Chapter Text
The first thing I noticed was wrong was the lighting.
Normally when I wake up see, there’s this perfectly warm simulated beam of sunlight that hits just right through my windowpane, a design which I have to assume is intentional (like most everything is in the biodome).
I remember talking to Rocky about it on the way to Erid, having one of those dozens if not hundreds of conversations about things we missed, and things we loved about our home planets. He promised to build me sunrises when we got there, and yeah I wont hesitate to admit I cried like a little baby when I saw it.
Right, so, to get back on track, that beam was missing.
Opening my eyes showed me many things were missing, actually. There was this moment of deep-seated wrongness, like missing a step on the stairs but not quite hitting the ground yet. Suspended in that specific flavor of unsettled.
For starters my ceiling was flat and dark. It should be angular, like most of the Eridian designed roofs around here.
I slowly move to sit up and stiffen at the ease in which I do. Okay. Item number two on the rapidly growing things-that-are-wrong list, gravity feels weird.
Hm.
Ok.
Not panicking. Nope. Why would I panic? Panicking would be an unproductive activity and not help whatsoever, so clearly, I’m not panicking.
I’m panicking.
My hands throw off the suspiciously familiar duvet as I swing my legs onto the ground with ease in the dark room, clenching tightly at the fabric. I move to stand up.
Maybe I’m in the Hail Mary? Right? This room is square, the Hail Mary can be square, it’s just too dark to tell. Light, right, silly humans needing light to see, inefficient as Rocky would say. I clear my throat.
“Uh, um. Mary? Lights please?” I stutter out into the dark
A moment passes, and another, not even a chime resounds in the quickly shrinking room.
Wait shrinking? Oh god. I look around and the queasiness from before triples, the room sways, the air smells unfamiliarly familiar, like cloth and detergent and earth. Things I haven’t smelled in years.
I crouch as I register the feeling of carpet underneath my feet. Not the delicate scruffy rug Adrian helped make with me, but the nauseatingly familiar shag of carpet under my hands and feet. Denial starts building in my mind as my breath audibly quickens.
“Rocky? Buddy, are you there?” I cry out.
Rocky is never too far, his house is connected to the biodome labs, and even if he’s gone Adrian or the science team is usually there to monitor me. Normally I would complain about the lack of privacy but right now I strain my poor pathetic human hearing for any musical chittering to prove I’m not alone.
But no one comes
“Rocky?! Adrian, Dr.Metcalf? Anyone!?” I say louder this time. I begin to push myself to my feet in the unfamiliar space and shuffle blindly forward, this proves to be a bad idea as I immediately stub my toe into some hard, what I can only assume to be, furniture.
“OW—JESimmyy Christmas!!” I yelp out, hopping forward and leaning against a nearby wall. The moment my arm makes contact however, light floods into the room. Evidently, I have found a light switch. Item number 4; why are there light switches?!
The moment I look around the room the throbbing pain of my foot flees from my mind. There in front of me, to my disbelief, Is a bedroom. No wait, not just any bedroom. MY bedroom. From San Fransico. Holy Shit.
“…What…” I mutter to no one in particular. But it’s all I can muster to think. My glasses are on the same bedside table. A poster for the musical Cats above the desk. A dying wilted plant on the sill, basket of laundry. Shirts and pants that I had lost to time. I feel like I’ve woken up straight into a memory.
Oh!
That must be it! I’m dreaming! Of course, that’s the only logical explanation. I mean, I’ve never really lucid dreamed like this quite before but hey, first time for everything right? I ignore the faint throbbing of my foot, who knows maybe you CAN simulate pain in a dream. I mean. The alternative would be ridiculous…. Right?
..
….
……No, I’m not even entertaining that. I take a step around the now bright room, and instinctively put on my glasses, the clarity only helps confirm my previous suspicions.
“Hmm yep... Thatsssss my room alright” I mutter under my breath.
I take a moment to run my hands along the bedside table, the now exotic feeling of wood grain trembles under my fingertips. It feels so heavy, so real. Do lucid dreams really come in this much detail? Maybe this is a hallucination?
Maybe I’m dying, I think with a start,
Maybe I’m dying and this is my life flashing before my eyes.
I feel my heart rate quicken at this thought, No. Nope. No way, I couldn’t be dying and leave Rocky like that. I ripped my hand away from the wooden top as if it burned me.
“Alright Grace, don’t panic. We need to, uh.. We need to science this out!” I picture rocky standing next to me, its grounds me and grants me some courage. “Yeah, alright bud we got this.”
“Ok Rock, let’s do this!” I quickly stride over to my desk and grab a small cyan sharpie, look like I’m getting some semi-temporary tattoos.
I write as I speak out loud, pretending I have an audience.
“Hypothesis numero uno: I am currently dreaming. Supporting evidence? Lucid dreams exist! Counter points: There seems to be a wee bit too much continuity and lucidity, but who knows I’m not a sleep pathologist… hm. Side note, when I wake up ask for help with Eridian sleep pathologist. Theres gotta be at least one out there by now.”
I take a seat at the desk chair, taking a small moment to revel in the feeling. When you only have a dozen or so places to properly sit down for years a new chair can be genuinely exciting.
