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I'm tired.
Correction, I am very tired. Drifting in space for two years on the way to your alien best friend's planet will do that to you, I guess. Just one of those run-of-the-mill life experiences, right? Right.
Yeah…
It's been almost two years since I sent the Beetles back to Earth and started the trip to Erid with Rocky. As it turns out, humans did not evolve to be confined to only a few rooms for extended periods of time. Who knew?
Besides, well, literally every psychologist ever.
Stratt hadn't been kidding when she'd mentioned the risks of keeping the crew awake during the trip to Tau Ceti. Even if I'd been willing to go, I honestly don't think I would have made the trip. The stress of the mission would have killed me or made me kill someone else.
To be honest, though? What's getting to me the most is just how bored I feel. While it sounds depressing — because, honestly, it kind of is — very few things make me genuinely happy nowadays. I do things because they prevent me from throwing myself out of the airlock, not because I find inherent joy in them. Life has reduced itself to just… making it through the day.
It doesn't help that I know that I'm only halfway through the trip. Gosh, not even. The official halfway point is only in a couple of days, I think. It really sucks that this, everything I'm feeling, is literally only the half of it.
Not to mention the fact that I'm going to run out of good food. One of my few remaining pleasures, gone. All I'm going to have is coma slurry, which tastes… disgusting, but at least it has the nutrients I need, right? Yeah, no bueno. I don't have an infinite supply of that stuff, either.
When the slurry runs out — and it will — all I'll have left is Taumoeba, which is even more disgusting and doesn't have nearly enough nutrients to sustain me for long. It's all nothing but a ticking time bomb.
Even though the mission is over, and I know that it's over, I still have so many time constraints. The irony of it all is just the cherry on top.
I absently run my fingers along my arm in an attempt to ground myself, but, as usual, it doesn't really work.
Come to think of it, I’m constantly fidgeting. Whether it's wringing my hands or fiddling with my hair, it's always something. Some kind of poor attempt at mimicking human contact. Still, if I don't do it, I feel anxious. No, wait, that's the wrong word. I feel dread.
Pure, raw dread. I'm the only human for light-years. I'll probably never see another human again. Never get to talk to another human again. Never get to touch one. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I would probably kill for something as trivial as a high five from one of my students right now.
Who are now around the age I was when I was put onto the Hail Mary. Still a bit hard to wrap my head around, honestly. Not that it's a difficult concept, but it's still hard to process. In fact, reading and rereading their notes and letters that they wrote for me so long ago has become somewhat of a tradition for me.
I mean, I can't help it. I know that it perpetuates how sucky it all feels, but… I just can't stop. It's quite literally the last time another human has said something to me directly. Or, well, written something to me directly. It's not the same, but it's all I have. I treasure it. Man, does it make me feel pathetic.
Anyway, I try not to let these things show, but it's hard. As much as I love Rocky — and I do; I care about him more than anyone else in the universe — I can’t pretend. Which, honestly, makes me feel even more pathetic.
Rocky spent forty years alone in space. Forty. Even if I were to look at it in contrast to the grand scheme of his lifetime, that's still around four years of mine. And I can't even handle half of that time? With company, to boot? It's ridiculous! I feel completely, utterly ridiculous.
I feel like I'm starting to go crazy.
How long until I just can't handle it anymore? Until I finally relent, finally give in to the idea of giving up?
Stop it, Ryland, I berate myself. This isn't helping.
Nothing I do helps.
I'd thrown Yao's gun into the emptiness of space a few months ago to remove any temptation that I may have, but even that didn't feel like enough. I'd tried to get rid of Ilyukhina's heroine, too, but… I hadn't been able to muster up the willpower.
Once again, pathetic.
I need something new. I'm worried that if I can't spark some joy in my life again, no matter how trivial, I'm going to start begging for Rocky to let me induce another coma for the trip to Erid — which would absolutely not be fair to him at all!
Still, what other option would I have? Forcing him to watch me go crazy? That's worse! That's so, so, so much worse! I would basically be making him watch his crew deteriorate again, all because I can't get it together?
So, yeah. I need to find something. I need to make a change. But what?
