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Simon’s eyes snap open. The single movement sends burning through his skull, but he keeps his eyes open. Every part of him is lit up in pain, and he’s too weak to even struggle.
When his eyes finally focus, he beholds an Angel. It must be an Angel. Simon has never seen someone more beautiful. He has never seen a kinder look in someone’s eye. The Angel’s head is surrounded by a shroud of gold hair, like a halo. The Angel looks down at him with such worry and care, such sweetness. It must be saying something, but whatever it is, Simon only hears ringing. Maybe that’s the sound of the Angel’s voice?
Soft, kind hands wipe away the blood still staining his face. Panic shoots through him for a moment, worried the Angel will cast him away for staining its hands. Then he remembers the stories of Angels. Holy warriors, messengers of God, stewards of the dead.
Oh, of course. Whatever is happening here, it’s the end. Simon’s time is over and the Angel has come to take him away. Angels of death are often described as beautiful, to sooth the tormented souls of the living. But this Angel could have the face of a monster and he would welcome it. After everything that’s happened, everything he’s done, he deserves to have his life snuffed out by a devil. Instead this Angel is kind enough to take his soul, when it knows he doesn’t deserve it.
Hands brush through his hair, soothing him further. He expects after this, the Angel will cast him down to hell anyways. He’s done terrible things. He had wanted so badly to live, to survive his execution, but if death comes with a view like this, Simon can recover.
How long does death take after an Angel arrives? He’s not in any particular rush to separate from the Angel, or go to hell, but he knows it must be busy. It can’t waste its time on a monster like Simon. How did the stories go?
Angels of death, arriving to take away souls to their final resting place. Banishing them to hell, or returning them to the grove. But, there was another part, there was… oh. Yes, Simon always forgot that part.
He’s weak, and bloody, and so tired. So when he pulls the Angel down to kiss it, it’s messier than it should have been. Either way, Simon allows the Angel to pull his soul out of his body. When he falls back he sees the Angel looks suprised. Was he supposed to wait for it to kiss him? Has he messed the whole thing up? Blood is staining the Angel’s lips, smeared on his chin.
Growing horror spreads on the Angel’s face and Simon feels his sight going wobbly and black. He’s so terrible even an Angel is disgusted by him? It’s deserved, but it still hurts.
Grace walks the beach every day. Even when he’s sick, even when he’s tired, even when he has class to teach. He always walks the beach. He makes sure he has some time next to the waves at least once a day, letting him clear his mind and take time for himself. One might think that after so long alone, Grace would be done with solitude. And he is! But sometimes, there’s just an urge in his body to be alone, to let himself be separate from everyone else and take time for himself.
It’s after class, but before dinner, and Grace is walking along the shore. There are lots of things that he misses about Earth’s beach. But, the water here is always the perfect temperature, and there’s no seaweed, or fish smell. He misses shells, and minos and even annoying seagulls. There are plenty of advantages to having your own biosphere.
No smell is probably his favorite part. The smell of the beach used to make him nauseous, so he never went much. Now, there’s no smell at all. Or rather, there should be no smell. But there is. The heavy, thick, dark smell of iron. Blood.
Grace has no idea where the smell is coming from, no clue how that smell could be permeating his senses. The only person on the planet with blood is him! And as far as he knows, he’s not bleeding. And certainly not enough to produce such a strong smell.
He continues to walk forward, the smell slowly getting stronger until he sees where it’s coming from and breaks into a sprint. That’s a body! That’s a human body! It must be. There’s nothing else it could be! As he gets closer, the smell gets stronger and Grace gets more certain it’s a human. He sees a head, long hair, human clothes, legs, arms, um, scratch that, arm. The body is still half submerged in the waves, the water gently lapping against him. He’s covered in blood from head to toe, the waves not even beginning to wash off the dense curtain of blood.
Grace lands at the person’s side and drags them out of the water, laying them down on the sand with their head in his lap. The person looks like a man, with dark hair underneath all the blood. Grace can’t ascertain anything else because of the blood. But the most important thing is that the man is breathing.
“Hey, hey, wake up!” Grace shouts, patting their face, trying to get them to wake up. If this blood is theirs he needs to know where the wound is. There might still be a chance, but he has to find the wound that made this much blood and quick. “Come on, man, you have to wake up, please!”
Somehow, his begging is heard, because the eyes of this man peel back, revealing deep red eyes, the colour of the blood covering him. His eyes are hazy at first, clearly unfocused. “Hey, hi, you’re gonna be alright! Um, is this blood… yours?” He wipes some of the tacky blood clinging to his face away as best he can.
