Archive of Our Own

"I expected you to be more..." You trailed off as you looked at the scientist standing in front of you. "...put together."

Ryland Grace stared back at you, pale and visibly fighting for his life.

"I just flew through multiple countries in a fighter jet in less than two hours," he said weakly.

You raised an eyebrow. "Fair point." With a tilt of your head, you motioned for him to follow.

The hallways of Stratt's facility were a maze of concrete corridors, security doors, and fluorescent lights. You had worked there long enough to navigate them without thinking.

Behind you, Grace shuffled along. After a moment, he cleared his throat.

"Do you, uh..." He swallowed. "Do you have anything for nausea?"

You kept walking. "Maybe."

"That's the most hopeful answer I've received all day." You almost smiled.

"The surprise presentation with the most important people in the world didn't really help," he continued. "Turns out that's not great for the stomach."

His voice sounded slightly greener by the second, so you picked up your pace.

Grace had expected a military escort. Instead, he'd been met by someone carrying a clipboard and looking profoundly unimpressed by his existence.

As you walked, employees stepped aside to let you and Grace pass.

"Morning, ma'am." An employee bowed. "Good afternoon, Miss." Another bowed.

You answered each greeting without breaking stride. Behind you, Grace was quiet. "You're important here."

"No."

"That wasn't a question..."

By the time you reached the room Stratt had assigned him, Grace looked like he was one bad turn away from decorating the hallway floor.

You opened the door. The room was small and practical. A single bed. A cabinet. A chair. A table. And sitting on that table beside a glass of water was a packet of anti-nausea medication.

Grace spotted it immediately. His eyes lit up with genuine excitement.

Before you could say a word, he crossed the room, grabbed the medication, and swallowed it with the water.

You watched the entire process unfold. "...You didn't even ask if it was for you."

He lowered the glass. "It was sitting next to a glass of water."

"That's your reasoning?"

"That and you didn't stop me."

You stared at him. He stared back.

"...Fair."

A few seconds passed before you gestured around the room. "This is your room. The bathroom is down the hall."

Grace nodded, already looking significantly more alive than he had five minutes ago.

You sighed. You couldn't believe you were about to say this. Mostly because it sounded ridiculous. But Stratt had been very specific.

"And if you need assistance," you said, forcing the words out, "I'll be right next door."

For a moment, Grace simply blinked at you, then his eyebrows rose. "Wow."

"What."

"Stratt assigned me a babysitter."

"I am not your babysitter." You gripped your clipboard tighter.

"Good." He glanced around the room. "Because that would be embarassing for both of us."

You sigh once again, relieved that your ordered interaction with him was almost over.

"Seven am tomorrow. Conference room. You'll know where it is." You close the door.

With the years you've spent working as Ava Stratt's second-in-command, you couldn't believe that she assigned you to look over a science teacher with a doctorate in molecular biology.

You plan to talk with Stratt tomorrow before she meets with Grace, thinking of lines in your head that you think will make Stratt consider.

You realized that you'd been standing in front of Grace's door for a few minutes, thinking about your plan for tomorrow morning. Before you could move, the door opened.

You were greeted with Ryland's blue eyes, staring at you, confused. "Have you been standing there for the past few minutes?"

Your eyes widened, embarrassed that you were indeed standing there for the past few minutes.

"I have a lot on my mind." You turn to go to your room next door, but he calls to you.

"Where uh— Where are my things?" He looks back at his depressingly empty dormitory.

"Oh." You stop in front of your door. "Staff will bring it to you tomorrow."

His eyes widened. The thought of sleeping in the same clothes he presented in front of a council of the most important people and flew across half of the world simply disgusted him.

"So I'm supposed to slip in this?" He cringed.

You sighed, "There are pajamas inside the cabinet and a free Project Hail Mary shirt just down the hallway."

"What about my pants?!"

You pinched the bridge of your nose both in amusement and annoyance. "You are a molecular biologist, Dr. Grace." You looked at him. "Figure it out."

"That seems unrelated to pants."

You stare at him one last time before closing the door of your dormitory.

~

It was one of those mornings where you woke up feeling strangely optimistic.

Then you saw Ryland Grace's door. The optimism immediately left your body.

You still didn't understand why Stratt had assigned you to him. World-ending crisis aside, he was a science teacher. Yes, he had a doctorate in molecular biology. Yes, he had somehow impressed a room full of the most powerful people on Earth. Yes, Stratt herself seemed interested in him.

But he was still, at his core, a science teacher.

A very tall science teacher. An annoyingly intelligent science teacher. A science teacher currently standing between you and whatever important work Stratt should have assigned you instead.