Despite being a scientist, I can't even begin to think of what to do. It all feels hopeless. Empty, and hopeless. At least when we'd been fighting to find a solution for our stars, I felt like I had a purpose. Now that that's over, though? I just… don't. How selfish is that?
Belatedly, I realise that I'm crying. Fantastic. I don't bother to stop the tears from falling, nor to dry my eyes with my sleeves. What's the point? Rocky can hear me, anyway. Sitting in a fetal position next to the window, staring at the stars, and sniffling like a baby. He's probably just giving me some space, but I feel like I've had enough of that to last an Eridian lifetime.
And, speak of the devil, I hear some clanking coming from the tunnel behind me, slowly drawing nearer. His footsteps are lighter and a bit slower than normal, which annoys me. He doesn't need to walk on eggshells around me just because I'm being pathetic. A part of me knows that I'm being unreasonable, but another, much larger part of me just doesn't care.
I — admittedly, stubbornly — refuse to turn around when I hear his footsteps stop. It makes no difference for Rocky; he can see my face anyway, but I make a point not to acknowledge his presence. It's childish. I don't care.
“Your eyes are leaking again,” Rocky hums softly from behind me. My Eridian has grown to be pretty decent ever since meeting him, so I hardly make use of the translator anymore. While Rocky still uses grammar that better fits English for my sake, I understand his words and their meanings perfectly fine.
I've even started to pick up on his inflexions more often than not, which is something that I struggled with for a while. It lies in the rhythm of Rocky's words, if that makes sense. Like the drawl of certain chords or lilts and dips in pitch, which is how I'm able to tell that his words are tentative. Concerned. For me. The stubbornness anchoring me to my spot slowly ebbs away into guilt. What am I doing?
Almost losing myself in thought again, I nearly missed Rocky's question.
“Are you okay, Grace?” Rocky asks, with a hesitance to the way I hear him double-tap the floor to punctuate.
I… don't really know how to answer that, but I try.
“Not really, Rock,” I mumble, knowing that lying is pointless. Rocky can hear my heartbeat, pretty much making him a walking lie detector. It makes it hard to hide things from him, but what was new? This coffin is so small and cramped anyway that privacy was never really an option, even with a human crew. “But there's nothing you can do about it, so you don't have to worry.”
“You're being stupid,” Rocky stated, quite matter-of-factly. I scoff, my breath fogging the window in front of me as a result. “Tell me what's wrong, and we can fix it together.”
“It's not that simple,” I insist, letting my eyes briefly slip shut. “Rocky, please. Just drop it.”
“I can't. You've been acting very strange. Always quiet, never still. Touching your arms and head a lot. You keep talking in your sleep, more than usual. Saying things that worry me. I want to help you.”
I sigh, finally turning to look at Rocky. It makes me feel a bit better when I notice the gesture slightly relaxing Rocky's posture, previously tense with worry. I know that he's not stupid, his observations don't surprise me, it's just… I don't know. I wanted to put off actually talking about it for as long as possible.
“Have I taught you what zoochosis is?” I finally ask. “What isolation can do to a human?”
Rocky pulls his arms underneath him and gently lowers his carapace, loafing like a cat. It's clear that he knows that this is going to be a Ryland Grace Teaching Moment™, and he'd better get comfortable. I want to smile, but I can't muster the effort.
“No,” Rocky hums. I nod in response.
“Zoochosis is a condition that occurs in Earth animals when held in captivity for too long. Over time, they start developing certain self-destructive habits like pacing or over-grooming to cope with their limited space.” I puff out my cheeks and slowly exhale, tapping my hands against my thighs. I suddenly find it challenging to look at Rocky directly. “I think that I'm experiencing something similar.”
“Bad,” is all that Rocky says. “But not surprising. I felt the same when I was alone. Big ship, but not enough space. Felt smaller than it was. It must be a lot worse for you in the Mary. I am sorry, friend.”
I nod a little. “It's not just the lack of space, though. I miss… I miss being able to touch another human.” I sniffle. “Heck, not even. Even just seeing my cat again would help, but…”
“What is that word?” Rocky asked, tap tapping the floor. “The one after seeing. Your…?” Tap tap.
