists and staff in the lab are moving as normal, completely oblivious to the disaster that had very nearly occurred. It distantly occurs to Grace then that he hadn’t just saved DuBois and Shapiro’s lives, but everyone else’s in the building. The weight of such an action is enough to nearly knock him flat on his back.

Maybe this was what he’d been supposed to do?

He can only hope this will allow him to progress to the next day, if only because he doesn’t think his heart can take much more of this.

Grace is eating in the cafeteria that evening, still half dissociating at he picks at the unimpressive salisbury steak on his plate, when suddenly Stratt storms into the building in a whirl of her rain-soaked black trench coat. She doesn’t even bother to look up from where she’s angrily shouting into her phone, flanked by two security guards and- well, Carl at least nods at Grace though the other’s expression is tight and troubled. Stratt charges up the stairs to her office with single-minded determination, leaving Grace blinking after them.

His stomach drops out in the worst kind of way, and without thinking Grace is standing and dumping his nearly full plate before hurrying up the stairs after them. The guards at the door don’t try to stop him as he rushes into Stratt’s office.

“What happened?”

“The worst case scenario,” Stratt replies grimly, dropping her phone on her desk. Her lips are pressed together in a thin line, the same grave expression Grace recalls her having when she’d called him into a discussion both days prior. Grace’s blood runs cold.

Surely she can’t mean- but Grace had stopped-

Stratt seems incapable explaining, clearly working out a dozen different contingencies in her head, so Carl steps in. “DuBois and Shapiro were walking to the cafeteria together after their simulation training ended. The heavy rain outside caused one of the vehicles to skid while taking a turn, and it ended up hitting both of them.”

“W-what?” Grace asks.

“We think it was a freak accident, though they’re examining the vehicle for signs of foul play now,” Carl says, “Shapiro was killed on impact. DuBois is in critical in condition at the hospital, and it’s not looking good.”

“He won’t be anywhere near recovered in time for launch,” Stratt mutters, “There’s no way we can put him in a coma in his condition… If he even survives.”

“Oh god,” Grace breathes.

How was this even fair?! After all he’d done to avoid this outcome, how the heck did it still end up like this? Sure, it wasn’t the exact same circumstances, but it had the same result. Grace can almost see the exact moment the penny drops in Stratt’s head again, the moment she finally processes the enormity of what has just happened and what she’s going to have to do.

Grace doesn’t really have the heart to run very far that time.

[Loop 4]

Okay so, that wasn’t the solution.

Grace groans as he stares up at the blank ceiling once more. He clenches his hand into a fist and slams it against the mattress. It lets out a unsatisfying muffled thump as he does so. “I really thought I had it!”

Maybe he shouldn’t be too hard on himself. He still managed to keep the labs from exploding, and it was fully possible that DuBois would have survived the accident, but that still hadn’t changed what happened to him in the end. And geez, it felt like someone up there was cheating, like some higher power really didn’t want Grace to figure out what it was he was doing wrong.

Was it just his fate to get on that rocket? No, he refuses to accept that. There has to be some other way.

He gets out of bed and heads over to his desk, beginning to journal out everything that’d happened to him over the past few loops. He doubts he’ll really be able to take these notes with him if he ends up in another loop, but at this point he feels so frazzled he just needs to organize his thoughts.

Running clearly wasn’t the solution, that’s what he tried the first and second time and that had just ended with him tackled to the ground. He’s not sure if it’s really possible to save DuBois and Shapiro. He’s already tried to do so twice, and even when he managed to avoid the devastating explosion, they still ended up dead or critically injured. Were their deaths just some kind of… fixed event? Something that had to take place no matter what to keep the universe in balance or something?

Grace swallows hard around the lump in his throat. Sure, he was still getting a bad deal by being drafted on the Hail Mary against his will, but DuBois and Shapiro had gotten the short end of the stick by far. He tries to put the thought out of his mind. There wasn’t much he could do about freak accidents unless this time he wanted to try and stick to DuBois and Shapiro like glue to save them… which might just end up with him dead as well.

Okay, so what are the other options?