You arrive at the conference room Stratt had called you and Grace into the day before. Stratt was sitting at the head of the table, sipping her two cups of coffee.

"Stratt." You stood in front of her, not going to your normal spot next to her.

She hummed, not breaking eye contact with her laptop.

"Can you assign Doctor Grace to another staff member?" You try to recite the lines you have been planning in your head since you met Grace. "I have spent months coordinating this entire operation, and now I'm assigned to escort a scientist around?"

Stratt stops typing and looks up at you, interlocking her fingers with her other hand. "You are assigned to an important task."

"So babysitting a scientist is an important task?!" You couldn't believe her.

The security guards in the room looked more tense than you. Up until you were promoted as second-in-comand, you were really the only one on the ship who had the guys to argue with Ava Stratt.

Stratt sighed, saying your last name. "That scientist that you are 'babysitting' is the leading scientist on astrophage research."

You freeze, finally realizing the gravity of the words Stratt had said.

Leading. Scientist. On. Astrophage. Research.

"Good morning, Dr. Grace." Stratt looks over your shoulder.

You look behind you and see Grace in the same pants as yesterday, but is now wearing a free Project Hail Mary shirt.

Your breath hitched, realizing that he might've heard you complaining about him to Stratt. "How long have you been there?"

He stood there awkwardly, "For the record, I also wasn't sure why I was assigned a babysitter."

You looked at him. "You're not helping your case."

Stratt finally stands up from her seat and walks towards the projected image of what looked like a presentation she had prepared. You walk to your seat, having an internal monologue on why you were assigned to look over the now-leading scientist in astrophage research.

She looks over at Grace and gestures to the seat right next to you. "Have a seat."

Grace immediately walks over and sits next to you, plopping down a pen and notepad he had found in his dormitory.

"Alright." Stratt sighs. "I am sure both of you are confused about why I assigned my second-in-command to the leading scientist in astrophage research."

Those words were beginning to feel less like a title and more like a personal attack.

"How did you not know about me?" He whispers to you. "Were you not at the conference yesterday?"

You looked straight at Stratt, not turning your head towards him. "I was organizing the spaceship's systems with Russia and China."

Grace's eyes widened, his voice significantly louder than the whisper he had voiced seconds ago. "Russia and China?!"

You force your eyes shut, feeling Stratt get increasingly annoyed at the only two people she was presenting to not paying attention.

Stratt clears her throat, making Grace sit straight and finally pay attention. "Sorry."

Stratt tapped the remote, and the projected image behind her changed. “Dr. Grace.”

Grace immediately looked up.

“You are the most qualified person on Earth to study astrophage and determine a solution to the Petrova problem.”

Grace nodded slowly.

“And you,” she continued, looking at you.

You straightened slightly.

“You are the only person in this facility who has consistently managed to take impossible objectives and turn them into executable plans.”

You opened your mouth. Then closed it. Compliments from Stratt were rare enough that you weren’t sure that was what just happened.

“Dr. Grace can solve the scientific problem,” Stratt continued. “You will make sure his solutions can actually be implemented.”

She looked between the two of you.

“That is why you are working together.”

Silence fills the room. Stratt tapped the remote again and the image behind her changed. It was a diagram of the Hail Mary

"The mission has one critical limitation." Stratt looked at Grace. "The ship can reach Tau Ceti."

She paused.

"Assuming we can produce enough fuel to get there."

Grace starts paying closer attention to the presentation, scribbling notes at his notepad. "Right now, we know astrophage can be cultivated."

Stratt changes the slide. "The problem is scale."

She looked at Grace "We do not need a sample. We do not need a laboratory quantity."

Another slide appeared. "We need enough astrophage to power humanity's last chance."

"Your task is to determine how to increase production." Stratt looked at Grace. "How to make astrophage reproduce faster. More efficiently."

Then her eyes moved to you. "And once he has that answer, your task is to make it possible."

"Meaning?" You tapped your pen onto the table.

"Facilities. Resources. Personnel. Legal obstacles. Everything outside of science."

Grace stopped writing for a moment and turned towards you. "You do all of that?"

You looked confused. "Yes."

"As part of your job?"

"Yes."

He looked back at his notes. "Interesting."

You sighed, thinking of the amount of work you had to do on top of your existing responsibilities. But your line of thought was shattered by Stratt's next few words.

"Fortunately, we have a lead."

The next slide appeared. A man's face appeared on the screen. You frowned and tilted your head a bit. "Who is that?"

"Dr. Robert Redell."

You hear the frantic scribbling next to you stop, and Grace looks up. "The engineer?" The surprise in Grace's voice made you look over. It was the first time since yesterday that he looked completely serious.