“Oh, my cat?” Rocky hummed an affirmative. “I, um… It’s a pet. The fluffy one with the pointy ears that I've shown you? The flexible one with the long tail?”
“I understand. It's in many movies. Humans must like them a lot.”
I nod again. “They reduce stress. People like how soft and warm they are, and it makes humans happy to look at them. They also do this thing called purring, which regulates human heartbeats. It sounds kind of like an engine. Oh, and they do this thing where they move their arms like this.” I mimic a cat making biscuits with my hands. “And something about it is just really cute. I'm not really sure what the evolutionary purpose of it is, though.”
Rocky seems amused by my description. I don't know how I can tell; I just… can? There's something about his posture, a very small tilt to his carapace mixed with a slight lilt to his words. Once again, it's all part of his rhythm. One that, with every day, I find myself more and more in tune with. I wonder if learning Eridian has a direct correlation with musical prowess… I should try out some kind of instrument! Maybe that would help me pass the time.
I snap out of it, realising that Rocky is speaking.
“—on Erid. Domesticated ♪♫♪♫♪♪. A lot of Eridians have one. They were bred to help with hunting, but they don't really do that anymore.”
“Yes, we have that, too! Dogs. Cats were bred for pest control; dogs were bred for hunting. They look kind of like cats, but they're not as graceful. I think you saw one when I was watching YouTube. You said it was gross.”
“I remember.” Rocky shudders a little. “It was eating. Leaking from its mouth everywhere.”
I finally smile. Talking to Rocky helps; I just wish… my smile fades a little. I wish there wasn't always a panel of xenonite separating us.
Rocky immediately notices my shift in mood. “You want something warm and soft to touch? Would that help? I can make you something.”
I shake my head. “It needs to be alive, Rock. Another living thing. Stupid human biology stuff.”
“Yes, human biology is stupid and impractical,” Rocky begins. I give him a glare with no real heat behind it. “But I can fix. I was saving this for the half-journey celebration, but it clearly can't wait anymore. Humans are too impatient for that.”
I open my mouth to ask what the heck he's talking about, but before I can even think of what to say, he holds up a finger and disappears down his tunnel. Man, is he fast. Honestly, if Eridians invaded Earth, we would all probably die. It would be exactly like A Quiet Place, but with slightly less scary rock-spiders instead of Death Angels. Thank goodness Eridians are cool.
After about three minutes have passed, I get impatient.
What? My alien friend has a present for me, and it's exciting. Something new.
I get up and follow Rocky's tunnel to his workshop. Before I can get there, though, I hear a loud frenzy of notes that I can barely process. The most I managed to make out was, “♪♪♫♪ almost finished! So ♫♪♫♪♪ impatient, ♫♫♪♪♪ wait ♫♪♫♪!”
Ignoring Rocky, I keep walking. I start to hear… clinking? Like chain links being rattled around.
Ugh, I hate chains. Ever since needing to make two hundred thousand links, I never want to see a chain again. Rocky better not be using some kind of chain back there, or I will strangle him. Metaphorically.
Actually, no. I'm a scientist; I'll find a way.
That's when I hear the hissing of Rocky's airlock. I pick up my pace until I enter the dormitory.
“Rocky, what on Earth are you doing in—” I stop in my tracks. Or, more accurately, I trip, stumble, and then stop in my tracks. Letting out a stream of half-curses, I turn around to glare at the thing that's definitely bruised the front of my calf.
That's when I see Rocky.
He's… in a suit. Not his ball, but — oh my God — an actual clear, xenonite suit!
It's comprised of a lot of small, triangular xenonite panels held together by some kind of… glue? It’s clearly different to what he used for his ball, since it’s completely flexible and way more form-fitting. I can't even begin to imagine how long it took for Rocky to assemble all of those little panels. They're more like shards, actually, reflecting the light of the ship in little spots all over the room, similar to a disco ball.
The sight is enough to bring tears to my eyes. I doubt it was intentional, but it's really beautiful.