“Hypothesis two! I am hallucinating. Similar points to consider for point number one, but hopefully not this one. Would imply potential health risk. Maybe I’m experiencing a gas leak in the biodome? Hrm.”
That one concerns me, I imagine rocky shaking his fist at me for doubting the airtight quality of the biodome.
“Probably not, Rocky was and still is super gung-ho about the biodomes safety. Smartest guy I know.”
That leaves option number three, which I also don’t love.
“Hypothesis three, I’m dying.” I pause and look around. The room stays quiet and stagnant; I look around again.
“Counter point, I’m not seeing the rest of my life, just my bedroom. And while I didn’t exactly party every day, I certainly didn’t live as a shut in.”
As I note the counter argument on the bottom of my inner arm, I feel a little reassured by the evidence. I REALLY don’t want to up and keel over 3 years into my stay on Erid. If not for my sake, for Rockys. I hope to live as long as I can for him.
I sigh.
“Hypothesis number four…” I trail off, noticing light peaking through the drawn blinds next to me.
Like a marionette my hands move before I can finish. With a few simple twists the blinds unfold, shining the brilliant blue beginning of dawn into my room. The sun begins to peak brightly on the horizon.
“I’m back on Earth.”
I stare, the marker previously held poised up to my own skin forgotten. It’s Earth.
The view objectively isn’t much. I see a neighboring complex of town houses across the street, a couple of younger trees scattered by the road. A shell gas station at the end of the block glows red and yellow in the early morning glow.
The sky is almost dreary, but it seems to go on forever. I barely notice the tears begin to escape my eyes as my mouth trembles agape.
Rocky from my imagination calls me leaky.
“I don’t understand” I whisper to myself, hands clenching at the windowsill. I wipe my cheeks, but the tears come too fast to stop.
“I don’t understand what’s going on” I sob out “I-Is this real?” the cries grow louder as I collapse my face into my palms.
The smell of distant salt in the air, the way the trees gently sway, the feeling of sweatpants and fuzzy socks on my skin, it’s all so real. I sob harder.
This is real, I think. I don’t know how, or why, or frankly even what. But it’s real. It has to be.
A shaky smile grows on my face. “Hello earth.” I whisper hoarsely
“I’m home”
But before I can even begin to bask in that concept alone, a horrifying thought strikes me. Home. Erid. Rocky.
“Oh God-“ The soaring hope that built in my chest crashes down. The emotional swing leaves me feeling unsteady on my feet, I grasp harder at the windowsill, this time to keep my balance.
Rocky.
Rocky Rocky Rocky Rocky.
I suddenly turn and lunge for my phone, plugged in on my bedstand, and power it on.
April 22nd, 2022. 5:43 AM. The day the Petrova Line samples splash down.
The day before I met Eva Stratt.
Her name makes my heart clench, out of fear? Regret? Hope? I wouldn’t know. I push it to the side. Rocky is all alone. He’s up there right now, waiting.
I run out my bedroom door; I don’t even pause to gawk at the sight of my old apartment. I throw on a pair of slides and shove on my yellow raincoat, my phone slides into the side pocket as I take out the door.
I don’t know where I’m going, But I make my way down the street.
‘Rocky rocky rocky rocky rocky rocky rocky rocky oh god Rocky-“ I chant like a prayer as my jog turns into a run.
I turn the corner, and stumble on the curb, I get sent careening down towards the harsh pavement, hands skinning themselves as they crutch my fall.
I stay still for a moment, then another. The quiet distant thrum of cars and streetlight buzz fill my senses. The sharp pain from my palms radiates both burning hot and freezing cold.
I begin to pull myself up into a sitting position, but don’t bother to stand.
Rocky is all alone in space on the Blip-A. He’s still surrounded by the corpses of his friends and crewmates. He doesn’t know Erid will be saved, Erid is still dying. Earth is still dying.
A thickness builds in my throat, my vision blurs as I hold my palms to my chest, the pain the only tether keeping me grounded, stopping me from flying all the way to Tau Ceti.
I begin to weep.
Heavy sobs burst from my chest, loud and wailing. Snot leaks from my nose, leaky leaky leaky. My best friend, song of my soul, is 11.9 light years away from me, the furthest I’ve been from him in almost 8 years.
I’m back on Earth, and I’m all alone.
I dig my fingers into a fist, the pain sharp, but it does nothing to dull the heartache that threatens to rip me in two. I need to get back; I need to save Rocky. Oh god, will he even remember me? What do I do if he doesn’t. It hurts, it hurts it hurtsithurtsithurts so bad oh god my chest—
“Are you okay?”
I choke off one of my sobs
That’s.
A human. A human voice speaking to me in real time. Not from a movie or translation software. The vibrato deep and real.
I turn my head, there’s a dark-skinned man standing next to me, wearing a brown coat and a paperboy hat, his hand extended towards me and a look of concern on his face.
I remember he asked a question with a jump, my voice scratchy from the tears croaks out
“Um. I-I’m sorry I don’t. I didn’t mean to.” But before I can finish my throat closes, thick with phlegm. I try to cough miserably.