Stratt looked at him. "You know him?"

"Everyone in energy engineering knows him."

Stratt looked amused by his knowledge of this man. She gestures for him to continue explaining.

“Dr. Redell was responsible for developing the most efficient production system currently known.”

The room went quiet.

“He is also currently serving a life sentence.” He silently adds.

You were confused and turned to him. "For what?"

"Culpable homicide," Stratt answers you. "His solar energy project failed. Seven workers died."

"So you want me to get him out." You finally piece together what Stratt wants you to do. It doesn't take much time for it to figure out due to the years you have spent working with her.

"Yes." She didn't hesitate. "You have the authority to negotiate his pardon."

Stratt stared at you intensely. "Use it."

Grace looked at you again "You can do that?"

You frowned. "Yes."

"Legally?"

"Yes."

"Internationally?"

"Yes."

A pause. "That's a very large amount of authority."

You shrugged. "It's my job." He looked back down at his notes. "I think your job is more complicated than mine."

Out of all of the insane tasks Stratt has given you, this one really took the cake. Breaking out a convict to help save humanity? Yeah, definitely a normal day in Stratt's ship.

"Dr. Redell is brilliant," Stratt says, killing off the silence that was growing as you slowly realize the task at hand. "He is also the reason seven people are dead."

"I don't trust him." Grace interrupts.

She looked at Grace. "But I trust his work."

"So, in short." You look down at your notes. "I break out an engineer convicted of culpable homicide from prison and handle all the legal logistics stuff..."

"...so that we have enough fuel to power astrophage reproduction and create 2.4 million kilograms of it." Grace adds, also looking down at his notes.

"Yes." Stratt replies.

"Great," you stand up. "Easy enough."

Grace looks up at you while Stratt packs up the conference room for another meeting. "How is breaking someone who has a life sentence out of prison easy?"

"It's a joke, Dr. Grace." You cleaned up your belongings and started heading out of the conference room.

You stop in the middle of your step, realizing something, "Stratt, question." You turn to look at Stratt, who was typing away at her laptop, sipping her second cup of coffee.

She hums as a reply. "Why aren't you the one breaking the guy out of prison?" Your question made Grace and the guards freeze.

Grace looked between the two of you.

He wasn't sure what surprised him more — the fact that you questioned Stratt, or the fact that Stratt didn't immediately shut you down.

Stratt never really looked up from her laptop, simply replying with, "You have a third of my authority. Use it." She takes another sip of her coffee. "I have meetings with—"

"With other scientists and engineers regarding the Hail Mary. Yeah, I read it from your schedule." You cut her off, surprising Grace with how you're still alive.

"Go along now." Stratt orders, and both of you head towards the lab that Stratt had assigned to Grace.

As you placed your bag on the lab's cold, metal bench, Grace spoke up. "So..."

You glanced at him, "So?"

"You can apparently negotiate pardons." He slowly puts on his lab coat.

"Apparently."

"And coordinate with multiple countries?"

"Yes." You answer as you spill out your belongings on your desk.

"And Stratt trusts you."

You stopped arranging your things and looked at him, "Is there a question there, Dr. Grace?"

Grace shrugs and claps his hands after putting on his gloves. You sit down at your desk, and he heads to the lab proper. You press the microphone beside you, turning it on to communicate with the scientist in the laboratory.

"Alright." You open your laptop. "When can you finish the experiments so we can fly to New Zealand?"

Grace stops setting up his equipment and looks at you through the laboratory's glass. The word 'fly' simply sent shivers down his spine after almost passing out multiple times in a fighter jet yesterday. "Why on Earth would we need to fly to New Zealand?"

You look directly at him through the glass. "...to collect Dr. Redell. Duh."

He opens a pack of Twizzlers and puts one in his mouth. "Can you give me one week?"

"One week is simply too long." You type away at your keyboard. "And you're obviously trying to stall flying."

Grace sighs. "Try flying across the world in a fighter jet!"

"I've already done that."

Two days have passed since you and Grace were paired together. You finalized all of the details you need to collect Dr. Redell from Auckland Prison in New Zealand.

Now, all you need is to convince Dr. Ryland Grace to go with you.

"Put this on. We're going to New Zealand." You plop down a flight suit on Grace's desk, making him jump.

Grace looked at the flight suit. Then at you. Then back at the flight suit. "I feel like we skipped an important part of the conversation."

You gave him a look that he immediately understood.

He groans, knowing this day would eventually come. "Right now?"

"Yes. Meet me at the runway in five minutes." You walk away, making Grace question what he was doing with his life.