He’d already tried warning Stratt, but maybe he could try telling her about the time loop-

Grace crosses out the thought as soon as he writes it down. Stratt would probably think he was cracking under the pressure of the impending launch, having some kind of mental break from all the stress. She’d ship him off to the Task Force’s counselor in the infirmary for the rest of the day, and all that would accomplish would be putting him in the perfect place to be sedated later when the inevitable occurred.

And while Grace trusted Yáo to at least hear him out, the other would probably come to the exact same conclusion as Stratt and then end up telling her and having Grace put in the exact same position. He crosses the other’s name off the list as well. Carl was eliminated for the similar reasons, though he thinks the other would probably be nicer about it before he had Grace committed.

That just left…

“Ilyukhina, can I talk to you?” Grace asks, turning in his chair after Stratt’s morning presentation.

Ilyukhina looks up from her handout in surprise, but she quickly beams. “Sure, what’s up?”

“Uh, not here?” Grace asks.

“Ooh, mysterious,” Ilyukhina says. She sounds like she’s teasing, but he can tell from the glint in her eyes that she’s intrigued.

The two of them head down to the cafeteria to grab a coffee and snack before heading back to a fairly sequestered table in the corner of the room. There are a few staff and security members lingering around, but they all seem caught up in their own conversations or glued to their phones, so Grace deems it safe enough.

“Okay, so I’m going to say something that might sound crazy,” Grace begins.

“I like where this is going,” Ilyukhina says, grinning.

“I… do you believe in time travel?” Grace blurts. He nearly slaps himself after he does so. He’d been intending to bring up the topic casually before diving into his actual problem, but as usual his mouth had run in front of the rest of him.

Ilyukhina, bless her, only looked curious. “Well, I’d say that the science of such a thing isn’t exactly my field of study. I did try to build a time machine in elementary school though,” she laughs, “It was a big cardboard box that I drew all over in markers.”

Despite everything, Grace finds himself smiling as well. He can imagine it easily, a younger Ilyukhina with a gap-toothed smile scribbling all over a cardboard box declaring she was building a time machine to go back in time to fight dinosaurs or something.

“I mean, actual time travel though, more specifically time loops,” Grace says, sobering quickly. He winces internally at how crazy such a thing sounds, but Ilyukhina seems to still be interested.

“I haven’t seen anything about that outside of movies,” Ilyukhina says, “But it’d be cool if- hey, are you about to tell me you’re stuck in a time loop?” She says the words with good humor, looking ready to laugh, but then her expression becomes confused as Grace grimaces.

“Um.”

“Are you joking?” Ilyukhina asks, then perks up, “No wait, is this some kind of prank?” Her head whips around looking for a camera. When she doesn’t see one, her expression becomes confused again.

“It’s, uh, it’s not a prank,” Grace mutters, eyes dropping to stare at his own muddy reflection in his coffee. “I- I know it sounds insane, but-“

“Wait, really?!” When Grace looks up, Ilyukhina’s eyes are wide. “Like you are? Actually?”

“Well-“

“You’re looping today? How many loops have you done? Is it the full day? Wait, did we have this conversation before? What did I say? Did I tell you a code word or something?” Her smile is wide as she plants her hands on the table, leaning forward eagerly.

“Oh, uh-“ Grace balks, not having expected so much enthusiasm from her, “This is actually my first time trying to talk to anyone about it. I think this is my fourth time living this day.”

“Woah…” Ilyukhina sits back in her chair. It looks like she actually believes Grace despite how insane the concept is. “And your first choice of who to speak to was me?” She grins.

“Well, I thought you might be the most receptive,” Grace says. And clearly he was right based on Ilyukhina’s reaction.

“Mm, I doubt Stratt or Yáo would have listened if you’d told them,” Ilyukhina agrees, “Probably would have put you up in the infirmary.”

Grace grimaces. “That was my thought too.”

“Alright, so I guess the question is why you’re looping then,” Ilyukhina says. Then her expression turns more serious. “Does something happen today?”

Grace’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he speaks. “During simulation training DuBois and Shapiro are given the wrong amount of astrophage to study. It’s much more than they’re supposed to get for a sample. It’s-“ He swallows, eyes stinging as he recalls the heat of the flames and the smoke.

“Enough astrophage to blow up the whole lab,” Ilyukhina surmises. She lets out a low whistle. “Woah. That’s heavy.”