The man takes a second before kneeling down next to me on the sidewalk, a small groan escapes him as he does, and without much thought his hand lands on my shoulder. I freeze at the gentle pressure through my coat and begin to tremble.
“I don’t know what’s going on, but you look like you need a hug son.” He speaks softly,
And before I can even prepare myself he closes in.
It’s.
It’s too much to describe, for one blindingly hot moment the world whites out, I feel his arms wrap around me somewhat awkwardly, thick coat limiting his arm movement. The weight of his palms against my back, the pressure and warmth of another human, arms linked in arms.
I keen like a wounded animal.
“There there kid, its alrigh’ “ The man mutters next to me, his hands almost lazily running circles on my back. Over and over again each rotation like a hole being carved deeper and deeper straight into my chest, squeezing my soul.
I try to reason with the coherent side of my brain, recognizing this moment as mortifying, but that side of my brain is promptly told to shut the frick up as I melt into this stranger’s warmth.
“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so sorry please I’m so sorry” I find myself crying out pathetically, the man to his credit doesn’t flinch and just hums in response, arms still methodically tracing their pattern.
It takes a few minutes for my sanity to finally catch up from where I left it in my apartment. I begin to pull away from the man, with an effort I would compare to a herculean task, and wipe my face, too thoroughly exhausted to feel the embarrassment right away. I’ll shelve that for later to dissect and toil over.
“I uh-“ I wipe my nose, my voice wet still “I’m really sorry about that, um. And for crying all over your coat. Oh geez” I’m really out of practice speaking to other humans, not that I was ever the best at that to begin with.
The man leaves one hand on my shoulder and waves the other Infront of him, as if to wave away the worries.
“Now don’t you worry nothin’ about that son. I aint judging you.” He takes a moment to look at me, as if examining me to see if I’m actually doing better or about to combust again (I feel closer to the latter, but I would like to think I’m better at hiding than most would expect)
He lets out a short hum, before seeming to make up his mind on something.
“Let me get you some coffee, it’s a bit early and its no good to be sitting in the chilly air like this.” The man gruffs out, sniffling a bit from the cold I presume.
Immediately guilt floods me, the man looks to be somewhere in his 60’s and here I was, perfectly healthy and 31 again. Jesus Chrisler I’m 31 again. Didn’t I just turn 42? I hadn’t even begun to consider the time travel implications, but have I really turned back time a whole decade?
I nod my head without thinking, then backtrack “Wait no I mean- I’m fine oh jeez I’m sorry I kept you out here uh-“ I stand up abruptly wiping my hands on my knees and hissing once I remember the open wound “ouch.. um. Its fine I live just down the block sir..”
I look at him, look at him proper in the eyes. Oh man, it’s been a while since I’ve been looked at, let alone made eye contact. I swiftly looked away, overwhelmed. “Um. Thank you. For that I mean, that must have been awfully strange, but I appreciate it.”
He lets out a breathy chuckle, his voice deep and raspy, like someone who’s smoked a pack a day for 40 years. A southern drawl breaking through, unique for this side of the west coast. “ha, Ive seen worse. You look around my Son’s age so I hope you don’t mind this old man’s meddling.”
He takes a second before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small card, offering it in my direction.
“Here, Like I said I don’t know what’s going on, but I know grief when I see it. Don’t hesitate to call kid.”
With shaky hands I reach for the small card, its white with a small cartoonish drawing of a mechanic on the corner
‘Darius Murphy’ ‘Local mechanic – Murphys Motor’s – 415 XXX XXXX’
I stare at the card, then slowly slip it into my own pocket, looking back at the man, Murphy.
“Thanks..” I croak out and pretend I don’t feel a fresh set of tears welling up.
He gives me a solid nod, then gestures to my palms “And make sure you clean those good”
I look down, almost shocked. I forgot all about that during well, all of that. I nod absent mindedly “Sure.”
We both stand on the corner for a moment; I see him open his mouth as if to say something more before a trilling alarm startles both of us. I whip my head wildly, old instincts rear their head. Alarms never mean anything good in deep space after all, Before I recognize the sound coming from my own pocket.
I reach in and grasp my phone, an alarm blares on labelled ‘Wake Up- School’ with the time 6.00 am.
“Oh Crud!” I gasp out loud “I have to go to work!” I shoot a glance at Murphy
“I uh, Thanks again!” I shout, already turned back to him as I jog back in the direction of my apartment.
Okay. Okay. I have about 3 hours to pull myself together. Classes start around 9:30 but I need 30 minutes to bike my old- er, usual route. That’s 3 hours to come up with a plan to convince Stratt to make me primary Science Officer despite no astronautical experience, save as many people as possible, make sure no one thinks I’ve gone insane and remember lesson plans for my kids.
Oh
I’m going to see my kids again.
I stop outside my door, hands on the handle. Geez, you really think I’d be out of tears at this point. My eyes sting as I wipe them harshly.
Okay. I can do this.
I’m coming Rocky, don’t worry bud.
But first priorities? I have a breakfast burrito that’s been calling my name for 11 years in the freezer.