He looked at the flight suit in his hands.

Two days ago, he had been teaching middle school.

Somehow, he was now preparing to fly internationally to retrieve a convicted engineer because humanity needed fuel.

He finally meets up with you on the runway, full suit on. You jump into the fighter jet you ordered to pick you up. Grace immediately clocks the jet as the same jet he rode three days ago.

"Oh. I am not going."

"Do you want the fuel for your astrophage reproduction or not?" And against his own will, he gets into the fighter jet with you.

The next hour was filled with muffled screams of Grace next to you while you thought about how to get the engineer out of prison. Then you suddenly remembered that you forgot to give Grace anti-nausea medication.

You glanced over at him once you touched down in New Zealand. The scientist was pale again, and you made a mental note to never forget the medication twice.

You immediately head towards Auckland Prison. Everything was going according to your plan, but you didn't expect that the thing that would disrupt your plans was an extremely stubborn guard at the entrance.

"Please. I ask you once again." The guard sighs. "I understand your clearance, ma'am. But it is procedure for us to pat down every guest."

"I'm aware."

Grace looked between you and the guard.

He had spent the last hour inside a fighter jet, survived your travel schedule, and now he was standing outside a prison entrance arguing about security procedures.

"I'll go first."

He goes through security and gets a pat-down. Unsurprisingly, the guards find nothing on him. It was now your turn—again.

You sigh in annoyance and hand the guards your ID. The guard reads your name and your position in accordance with Project Hail Mary.

The guard hands back your ID slowly, now letting you pass through the metal detector—no pat-downs.

Grace whispers to you as you head towards the visitation room of Dr. Redell. "You know, most people would be upset about going through security after having that level of clearance."

You looked at him. "Most people don't work with Stratt."

You and Grace sat down, with Dr. Redell on the other side of the glass in handcuffs. "What do you need?" His raspy voice asked.

"You are getting released today, and we are taking you to Eva Stratt's ship…" You dropped the bomb on him, just as Stratt ordered.

Grace was as surprised as Dr. Redell. "I— I'm sorry. What?"

You explained to him the mission at hand and what was at stake. You did your best to withhold information that was classified while Grace sat quietly beside you. Dr Redell's face contorted and twisted in all kinds of emotions.

Redell stared at you. "You understand what you're asking, right?"

You tilted your head slightly.

"You are asking me to walk out of prison and build something that could determine the survival of humanity."

"Sorry about the sudden information." Grace apologizes quietly.

Redell stared into the wall. "You know what happened the last time someone trusted my work?" A short silence followed.

"Seven people died because of my work." He warns.

"I know." You exhale as you hand the officer the papers with more importance than anyone could've ever imagined. "Eva Stratt trusted you to finish what you started."

Redell looked at you. "Do you?"

The question caught you off guard. Because the answer wasn't as simple as Stratt's.

You pause for a bit. Grace didn't say anything, but you noticed his eyes flick toward you. He noticed. Of course he noticed.

"Your work," You finally replied. "Yes."

A pause. "The rest..." You glanced down at the documents. "That's something you'll have to prove."

The next few hours were followed by multiple pieces of paperwork inside the chief officer's office. As you were signing papers for Dr Redell's release, Grace gave the officers an awkward smile. "Sorry for the trouble."

One of the officers blinked. After everything they had witnessed, this was somehow the strangest part of their careers.

As you walked out of the prison, Grace looked at you. "So..."

You already knew that tone of his, "No."

"I didn't even ask anything."

"You were going to." You look at him, standing next to you.

"I was going to ask if you always casually release convicted engineers from prison." He looks at you, a soft smile on his lips.

"Only when humanity is ending."

Grace nodded slowly. "Good to know that's your limit."

You fly back to Stratt's ship. Grace is finding new ways to say 'I hate flying in a fighter jet' next to you. And Dr. Redell flew in a separate fighter jet for safety reasons.

As you hopped down the jet, you were met with different staff asking for your clearance and signature on documents. Grace slowly followed behind you, puking in an inverted traffic cone.

You reach the door of Stratt's conference room and stop to look at Grace. "You okay?"

He looked up, one hand on the wall to ground him. "Y-yeah.." His cheeks immediately puffed up. "One second." He managed to mumble as he ran towards the nearest bathroom.

The interaction left you with a small smile as you entered the conference room. "Dr. Grace will enter in a few minutes. He just needs time to uh—"

"I understand." Stratt looked at the empty doorway.

"The fighter jet was unnecessary."

You looked at her. "You were the one who approved it."

"Yes."

A pause. "It was still unnecessary."