Grace lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, it’s been…a challenge.”

“So what have you tried so far?” Ilyukhina asks.

“I tried warning Stratt the second time around,” Grace says, “Then on the last loop I followed DuBois and Shapiro to training to catch the error.” When Ilyukhina nods encouragingly he continues, “It didn’t matter. There was a car accident instead.”

He doesn’t bother mentioning the fallout of the decisions. Grace reasons that Ilyukhina doesn’t need to know what happens if DuBois or Shapiro are killed or hospitalized. If they can manage to avoid the two of them getting hurt at all, the aftermath of that won’t matter.

“Oof,” Ilyukhina says sympathetically, “You tried your best.”

“Well, clearly my best wasn’t the solution,” Grace says unhappily.

“So you wanted to try and get some help this time,” Ilyukhina says.

“Yeah,” Grace confirms, “I’m sorry for getting you involved in-“

“Grace,” she cuts him off, reaching over the table to grab his shoulder, “This is the coolest thing anyone has ever asked me to be a part of.”

Grace snorts. “Even with the Hail Mary mission?”

“Okay, other than that,” Ilyukhina says, waving her other hand. She releases Grace’s shoulder. “Coming up with a plan though. Warning Stratt doesn’t work. Going to the labs to fix things doesn’t work. What else do you think you can try?”

“I’m not sure,” Grace says, tapping his fingers against his coffee cup. “Maybe I can… just stick with them? Even if that looks weird?”

“Stratt will ask questions if you do that,” Ilyukhina says, “And DuBois and Shapiro might take that in a way you didn’t intend. The wrong way.”

Grace blinks. “The wrong way? Oh shoot, do you think they’ll assume I don’t trust them?!” He remembers how skeptical Shapiro had been at first when Grace had tagged along in the last loop.

Ilyukhina stares at Grace blankly for a second. “You really don’t pick up on cues well, do you?”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. Let’s just try something else before that.”

“Uh, okay?”

Ilyukhina takes a sip of her coffee, brow furrowed. Grace waits for whatever she might propose with bated breath. “Let’s assume your goal isn’t to stop the astrophage incident, since clearly that didn’t work out before,” Ilyukhina says, “Would it help if DuBois and Shapiro weren’t in the labs?”

“Weren’t in the labs?”

Ilyukhina nods. “If they avoided the labs entirely today, maybe they could avoid some horrible fate that would result in them being there?”

Now that Grace thinks about it, DuBois and Shapiro had only been walking back late because they’d had to spend time later in the labs. Maybe if he can convince Stratt that the pair of them needed to work on something else that day instead of simulation training…

“Ilyukhina, you’re a genius,” Grace says.

“I know,” Ilyukhina says smugly.

He stands and drains his coffee. “See you tomorrow, hopefully!”

“See you tomorrow!” Ilyukhina says cheerfully, waving Grace off. “And if you make a sci-fi novel out of this, I expect credit!”

Grace dumps his empty cup in the trash can before hurrying up the stairs to Stratt’s office. He’s not completely sure if this will work, but at this point he has to try anything he can.

Somehow it’s even worse, like whatever higher power has trapped him in this loop is punishing him even more violently for trying to find a way around it. Instead of the astrophage explosion it’s another car accident. Only this time, Ilyukhina is with them. Grace doesn’t know if she’d taken it upon herself to try and monitor them to help Grace out, or if there had been some other reason why she’d been speaking with them, but either way she’d been standing right next to DuBois and Shapiro when the car had plowed off the road and crashed into the building. It’d taken down half the wall in the process, and Grace had only been able to stand by, completely frozen, as it had all collapsed in front of him.

And then he’s moving, running toward the rubble before he’s even sure it’s safe, digging through rock and concrete with his heart in his throat and shaking hands. Rain floods through the gaping hole in the wall, making everything even slipperier and more difficult to get a grip on. He’s not strong enough to lift all of the pieces, but adrenaline drives him on until he uncovers Ilyukhina’s limp hand under the broken rocks and glass. Blood tracks down her fingertips in rivulets, quickly washed away by the incoming storm.

“Oh god,” Grace exhales. The world blurs around him, though he’s not sure if it’s from rain, shock, or tears.

“Stay back, it’s not safe!”