“Grace, you're leaking! It's a happy leak, right? Please tell me it's a happy leak.” Rocky seems a little distressed. I laugh wetly, getting down on my knees to face him properly.
“C'mere,” I say, holding open my arms. Rocky edges forward, careful not to put too much weight on me, and hugs me. A real hug.
The floodgates truly open after that. I'm reduced to a sobbing, hiccuping mess. Rocky says nothing, just lightly patting me on the back. It's enough. More than enough.
We're still separated by xenonite, but it doesn't bother me. It feels more like a piece of clothing, now, rather than a wall. It's… It’s amazing. Rocky is amazing.
“You're really warm,” I finally manage, wiping at my nose with my sleeve. I really need to stop being such a crybaby, gosh.
“I'm using the same coolant system that I used for my ball. Is it not working? Is it hurting you? This xenonite is thinner, so please tell me.” He taps my side as he hugs me to punctuate the questions instead of using the floor. It tickles a little, and I have to stop myself from squirming.
“No, no,” I rush to assure him. “It's nice, actually. Makes me feel a bit like a lizard on a warm rock.”
“You feel like a what?”
I shrug. “Animal from Earth. Not important.”
Rocky hums, accepting that answer. “I can see so much of you right now,” he says, carapace tilting ever so slightly. “It's disgusting.”
I roll my eyes fondly. “You're disgusting.”
After a little while, Rocky starts to shuffle slightly from foot to foot. “Is the hug over now? I have another thing that I want to show you.”
I nod, reluctantly letting him go. He backs away and heads toward his airlock, where I notice that there's something on the floor that he must've taken out with him. It looks like… a blanket?
A laugh escapes me as he lifts it and tugs it on. It's definitely not a blanket. It's a onesie! It's an Eridian onesie!
“I made it to wear over the suit because I couldn't make a suit out of fabric,” Rocky explains as he wrestles to get his arms through the sleeves. “I'm hoping it'll be nice for you to feel.”
“That's amazing, Rock!” Truthfully, want to jump and squeal like a teenage girl, but I refrain. Barely. “Is it okay for you, though? Can you still hear properly with all of that on?”
“Yes, it's comfortable and conducts sound well. Makes it a bit harder to see the edges of the ship, but it's hardly noticeable. I don't need to see it, anyway. You're more important than being able to see the fuel tanks in good definition.”
Rocky heads toward me again, the onesie now fully on. The sleeves each end in little three-fingered gloves, the only part of Rocky remaining uncovered being the top of his carapace. Like the green sweater that he often wears, the top of the onesie looks like a shirt collar. I mean, he doesn't have a head, but he makes it work.
The colour of the onesie is a pretty splotchy mix of browns. I like it. It reminds me of his carapace. Because of that, the visuals in general are quite funny. He's wearing a green sweater, a xenonite suit over that, and a onesie over the suit that makes him look naked all over again because it's almost the same colour as his carapace.
That would be like me wearing clothes, an EVA suit (minus the helmet), and a skin-coloured onesie over that. Thank goodness he has his astrophage coolant system, because otherwise he would probably melt the ship with how hot he'd get under there.
As soon as Rocky is within range, I reach out to touch him. His onesie is soft. I have no idea what material it is, but it feels incredible. I'd been expecting him to use a fabric similar to aramid, considering the temperature and pressure of Rocky's atmosphere, but nope. It felt more like wool, somehow.
I certainly wasn't complaining. Rocky literally felt like a heated blanket, and it was incredible.
“This calls for a celebration,” I proclaim, suddenly shooting to my feet.
“But the actual halfway mark is only in two days.”
“Don't care; we're celebrating today. To the don't-go-crazy room!”
Rocky does jazz hands. “To the don't-go-crazy room!”
Words can't explain how glad I am to see Grace lively again. I knew that he'd like his gift, but this was more than I could've ever hoped for.
He smiles constantly as we sit in the boring room — or, at least, it was boring before I started using my camera to display what was happening on Grace's light screens as textures I can actually perceive.
Grace had carried many soft nest materials to the room, and together we had made a comfortable arrangement on the floor. Immediately, I had perched on one of the pillows, the fragile thing sinking under my weight. Grace had started laughing in response, and I'd shaken my fist at him.