You didn't notice that you were still slightly smiling while sitting down next to Stratt. She watched you for a moment. "You're smiling."

Your expression immediately disappeared. "No, I'm not."

After a few minutes, Grace and Rendell entered the room as promised and sat down to listen to Stratt.

Stratt looked at the three people in front of her.

The engineer she had pulled out of prison. The scientist who was responsible for saving humanity. Her second-in-command, who somehow looked the least stressed.

"Good. We're all here."

The meeting consisted of Stratt explaining the mission further. You could only imagine the things running through Dr. Redell's mind right now.

Evening finally falls over the ship as you clock out of work and head towards the highest point of the ship to breathe.

The silent sounds of the ocean, the birds flying across the sky, and the shine of the moon calm you down. After a stressful day at work, you retreat to this spot.

You hear faint footsteps emerging behind you, and you look over your shoulder. Grace stood a few feet away, hands shoved into the pockets of his cardigan.

"Hey." He greets you in a tone you haven't heard from him yet.

"Hi." Your response came out softer than you intended.

"Couldn't sleep?" He leans on the railings a few feet away from you.

You stare at him. "Humanity is dying."

He pouts, slightly nodding. "Fair point."

Silence immediately followed as both of you looked at the view of the ocean. The sound of waves crashing on the side of the ship calmed you down.

"You come up here often?" Grace says as quietly as possible.

"Most nights."

"Why?" He turns to you.

You looked out over the ocean and leaned your cheek to your hand. "Because nobody can find me."

You can see Grace looking at you a second too long in your peripheral vision before looking out into the ocean. He expected for you to add something else to your reply but was met with another wave of silence.

"You're quieter up here." He says, still looking out into the view.

"I'm always quiet."

Grace snorted. "No."

You looked at him, confused. "No?"

"At work, you're terrifying."

The thought of people being terrified of you made you laugh. A real laugh—one you hadn't heard from yourself in a while. Not because you enjoyed it. But because nobody had ever actually said it to your face.

"You're the first person who's told me that."

Grace looked genuinely surprised. "Really?"

"Most people are too scared."

"I wasn't." Grace leaned against the railing.

You looked at him. "You called me a babysitter."

Grace smiled. "Yeah." A pause. "And for the record, I don't think they're scared of you."

"No?"

"I think they're scared of disappointing you."

You smile at him weakly, his words slowly sinking in. You look back at the ocean for the last time.

It's quiet.

Just how you like it.

"Goodnight, Grace." You properly stood up.

He smiles back at you, wishing you goodnight as well.

"Don't tell other people about my spot." You tell him as you walk to your dormitory.

You could hear him giggle. "So I get special access?"

You didn't really answer him, but you just nodded to yourself as you went down the stairs.

The next few weeks blurred together.

Between Dr. Redell's engineering requirements, international negotiations, and Stratt's ever-growing list of impossible demands, sleep became something you vaguely remembered experiencing.

Your days consisted of conference calls with people who had entire countries behind their names, signing documents that could change the course of history, and somehow convincing officials that releasing a convicted engineer was a reasonable thing to do.

The most frustrating part was that every problem somehow became your problem. A missing component? Your problem.

A country refusing to approve the use of certain technology? Your problem.

A disagreement between engineers over the design specifications? Somehow, also your problem.

Grace had initially thought Stratt was the terrifying one. He was beginning to realize he had been wrong.

Stratt was terrifying because she was impossible to argue with.

You were terrifying because people actually listened when you argued back.

One day, Grace walked into your office while you were in the middle of a call. He had originally come to ask about one of Redell's equipment requests, but stopped the moment he heard your voice.

"No, Minister, I understand your concerns."

You were sitting behind your desk, one hand scrolling through documents while the other held your phone.

"Unfortunately, we don't have three months for approval." A pause.

"No, I'm not dismissing the importance of your regulations. I'm explaining the importance of time."

Grace quietly leaned against the doorframe, watching. You looked completely different from the person who stood beside him on the ship's observation deck.

Up there, you were quiet. Calm. Almost impossible to read.

Here, you were something else entirely. Sharp. Confident. Unshakable.

"We have approximately a planet's lifespan to solve this problem. So unless your government has discovered a way to negotiate with extinction, I suggest we continue."

A long silence followed.

Then: "Thank you. I will expect the signed documents by tomorrow morning."

You ended the call. Only then did you notice Grace standing there.

You stared at him. "What?"

"Nothing."

"You were definitely thinking something."

Grace walked further into the room, a small smile forming on his face.

"I was just wondering how many people you've casually threatened with the end of the world."

You crossed your arms, leaning against the wall beside your desk.