Gosh, I’m so bad at this. He’s gonna die because I’m too socially awkward to ask good questions.
He doesn’t appear to register whatever Grace is saying. His eyes are focused enough to see Grace, but it doesn’t seem like he understands. Oh, shoot, does he not speak english? “Do you speak English? Can you understand me? Please, say you can understand me.” He needs to get him inside, but he’s frozen, unable to think straight. Armando can fix him. But first Grace has to get off his butt and get him to Armando! Instead of doing that, Grace finds his hand in the man’s hair, trying to soothe whatever pain he’s feeling.
Grace is trying to think of the best way to get him inside when he hand grips his shirt and pulls him down. He’s not sure what is happening for a moment, only that surprisingly soft lips are against his, firm and quick the kiss comes. He can taste blood, it invades every sense now. As quickly as the kiss comes, it disappears, the man releasing Grace’s shirt. He looks up at Grace and the scientist cannot discern the expression on his face. He can feel blood in his mouth, on his lips, staining his chin.
The man’s face takes on an odd expression of sorrow and regret when he makes eye contact with Grace, falling unconscious right after.
Well, fudge.
The stranger lies in Grace’s bed, peacefully sleeping. He had been able to get him to his house and set up with Armando after a lot of struggling. Then he called Rocky in a panic. The science team in charge of the dome came immediately. The team searched every inch of the dome, but haven’t found a single clue as to how this human came to be on Erid, and in Grace’s dome. Grace is just glad that however it happened, he ended up in the dome and not on the planet's surface without any protection.
Currently, his guest is asleep, with his wounds wrapped and disinfected. The blood ended up not actually being his. Even with the loss of his arm and the various small wounds on him, there’s no way he could have produced that much blood. Testing the viscous liquid revealed that it’s not from one person, but instead dozens of different humans.
The science team and Grace are at a loss for what to do. So many questions need to be answered, and they need the man awake for that. Rocky and Adrian are over almost every single day to watch him while he sleeps. Grace tried to tell them both that if he wakes up to find them perched over him, he might not be too happy. But the Eridian’s insisted since he was so injured and vulnerable someone had to watch him. The concern is admirable.
Right now, thankfully, Grace is the one watching him, while Adrian and Rocky are out. He’s been given the foreseeable future off from classes, which means he can finally get caught up on grading.
One sharp inhale has his focused eyes snapping up from the papers towards the bed. Two intense red eyes are staring at him. Grace is pinned in place by his eyes drilling holes in his chest.
“Eye movement detected. What is two plus two?” Armando’s robotic voice asks, beginning to move around the stranger, trying to take stock of his health.
Red eyes flash to Armando’s arm for only a second before returning to Grace. The temporary break allows Grace to shake himself into action. He jumps up, letting the papers he was grading fall to the floor.
“What is two plus two?”
“Four!” Grace snaps at Armando, waving the arm away from where it’s getting in the stranger’s space. “Sorry, sorry, about him.” He comes to stand at the side of the bed, hands fluttering, looking for something to do. Since he looked at Armando, the stranger’s eyes haven’t left Grace. He tracked his every movement and twitch, which is difficult given how much Grace is flapping around.
His rough, unused voice breaks through the silence. “Are you… an angel?”
The question takes Grace by surprise. An Angel? Me? This man must be delirious. Grace tries to smile through his embarrassed shock. “Uh, heh, no. I’m, uh, Doctor Ryland Grace. Everyone calls me Grace though, you can too.”
Ah. Of course. “Okay.” Simon chokes out, his voice rough with disuse. He doesn’t know why in the world an angel would need to lie about being an angel. But he’s not going to question it. Who is he to question an angel? There are just certain things human minds can’t understand.
But it’s clear it’s lying. Its name is Grace, for fucks sake! How obvious can it be? Whatever reason it might be lying to him, he can play along.
“What’s your name?” It asks, kneeling down so it’s on even ground with Simon.
The angel probably already knows, but has chosen to let him go through the human introduction process. “I’m Simon.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Simon.” Its voice is melodious and lovely, greeting him and welcoming into heaven with such kindness. Simon, despite how long it has been, remembers kindness. To be able to experience again is something so holy this place must be heaven.