Grace is hauled back by security as emergency workers rush in. Someone must have called them while Grace had been frantically digging through the wreckage. Grace doesn’t even have the presence of mind to shove them off, eyes locked on Ilyukhina’s far too still hand. Was she really-? He’d just talked to her a few hours ago. She couldn’t possibly be…?

My fault, god, it’s all my fault-

And then Grace is tearing out of the guards’ grips, sprinting for the nearest trash can to be sick in. He thinks he hears someone screaming or crying, or maybe it’s just him trying to think around the cacophony echoing inside his own skull. God, he’s screwed this up worse than he ever has before, bad enough that he’s gotten not just DuBois and Shapiro, but also Ilyukhina killed.

“I’m sorry,” Grace sobs, slumping against the wall, clutching his head in his hands. Lights flash in front of him, and Grace’s breath catches as he sees an indistinct figure lifted limply onto a gurney. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-“

“There’s no way we can launch,” Yáo says later at the table. His eyes are bloodshot, and he looks like he’s aged ten years in the span of one day. “My science team and my mechanic are-“

“We still have Ilyukhina’s backup,” Stratt says, though the words sound hollow. “We can still…” She glances at Grace.

Grace knows what’s coming. “I’m not an astronaut.” He says weakly. “I’m not-“ Ilyukhina’s bloody hand flashes in his mind. “I- I’ll just screw everything up. I can’t do it.”

“Dr. Grace-“

“No!” Grace snaps, all the rage and frustration that’s been building for the past few days - if they could be called that - exploding out of him. “I’m not cut out for this! I don’t want to die! I don’t want-! God, Ilyukhina is dead because of me!”

“Her death wasn’t your-“

“It was!” Grace shouts, “It was because I just- because I was so scared-!” He knows he’s ranting about things that won’t make sense to anyone else at this table, but he can’t keep the words inside. “If I’d just left things alone she’d at least be alive!”

“Grace-“

“I can’t do it!” Grace stands, nearly knocking his chair over in the process, “You- just find someone else to die for you!”

He runs then, pursued by guards and guilt and the ghost of Ilyukhina’s laughter.

[Loop 5]

Grace chokes on a sob as he wakes, coughing as he jerks upright. Tears slip down his cheeks, and his chest heaves with huge gasping breaths. Blindly, he grabs for his phone, pulling up a chat and typing out a message.

Grace

Are you awake

His phone screen blurs before him with how hard he’s concentrating on it. He tries to wipe his eyes on his shirt, but he can’t get the tears to stop flowing until he sees the three dots pop up, indicating the recipient is typing. Relief crashes through him like a tidal wave.

Ilyukhina

It’s 5 in the morning what the fuck

Grace finally exhales, feeling lightheaded. He types out some half-assed apology and excuse that he hadn’t been able to sleep. Ilyukhina calls him something in Russian that he resolves to look up later, and Grace lets the phone fall to the mattress.

“Thank god,” he mutters, clutching at his tear-stained shirt.

He’s not sure how long he sits there, but it’s long enough that his head is starting to ache from crying so much, and his eyes feel horrible and gritty. He staggers to his feet and then the bathroom to wash up. It doesn’t fully help him feel better, but he looks a little more human once he’s showered and changed.

When he makes it to the meeting room he opens the door to see Stratt is already inside. He nods at her, stomach in knots as he sits down and waits. At five minutes till the meeting begins, the door swings open again and Grace nearly collapses as Ilyukhina swans into the room with Yáo and DuBois.

It sounds awful to say even in the privacy of his own head, but he’d expected DuBois and Shapiro’s deaths. While he still mourned them, of course, after four loops he’d come to accept that their deaths were some kind of constant that he seemed powerless to stop. Ilyukhina’s death though… Grace wasn’t sure he could keep looking at himself in the mirror with that kind of weight on his conscience. He’s quiet throughout the meeting, and Ilyukhina shoots him a couple of concerned looks, but Grace just smiles and waves her off.

“Got a lot on my mind,” he tells her after the meeting. “Just… a lot of moving parts.”

Ilyukhina nods in understanding. “Yeah, I get that. You can talk to me anytime if it gets too much though!”

Grace smiles tightly. “Thanks. I’ll… do that.” The lie tastes sour on his tongue.