"I don't threaten people."

"You told a government official that humanity would die if they didn't sign a paper."

"That was a fact."

"Terrifyingly effective fact."

You rolled your eyes, but he noticed the small smile you tried to hide.

After weeks of nonstop work, your thoroughly thought-out plan cracked one after another. A country delays sending a critical component. A shipment was lost. A legal agreement falls apart. A design change means they have to restart weeks of planning.

Everyone immediately turns towards Stratt at first. When all of the intimidating and major problems have been settled by Stratt, she assigns you the task of actually making it work. “Fix it.” “Handle it.” “Figure it out.”

Grace watches it unfold.

He sees Stratt give you another next-to-impossible task, and you just say: “Understood.” Like always.

“We don’t have time for exhaustion.” Stratt’s voice was stern.

And with every strength of your body you reply, “I know.” 

Everyone sees the competent second-in-command. Grace sees the person underneath. Grace notices your hands shaking for the first time. 

But later that night, Grace walks past your dorm and hears something. Not loud crying. Not dramatic.

Just someone trying really hard not to make a noise.

He stops because it doesn’t sound like you. 

You are the person who calmly tells ministers and presidents they have a deadline. The person who argues with Stratt. The person who doesn’t even flinch during crises.

He had never heard you sound so small.

Grace doesn’t immediately enter, because this is the same person who told him: “Because nobody can find me.” So he understand your hiding place. 

Instead, he sits outside your door. Not knocking. Not forcing you to talk. Just there.

A few minutes pass, and he hears your voice through the door. “Grace?” He lifts his head, noticing your voice is quiet.

“You know you’re terrible at hiding, right?” 

A pause follows, then he replies, “Ironic coming from the person whose favorite place is somewhere nobody can find her.” And that’s when you realize he knew.

He slowly turns the doorknob to your room. His figure slowly showed itself from the doorway, and you immediately wipe your face and sit straight up in your bed. “I’m fine.”

“No.” He gently closed the door behind him, standing just at the entrance of your small and cramped dormitory. 

“Grace.” You realized you’ve been calling him Grace for weeks now. Not Dr. Grace.

“No, seriously.” And for once, he isn’t joking.

“You don’t have to convince me you’re okay.”

You look away, pretending to be look at your very interesting contents of your nightstand. “Everyone else needs me to be.”

For once, Grace doesn’t immediately have a joke. Because he understands—Maybe too well.

He had spent weeks being told the same thing in different ways. “You’re humanity’s best chance.” “You have to figure this out.”

But the difference was, people told him he was important. People told you that you were responsible. And those were two completely different things.

Grace slowly walks further into the room, careful not to make any sudden movements. Like approaching a scared animal. Except he knows if he says that out loud, you would probably throw something at him. 

“You know what’s funny?” he says quietly.

You glance at him.

“I thought Stratt was the scariest person on this ship.” 

Despite yourself, you almost smile. “You still think that.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t”

That makes you look at him, because you know exactly what he means.

“Everyone listens to Stratt because they’re afraid of what happens if they don’t.” He pauses.

“They listen to you because they trust that you’ll figure it out.”

You look down. “That sounds like a compliment.”

“It is.”

“Feels like a lot of pressure.”

Grace's expression softens. “Yeah.”

A silence settles between you. Not uncomfortable—Just honest.

Then: “You know, when I first got here, I thought you were terrifying.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You have mentioned this multiple times.”

“I'm aware. It's a very important scientific observation.”

“You're impossible.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn't a compliment.” 

“I know.”

And for a second, you almost laugh. Almost. But then your expression falls again. “I don't know what happens if I fail, Grace.”

The use of his name makes him stop. Not Dr. Grace—Just Grace.

“I know everyone says humanity depends on this mission, but..." You swallow. "...what if I'm the reason it doesn't work?"

And this is where Grace realizes something.

The person who could negotiate with entire governments. The person who could walk into Stratt's office and argue with her. The person everyone viewed as impossible to break. Was terrified of disappointing everyone.

Instead of words of encouragement you expected from Grace he asks you a question “You know what I realized?”

“What?”

“You’re really bad at giving yourself the same patience you give everyone else.”

You look at him with puffy eyes and a stuffed nose. “That’s not very useful advice.”

“I didn’t say it was useful. I said it was true.”

Silence immediately followed as Grace looked around your room. The room is exactly like he imagined. Clean. Organized. Practical. No personal things.

He realizes that you built your entire life around being useful. Not happy. Useful.

“You should sleep.” He finally breaks the silence.

You give him a tired look. “That's rich coming from someone who spent three days studying astrophage without sleeping.”