He'd quickly explained that I looked like the animal he'd mentioned earlier — a cat — when it perched. He'd called it something related to the human food (yuck) that looked like a brick. I wasn't too fond of the comparison.
Anyway, when we'd finished setting it up, he'd held one of his bags of celebration liquid high with his arm in triumph.
Now, he sips on the liquid as we chatter. I know that he'd been saving it for special occasions like this, and was more than happy to finally get to have some. While I personally didn't understand how the stuff worked, I knew that it made him act similarly to how he did when he took his pain medicine. Stupid.
I didn't necessarily mind too much, though. Now that the constant pressure of saving two worlds had abated, letting loose no longer had as much risk. If being stupid made Grace happy, I was all for it.
“Can you put on the sky-explosions?” I ask, pointing my camera at the blank display. I absolutely love the textures it makes, even if I can't fully appreciate it like Grace can. I also quite like it when Grace puts on the noise machines, the loud booming of the explosions throwing the entire room into high definition.
Now, I wouldn't tell Grace this — mostly because he'd relentlessly tease me — but I like how it lets me hear him so clearly. Humans have a lot of crevices, and they're interesting to listen to. They're a lot more textured than Eridians.
“Sure, Rock,” Grace replies, and I shake my hands with joy. “Do you want sound on?”
I hum, tilting my body back and forth in a way that mimics Grace's nodding. He smiles at the gesture and puts the sky-explosions on the light screens.
For a while, neither of us say anything. I simply enjoy the sound around me while Grace looks around with his eyes. It's peaceful.
Grace and I have spoken so much in the past two years that we've learned to just… enjoy each other's company without words. It usually involves one of us working on something while the other relaxes. For myself, relaxation is working. I enjoy making things with no inherent function or breaking unimportant things just to repair them. It's my passion.
For Grace, however, relaxation almost always involves his thinking machine. Sometimes, he’ll be watching something, and he'll turn on audio description so that I may also listen without having to hold up my camera constantly.
Other times, he will listen to spoken stories. He's explained to me that humans have written stories, which are printed onto thin sheets of cheap material and mass-produced. Humans use their eyes to read them, but he said that some humans can't read very well, or simply don't enjoy it, so they listen to another human read it out loud instead. I quite enjoy spoken stories. They're my favourite form of human entertainment.
On Erid, we don't really have a method of entertainment like that that's commercially affordable. Instead, most Eridians gather in large auditoriums to listen to plays. We also have radio stations, which I found out that humans have as well. Grace and I were quite amused to find that the radio form of entertainment was largely the same on both of our planets.
Anyway, we've found quite a few ways to keep ourselves entertained that work well for both of us. You definitely have to if you intend to spend a lot of time in proximity to another person. We mainly use auditory methods since they’re the most convenient.
Things aren't always perfect between us, though. Sometimes, we just want some time alone. We have an unspoken agreement that if one of us needs solitude, the other needs to give it to them. Mainly because we don't want to end up killing each other and starting an interplanetary war.
In all seriousness, I try to be as mindful as possible about Grace. He doesn't experience time the same way I do, and I know that he's not as patient as I am. Why would he be, what with the human lifespan? I try not to think about it, but it's pointless for me to do that. It's something that I need to be mindful of.
Anyway, after spending forty of Grace's years alone, thinking that I’d failed my world, it changed me. It would change anyone in the same position as me, I like to think. As strong as I'd tried to be for my crew, for my world, for my mate, I knew that there were imperceptible cracks eroded into my carapace from that time that would never disappear.
After experiencing such a low point in my life, other low points stopped seeming so horrible. I don't know whether that time strengthened me or damaged me more, but I do know that nothing can compare to what that isolation was like. The emptiness. The complete, utter silence.
It's one of the reasons this trip isn't affecting me nearly as much as it is Grace. He wasn't awake for the trip to the unaffected star in the first place, so this is his first experience with a long time in a comfined area. Not to mention that he's not a proper astronaut, and that he had little to no preparation for this.