He doesn’t try to intervene in DuBois and Shapiro’s training this time, instead plotting out what he’s going to do in the aftermath. He knows Stratt will call him in to break the news, first with a group of other scientist and Yáo and Ilyukhina, then later in her office. He has potentially a three hour window to either run or find a way out of being sent on the Hail Mary.

Running already seems like a lost cause. No matter where Grace tries to run or hide, there’s no way he’ll have enough of a head start to get away from the security guards. The only way out of it, then, is trying to come up with some kind of alternative to him going on the mission himself. Unfortunately, that’s easier said than done.

Even though he hates the reasoning, he can see why Stratt’s hands are tied. DuBois and Shapiro are the only scientists out of the initial pool of candidates who were sufficiently trained up in time for the launch window. Aside from Grace, there’s no one else trained enough in studying astrophage who also possesses the right coma gene to (hopefully) survive the trip to Tau Ceti.

“Shoot,” Grace mutters, glaring down at his lunch like his dilemma is its fault.

He doesn’t want to go on the mission, doesn’t want to die, but any alternate solutions aren’t presenting themselves. Grace is violently reminded of his first go round on this particular path, sitting out on the roof in the pouring rain amidst all the satellite dishes, head muddled with the impossibility of the decision in front of him.

He wonders if this is how Stratt felt

He pushes away his half-eaten sandwich, no longer hungry. It feels too much like he is prey, that he’s staring down the golden eyes of a wolf that’s just waiting for the opportunity to leap forward and snap its jaws around his neck. There has to be something he can say that would convince her, something he could do-

Grace stands and heads toward the labs.

“I’m not a good pick,” Grace says, “I’m not- I don’t know how to survive on a spaceship. I can analyze astrophage, but I’ve never done any zero-gravity training or done a spacewalk or- or-“

Stratt exhales slowly. “You are the only option.”

And in that moment Grace can see all the things he was too distracted to pick up on the first time they’d had this conversation. Stratt doesn’t have many tells, can’t afford to in her position, but Grace can see it now. He can see it in the purse of her lips, the way she digs her nails into her hands to keep from reaching out, the calm, calculated poise of her demeanor as if she’s holding herself in check before anyone else.

She doesn’t want to do this

Grace knows that she’s run the same numbers he has, has exhausted every alternate route possible before coming to this conclusion. He knows, in that moment, that she’s just as desperate for an alternative, that she doesn’t want Grace’s blood on her hands any more than he does. But Stratt is stronger than Grace in many ways as well, strong enough that she can make the decisions that Grace can’t.

You are my solution

He lets out a long breath. “Can you put me in the coma early so I don’t have to be conscious for takeoff?” Grace can practically see Stratt exhale, shoulders slumping the barest fraction at his words.

“Thank you.” Her eyes shine with a million unspoken emotions, gratitude and an apology all rolled into one. “I can do that.”

He can tell this is the barest form of comfort she can take from him, the idea that he walked to his own execution willingly instead of kicking and clawing like a beast with its leg caught in a trap. She can truthfully say he volunteered, can believe that the blood on her hands doesn’t stick quite as much.

“Do you need any assistance or extra time making final preparations?” She asks, and Grace almost laughs at the irony.

“No, I… I think I just want to get it over with as soon as possible,” Grace says.

Stratt nods. “Understandable. I’ll have the doctor sent to your room later this evening.”

Grace knows she’ll keep him under watch until then, just to make sure he doesn’t go back on his word. Part of him is tempted to run still, but he knows she’ll be anticipating it as much as she hopes it doesn’t happen. Grace stands then, looking down at Stratt. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, not knowing what to say. She waits patiently.

“I don’t want to die,” Grace says finally.

“I know,” Stratt says.

‘I don’t want you to die either,’ hangs heavy and unspoken between them.

Grace looks at her, really looks at her, and thinks this might be the last time he ever sees her. Her face is drawn, carefully closed off from revealing too much emotion.

Can you imagine what would happen if I walked around here looking panicked?

He wonders if she ever allows herself to break down like he does, if she ever allows tears to fall in the privacy of her room with all the blinds drawn. Does Stratt ever have panic attacks in the bathroom? Does she scroll on her phone into the early hours of the morning reading increasingly depressing articles about how doomed the Earth is? Does she ever stare at the world around her and wonder if it will still be there thirty years from now?