Grace points at you. “See? This is exactly what I'm talking about.”

“What?”

“You deflect.”

“I do not.”

“You absolutely do.”

A small smile appears on your face. The first real one in hours. Grace notices, but he doesn't mention it. He just sits down on the floor beside your bed. You stare at him. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you sleep.”

“You're sitting on my floor.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because apparently nobody can find you here.” A pause. “And someone should”

You stare at him sitting on the floor. "You're ridiculous."

"Probably."

"You have a lab waiting for you."

"The astrophage isn't going anywhere."

You raise an eyebrow. "That's a bold statement from someone who has spent the last three weeks acting like it might disappear if he stops looking at it."

"Okay, fair."

He adjusts his position against the wall.

"But for tonight, the project can survive without us."

~

The next morning rolled around, and you turned over to see your empty floor. You didn’t remember much of last night. You just remembered dozing off as Grace played with his cardigan’s edges on your floor. 

You sigh as you get up and get ready for the day. As you opened the door to the conference room and passed by Grace.

“Good morning” He greets you with a smile

“Good morning, Dr. Grace.” He pauses. Dr Grace. Not Grace.

The meeting was a status update on the ship. It was around eighty percent done, according to the reports of the engineers who worked on it.

Suddenly, a legal problem arises. You looked at your copy of Stratt’s schedule, and it was absolutely packed. And without a beat, you grab the problem so that Stratt had less to worry about. “I’ll handle it.”

Grace looks up immediately, interrupting you. “No.”

Everyone turns their attention to the scientist who just interrupted the second-in-command. You slowly look at him. “...Excuse me?”

Grace immediately realizes he just challenged you in front of everyone. "I mean— statistically speaking—" 

You narrow your eyes. “You’re making this worse.”

“I know,” He lowers his voice. 

Everyone in the conference room was shocked because they have never seen anybody other than Stratt talk to you like that.

After the meeting, Stratt asks you to stay after everyone left. Once the room was empty, with just you and Stratt, she asked. “Dr Grace seems to have developed an unusual influence over you.” 

You immediately tensed up, your stomach surprisingly feeling like it just dropped to the ground. “He is useful.” You manage to blurt out.

Stratt raises an eyebrow. “That was not my question.”

A few nights later, you find yourself standing at the observation deck again. Except this time, you hear footsteps behind you. You don’t turn around. “You’re getting predictable, Grace.”

“I prefer consistent.”

A small smile forms. "I never said you could come here whenever you want."

He stops right beside you. "No." A pause. "But you didn't tell me to leave."

You look at him, and he's right.

“And I definitely did not see you nodding to yourself when I asked the first night I found you here.” He smiles and looks out into the ocean. 

Your eyes widen, not expecting him to actually see you nod to yourself. “So you were looking at me that night?”

“Observing.” He replied a second too fast. 

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s a concerning answer.” You looked back toward the ocean.

The strange thing wasn't that Grace kept showing up. The strange thing was that you'd started expecting him to.

A month ago, this place had belonged to you. Now, whenever you climbed the stairs, part of you automatically listened for a second set of footsteps. You weren't sure when that had happened.

You close your eyes. The sound of the waves danced with the thought of you being partly responsible for humanity’s survival in your head. Just a few more months, you thought to yourself.

A few more months of stress, and then this can finally be over.

You hope.

“You know,” Grace breaks the comforting silence.

You turn to face him, your hair dancing in the ocean breeze.

“I worry about you,” he said quietly.

The words hit harder than they should have. Not because nobody worried; people worried all the time—the mission, deadlines, or whether you could solve their problem…

Grace was the first person who seemed worried about you.

For a moment, the only sound was the ocean. You looked away first. “That’s a terrible use of your time.”

The response came automatically. Deflection. The same thing he'd accused you of doing the other night.

Grace sighed. "See?"

You groaned quietly. "I hate that you've started noticing when I do that."

"I know."

"Stop it."

"No." That earned a reluctant smile from you.

Grace leaned against the railing, watching the horizon. "You know what everyone says about you?"

You immediately looked suspicious. "That sounds dangerous."

"Probably."

"Grace."

He pointed at the ship behind you. "They all think you're impossible." You frowned. "That's not true."

"It is."

"I'm standing right here."

"Exactly."

You rolled your eyes. "Very convincing argument."

Grace laughed softly before his expression settled again. "Nobody ever asks if you're okay."

The words landed harder than the first ones, because he was right. People asked for approvals. Signatures. Clearances. Solutions.

Nobody asked if you were okay.

Not because they didn't care. Because somewhere along the way, everyone had started assuming you always would be.