The biggest reason, though? Grace never had to deal with years of loneliness. I can't even find it within myself to hate the trip back to Erid, because I have company. Another sentient, living being to talk to. A friend. And, on top of all of that, I'm going home. I'm going to hear my mate again. The mere thought is enough to snap me out of any kind of negative mindset.
So, yes, I try to be mindful of my friend. I feel a bit sorry that whenever I want privacy, all I have to do is go to another room. Meanwhile, if he wants privacy, I have to be asleep. Otherwise, I can hear him anywhere on the ship. Like earlier, for instance.
I'm not fully sorry, though. Call me selfish, but I'm actually glad that I can monitor him. After what happened to my crew… I feel better when I know where he is. What he's doing. If he's safe.
Anyway, that's not important right now. What matters is that we're together, and that Grace is happier again. I want to keep it that way for as long as possible.
“Grace,” I say to break the silence between us, his head turning toward me in attention. He takes a sip from his drink, humming an inquisitive noise that kind of sounds like the Eridian word for pace to let me know that he's paying attention.
Funny enough, human drinking doesn't disgust me as much as it should. Not only has Grace forced me to mildly get used to his constant… ugh, eating, but drinking is just so foreign to me that I just… don't care. Eridians don't do that at all, so the concept is incredibly — forgive the pun — alien to me.
“What are your most recent notes on?” I ask the question because Grace loves talking about science. To keep himself busy, he's been cataloguing all of the life that we sampled from Adrian so long ago and doing science stuff on it to learn about it. His notes are most extensive on taumoeba for obvious reasons, but they’ve expanded quite a bit with information on the other life.
I last remember him telling me about a long microorganism that he said looked like a worm (an animal from Earth) and that he'd figured out how to breed it. I know that he's a scientist — deemed the most capable to save his entire planet, no less — but he's amazing with microbiology.
While an Eridian can't really forget things, I sometimes feel as if I forget how smart he is. It doesn't often feature at the forefront of my mind, partly because of how goofy and unserious he acts. I think he does the same thing, considering how he'll often call me a genius for solving — in my opinion — incredibly simple problems.
“Oh, well, you know how I was talking to you about those worm-looking things from Adrian? Still need to name them, but what I found out was that—” I stop listening too attentively after that. In all honesty, while I am interested in Grace's work, I'm more interested in how happy he becomes when he talks about it. I'm not a science Eridian, so most of the terms he uses escape my understanding. I pay just enough attention to ask questions, but that's about it. The important thing is to get him going. I like to call it conversational inertia. Once he's started, he doesn't stop.
“—an’ then she said Trong!” I feel a chitter of laughter escape me, Grace laughing as well. The sound lights up the room around us. Human children could be quite quick despite their ages, I've come to learn. Mostly because Grace never stops talking about it, but I love it all the same. “Maan, was she cheeky… can't even count the number'a times that m’students made me look like’n idiot.”
“That's because you are an idiot,” I say, Grace lightly whacking my arm in response. I hardly feel it, but I nudge him in return anyway. The fact that he can — more or less — touch me now seems to have drastically boosted his mood. Plus the liquid stupidness that he drinks, of course.
It makes the many, many, many hours I spent interlinking the small xenonite shards of this suit while Grace slept worth it. Of course, anything is worth it if it’s for Grace, but it feels nice to have my work further validated all the same.
We'd stopped watching the sky-explosions a decent while ago. Grace had insisted on changing the light screen to a recreational area commonly found in Earth cities. He said he liked the sunlight and the tall human plants. I'd told him that I didn't mind, and that he didn't need to explain himself, but he'd insisted on it anyway.
“Say, Rocky?” Grace chimes, tilting his head at me. I hum a meaningless note of attention, angling my body toward him. “I feel like m’always talkin’ about Earth, but y’never mention Erid.”
I… don't answer. Grace continues, waving his bag of liquid around flippantly. “Feel free tah tell me tah buzz off, but… I kinda wanna hear about it, y'know? What it was like. I mean, we're headin’ there, so… I guess m'just curious.”
I mull it over for a few seconds, but I reach a decision fairly quickly. This is Grace, after all. I'd do anything if he asked.