The room he’s in is decorated in neutral, calming colours, every surface soft and bright. The bed underneath him feels like a cloud, somehow he sinks even deeper into it. The room is warm, but not hot, the pillow under him is pleasantly cool. Everything is… perfect. Every inch of Grace too, is perfect. Its sandy blonde hair messily styled like hands have been run through it too many times. Its cream coloured cardigan stitched with a four legged animal Simon could identify on a better day. Even the way it wears its glasses, perched too low on its nose to be useful. Obviously, it doesn’t need them and probably doesn't even understand the function. Everything about it is endearing, just human enough to trick most people, but Simon knows no one is that kind and soft.
This must be heaven. Which means, somehow, someway, the black box must have gotten to the surface. Saving the box has redeemed his soul. He’s still a sinner, still training heaven with his presence, but he clawed his way to heaven with one final act of grace.
Kind hands hesitantly reached out, taking his one remaining hand. A soft thumb rubs over his knuckles gently. “I don’t know what happened to you, or how you got here, but I promise, you’ll be safe here.”
In one decisive move, Simon laces his fingers together with Grace, holding its hand tight. “Thank you.” Simon whispers it like a prayer.
The smile he gets in return is nothing short of heavenly.
Every moment that passes, there is more evidence that this is definitely heaven, and Grace is definitely an angel. Beyond all the evidence collected from their first and second meeting, things continue to pile up.
- When Simon finally has enough energy, he and Grace take a tour of the house. All of it is clean, free of blood and filth. Not a spot of rust or decay in sight. The house is messy, but not in an unclean way, in a lived in sort of way.
- Grace shows him to the fridge, making sure over and over that Simon knows everything in the fridge is free for the taking. Even when Simon tries to push back, instincts from years of food insecurity taking over, the angel assures they will always have enough food.
- After Simon confirms Grace can bring over some friends to check on his progress, he’s introduced to the other angels here. They of course look nothing like Grace. Instead, they remind him more of a reverse seraphim. Lot’s of limbs, but no eyes and no feathers. He supposes the bible couldn’t get everything about angels right. There were bound to be mistakes.
- Grace takes him outside after his recovery is far enough along. The place he finds himself in could not have come to him in his wildest dreams. White sand beach, rocky cliffs that surround the beach. And water. At first Simon is hesitant to get near it, but with some gentle prodding from Grace, they get close enough to sit down right in front of the water together. The fresh, clean, clear water is so far removed from the viscous liquid he’d drowned in that after a while he can’t remember why he was even scared. Besides, it’s not like he can drown here. And, most importantly, Grace is here to protect him.
Every moment is another moment Simon thought his damned soul would never experience. He’s careful to not let Grace or any of the others know he’s dead. Grace seemed upset at the idea that Simon knew it was an angel, so he is always very careful not to let on that he knows. Perhaps one day they will tell him, when they think he’s ready and won’t freak out.
Grace asks lots of questions of Simon, always curious about his past. He’s sure the angel already knows, but it’s giving Simon a chance to work through all his ‘trauma’. That's what Grace calls it, at least.
Simon has tried to explain to what they did, what was done to him, was in service of something bigger, even though his one remaining hand is clutched into a shaking fist.
If an angel is horrified by the acts committed in service to god, what must god think of them? Has everyone on Eden doomed their souls trying to achieve heaven?
The question is ash on his tongue and he tries not to think about it.
Simon is… weird.
He’s a wonderful, welcome addition to Grace’s life. But he’s also so weird. Well, Grace would be weird if he had gone through what Simon had. Simon still won’t talk about it, but right now there are about a dozen things on Grace’s list of things that make Simon weird as heck.
Either way, he’s nice to have around. Once Grace is sure he’s not going to die of blood loss or infection, he’s overjoyed to have him around.
Grace has never actually liked having roommates before. He had a few in college and for a short time after. They were all mostly fine, but Grace is a hard person to share space with, as Rocky can attest. But Simon doesn’t have a problem with all of Grace’s weirdness. Simon likes how messy that house gets sometimes.
“It feels like people live here.” He had said.
Grace had laughed and said, “Well, people do live here, so I’m glad you’re happy with it.”
Simon had given him one of his bemused half smiles that made Grace’s heart flutter and wandered away.
Simon, for some reason, enjoys household chores. He likes doing the dishes and the laundry, he likes cooking dinner, he even likes sweeping! Grace has never met a person who enjoys sweeping, yet Simon seems happy to do it. When Grace asked about that, Simon gave an answer that didn’t fail to confuse and sadden Grace.
“I guess, I just never had a chance to do something so normal before. There was always much bigger shit to worry about.”
So, yeah, Simon’s weird. And Grace loves having him around so much.
The bubble had to burst eventually.
“Oh, son of a biscuit!” Grace shouts from the kitchen nook.
Simon is already up and off the couch, his book abandoned. “Are you alright?”