“I’m not brave,” Grace says.

“I know,” Stratt repeats, though not unkindly.

“I… I don’t want Earth to die. Really, I don’t, but…”

“Grace, I know,” Stratt says.

A long moment of silence passes between them, a beat of mutual understanding. It’s not quite an apology from Stratt, and not quite forgiveness from Grace, but in that moment they can both see where the other sits and how they won’t be moved from it.

Grace nods slowly. “I’ll see you, Eva.”

She smiles at him, barely more than an upturn of her lips, but he can see that she’s trying. “Good night, Dr. Grace.”

That night when the doctor comes to his room, Grace doesn’t try to run. He keeps his gaze locked on the rainbow outside the window, arcing over the yellow fields of grass. He lets out a shaky breath as the doctor disinfects his arm with a cotton swab.

“You know who you are,” Carl says, making Grace glance over his shoulder. The other gives him a firm nod from where he stands in the doorway. It feels less like a door slamming in his face this time when Grace hears it. “You’re gonna do great.”

“If you say it like that, I might actually believe it,” Grace half-laughs.

“You should,” Carl says.

Grace watches the needle as it lowers toward his inner elbow. He tries not to tense up. The prick of the needle is sharp, but brief. The plunger is depressed and the needle removed in less than a minute. Grace feels strangely at peace in a way that has nothing to do with the drugs slowly flooding his system.

He lies back on the bed, trying to get comfortable as the now-familiar fuzziness starts to tug on the edges of his vision. He can already feel his limbs starting to go numb. He twitches his fingers one last time while he still can.

“Hey, Carl?” He slurs. It feels like his mouth is full of cotton.

“Yeah?” Carl replies.

“Can you stay with me until I’m gone?” Grace doesn’t know if he’s asking for the other to remain until he’s unconscious or until he’s finally loaded on the Hail Mary, but Carl nods again.

“Don’t worry. I’ll watch you sleep,” Carl says.

Grace grins, eyes slipping closed. “Thanks.”

[Loop 6]

Grace is… strangely unsurprised to wake up again. Apparently that wasn’t the solution to whatever this time loop was supposed to be doing, but oddly enough he’s not disappointed. When he stands, he feels refreshed in some ways, like he’d finally had a chance to let out everything he’d been bottling up and was now empty but lighter.

He goes to the meeting and still warns Stratt about the measurements though he already knows it won’t do anything to change the outcome. He double checks his calculations on the feeding tubes and eats lunch with Ilyukhina in the cafeteria. He meets up with Yáo after to help the other look over the flight path. He speaks with some of the scientists about the nutrient level of the coma slurry and how much excess they should pack.

He gets two coffees from the cafeteria and heads out to the fields where he knows Stratt is waiting, watching the finishing checks on the Hail Mary.

There’s light and heat and smoke

“You have three hours,” Stratt says.

Grace nods, standing from the table and walking out of her office. He knows how this is going to end, how it was always going to end, and for once he accepts the fear that’s been his constant companion ever since he’d first heard about the impossible red line connecting the sun to Venus. The silhouette of the ship hangs over his head. He can still feel dirt under his fingernails and heavy on his tongue.

I don’t want to die

“I’m going to run,” Grace tells the Hail Mary. His voice doesn’t shake. “I’m going to run as far as I can, as fast as I can, and I’m going to hang onto the Earth until they pull me away from it. I’m going to look at the sky until I can’t anymore.” He swallows. “And then I’m going to live. I’m going to fight like hell with everything I’ve got, and I’m going to live.”

There’s no response, of course, but Grace keeps his chin high as he heads back to Stratt’s office.

Later when he’s pressed against the dirt, inhaling the scent of a world he’s going to be leaving so far behind, Grace can’t find it in himself to be too scared. He looks up to see the rainbow hanging over his head, colors smearing together in a faded streak.

Grace stares up at it, burning it into his memory until his eyes slip closed.

‘I’ll stay alive, I promise’

[???]

Grace’s eyes shoot open, and he inhales raggedly.

“Eye movement detected. What is 2 + 2?”