“What do you want to know?” I hum, slightly quieter than I'd meant to. I don't think Grace notices.
“Would'ya tell m’about Adrian?”
My hand subconsciously drifts to the part of my arm where my wedding band lies, but I pause when I remember that I'm wearing several layers of material. I feel slight frustration at not being able to graze the familiar texture with my fingers.
“Adrian was… a scientist,” I hum, allowing myself to reminisce. “More specifically, a biologist. Like you.”
Grace's mouth falls open, a gesture that I've learned to mean surprise. I continue. “They were very passionate about the animals on Erid. When the star-eaters came, they helped with the conservation efforts. They prevented many animals from going extinct.
“Because we do not eat plants like you do, our food source is limited only to our animals. Our food chain is fragile at best, so we needed to keep our animals alive. Beyond necessity, though, Adrian loved animals, and would have done everything that they could to save them. Passionate is… an understatement.”
A few wistful notes of our courting song escape me before I even realise that I'm humming it. It's been so long since I last heard Adrian's part… I can't wait to hear it again someday soon.
At least, I hope I will. It's been a long time. Adrian could have found a new mate, or Adrian could be… I refused to entertain the thought any longer. I knew my Adrian, and my Adrian was stubborn. If there were any chance that I was alive, I know that Adrian would cling to it, no matter how long it took.
I could only hope that the ones closest to my crew members were not as stubborn, for their own sakes…
Grace seems to notice the dip in my posture, because it isn't long before I feel his arms wrap around the soft cloth of my oversuit, cheek smushed against the uncovered xenonite at the top of my body. I don't know if it was intentional of him, but he'd chosen to press his face into the one part of my suit where I can hear my surroundings the best.
If I had human eyes, they would probably leak at the gesture.
“We're gonna see ‘em soon, mkay?” He says, giving me a reassuring squeeze. “I didn't mean tah make you miss ‘em. Sorry, Rock.”
I bring up a hand, lightly petting the top of Grace's head. The latter seems to relax, arms loosening their hold on me ever so slightly. While I've heard the thin strands of fur on his head many times, I've never been able to actually interact with them directly. The fur lights up with an odd, scratchy noise as I run my claws over it, which sparks my interest.
I hum at the odd texture, contracting and expanding my fingers experimentally in an effort to make a new noise. Grace seems to enjoy this touch far more, practically melting on top of me. I make a mental note of his reaction for later.
“It's okay,” I say eventually. “We've just… we've been apart for a long time. I haven't seen another Eridian for many, many, many years. I wish I could tell you all about them, but it's still painful. I don't know why. We're heading back to Erid. I should be happy, but for some reason, I miss them more than ever.”
Grace, who sounds noticeably more tired, nods sluggishly under my fingers. “I understand. M'sorry.”
“Don't be sorry. If it weren't for you, I'd still be in that ship. Alone. Thinking that I'd failed them.”
Grace's lips curve downward. “Same.”
I hum. “Same, same, same.”
A brief silence.
“Rocky?” Grace mumbles.
“Yes, Grace?”
“How’d y’do it?” I can barely make out what he's saying anymore, his drowsiness and stupidity causing the syllables of his words to slur together, but I know what he's referring to.
“I don't know,” I answer truthfully. “I wanted to give up. I just… couldn't. My entire planet depended on me. Without that guilt, I don't think I would've lasted longer than a year.”
“M'glad you didn't give up,” Grace mumbles. I hear his breathing start to slow, a sign that he's about to fall asleep. “Love you, Rock.”
“I love you, too.”
“Mm… gonna sleep now. G’night.”
“Goodnight, Grace. I'll watch.”
He'd drifted off long before I'd said it, but I felt the need to say it regardless. Listening to his ever-loud body, I reminded myself that I'd never have to be surrounded by the silence of an empty ship again. The thought comforted me.
On a whim, I attempt to mimic the purring noise that Grace had described, rumbling low in my body. After all, I'd heard it a few times while he'd been watching his light screen. While it may have been my imagination, I swore I heard his heartbeat slow.
I can’t fix all of Grace’s problems, and he can’t fix all of mine, but we can be there for each other. From one moment to the next.