Grace gives him a little smile over its shoulder, laughing. “Heh, yeah, just dumb. Cut myself.” Simon glances past Grace and sees a cutting board, a sharp knife and a partially cut up cucumber that the seraphim had given them to try.
Grace turns to fully face Simon, still smiling at its companion. Simon sees the bright red liquid, standing out clear against Grace’s soft pink skin. A gash, not even that deep, cuts into the meat of its palm, sluggishly dripping blood. Grace grabs a nearby dish towel with its other hand like nothing is wrong, pressing the fabric against its hand.
“Hey, I’m fine, it’s just a cut.” Grace says after Simon stays stock still, staring at its hand.
Simon lurches forward, grabbing Grace’s bleeding hand and pulling it forward. Despite his panic, he still holds Grace’s hand gently. He pulls the bleeding hand close to his face, looking intently at the wound.
“Simon? Are you okay? Really, it’s just a bit of blood.” Grace tries to tell him..
But all Simon can think about is the fact that angels don’t bleed. Simon dips his thumb into one of the little droplets. And yep, that’s definitely blood. That’s real, actual, human blood.
“Simon?” Grace says his name again, this time a little more worried.
“You’re bleeding.” Simon whisperes it like the words are a sin. Maybe the angel just doesn’t… understand? Maybe Grace will snap its fingers and the blood will be gone. Maybe… Is this all just a… mistake?
“You’re bleeding.” Simon sounds wrecked, like he’s about to cry. It fills Grace with panic, unsure what he’s supposed to do. Obviously Simon has a complicated relationship with blood, given how he was found.
But he doesn’t sound worried or afraid. He sounds shocked. Like he didn’t realize that was something Grace could do.
“Simon, c’mon, it’s fine. I’m fine.” Grace tries to assure him.
Simon is speaking, low and mostly himself, only a few words breaking through for Grace to hear. “That’s not…. shouldn’t…. I don’t…. Angels don’t bleed.”
That last part Grace can hear clear as day. “Simon. Simon, hey.” Grace pulls his hand out of the other man's grip and places his hands on the underside of his jaw, careful to not get any blood on Simon. He gently tilts Simon’s head up so they can make eye contact. “Hey, hi.”
Simon looks teary and afraid, his one hand going up to clutch and the front of Grace’s shirt. “Angels might not, but people do. It’s okay, it’s normal. Nothing to panic about.”
“You’re not supposed to bleed. Angels don’t bleed.” Simon says again, staring at Grace intently.
“I’m - ” Grace is thrown back to their second meeting, where Simon had asked Grace if he was an angel. At the time Grace had written it off, and Simon never brought it up again, so Grace thought the matter was closed. And suddenly a lot of things start making sense.
“I would never lie to you, it would be a sin, wouldn’t it?”
“I guess it makes sense that you wouldn’t swear.”
“I’m happy to look after the house while you’re gone, you have important stuff to do.”
“I didn’t realize you needed to eat. Actually, I thought I wouldn’t have to either.”
“It’s not like anything can hurt me anymore. Not here.”
Oh fuck!
“Simon, where do you think you are right now?” Grace asks, already dreading the answer.
“Our house.”
“Where is our house, Simon?”
“On a beach in heaven.” Simon answers.
FUCK!
“Simon, Simon, baby.” Grace squeezes Simon’s face a little, “We’re not in heaven, I’m not an angel! You’re not dead!” Grace’s body shakes with the urge to wrap Simon up in a big hug.
“But… I kissed you.” Simon says, like that explains anything.
Yeah, Grace had never gotten Simon to explain that part of their first meeting. He had tried to get Simon to clarify, but the conversation had never gone anywhere. But Simon never brought it up, so Grace figured they could just ignore it.
“Yeah, what does that have to do with any of this?” Grace asks, hoping to finally get some clarity.
“You, you’re an angel of death. You sucked my soul out of my body when you kissed me.” Simon says.
“Okay, you kissed me.” Grace says. “That’s not important, Simon, honey, I’m not a… an angel of death. That’s not… that’s not, uh… ”
Simon stares at him with wide eyes, seemingly unsure what to do. “But… ” He doesn’t seem to have any idea how to respond.
“Simon.” Grace leans forward, lightly bumping his forehead against the other man. “I, I don’t know what to say or how to make you believe me or what to do. But I need you to believe me. I promise, you’re alive.You’re alive, here, with me.”
They are both quiet for a very long time and Grace is fearful of what Simon will say. Grace feels Simon press back against him. “Okay. I believe you.”