"You don't have to keep doing that, you know."

You looked at him. "Doing what?"

"Acting like you're carrying all of this alone."

You stared out at the ocean. The moon reflected across the water in a silver line stretching all the way to the horizon. "Someone has to."

Grace shook his head. "No."

His voice was quiet. Certain. "They just convinced you that it has to be you."

You didn't have an answer for that, which was annoying. Because Grace usually gave you plenty of things to argue with. Tonight wasn't one of those nights.

A comfortable silence settled between you again. After a while, Grace spoke. "For the record..."

You already knew that tone.

"What?"

"I still think you're terrifying."

You laughed.

A real one this time.

And for some reason, that seemed to make him smile more than the joke itself.

“Thank you, Ryland.” You told him once the both of you settled down from the laughter. 

Grace was taken aback by the sudden change of nickname. He had never heard anyone on this ship call him by his first name.

“I thought Stratt gave me a babysitting job when I was assigned to you.” You step closer to Grace, your shoulders now touching. “Turns out, you were the answer to make things easier on the ship for me.”

Grace went unusually still beside you.

The ocean continued crashing against the side of the ship below, but for a moment it felt strangely distant.

"Wow."

You frowned. "What?"

He looked at you. "I spend weeks trying to convince you to take breaks, and suddenly you decide to say something nice?"

You immediately regretted speaking. "Forget I said anything."

"Absolutely not."

You groaned and leaned against the railing. "Ryland."

"Nope."

"It wasn't even that nice."

"It was to me." The reply came so quickly that you weren't prepared for it.

Neither was he, judging by the way he suddenly became very interested in the ocean.

A silence followed. Not awkward. Just different. Softer.

You found yourself studying his profile in the moonlight. The cardigan. The messy hair. The scientist who somehow kept appearing whenever your world felt like it was falling apart. The scientist who sat on your dorm floor until you fell asleep.

The scientist who worried about you.

"You know," you said quietly.

"You're significantly less annoying than when I met you."

Grace looked horrified. "That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"That's concerning."

"I'm framing it."

"You can't frame a conversation."

"Watch me." Grace poked your side, making you jump.

You let out a short giggle, and he smiled at you softly. “What was your favorite subject in school?” 

“What?”

“What?” 

“Why would you ask that?” You narrowed your eyes.

“Because I realized that I know your clearance level, blood type, and probably your Social Security number.” 

You smack his arm. “You do not know my Social Security number.

“I could probably get it.” You were about to speak, but he immediately follows up. “But I don’t know your favorite color.”

Ryland Grace has made you silent once again.

Nobody had asked you normal and mundane questions in years. People asked what you could do. What problem you could solve. Whether you could get approval from a government halfway across the world before morning.

Not who you were.

The realization sat strangely in your chest. Grace noticed your hesitation immediately. "Oh no."

You blinked. "What?"

"You don't know."

"I know my favorite color."

"That was not a confident response."

You rolled your eyes. "It's (insert your favorite color here)."

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You made that up."

"I did not."

"You took too long."

"I haven't been asked that question since I was fourteen."

Grace stared at you for a second before laughing. "That's actually kind of sad."

You pointed at him. "Careful."

"Or what?"

"I'll tell Stratt you're wasting company time."

He gasped dramatically. "You wouldn't."

"I absolutely would."

"You've changed."

"You called me terrifying."

"You are terrifying."

You found yourself smiling again. The conversation should have ended there. Instead, Grace leaned his elbows on the railing. "Favorite movie?"

"What is this?"

"A conversation."

"It feels like an interrogation."

"That's because you're terrible at being interviewed."

You groaned. "Fine."

And somehow the next hour passed like that. Favorite movie. Favorite food. Favorite season. The first thing you wanted to be when you were a kid. The worst haircut you ever had.

Questions so ordinary they felt foreign. Questions nobody had cared enough to ask.

At some point, you realized you were answering without hesitation. Grace stopped looking at the ocean and started looking at you.

Suddenly you noticed small parts of him that made him human. The slight citrus scent of his soap, the red watch he had on his right wrist, a mole near his left eye, how he periodically wipes his stubble under his nose.

At some point, you stopped checking the time.

And when you finally glanced at your watch, your eyes widened. "Ryland."

He immediately looked concerned. "What happened?"

"It's almost midnight."

He blinked. "Oh."

Both of you stared at each other. Neither of you had noticed. For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then Grace smiled. The soft kind. The one he only seemed to wear when it was just the two of you. "Look at that."

"What?"

"You took a break."

And somehow that made your chest ache more than all the serious conversations you'd had tonight. Because for the first time in weeks, you hadn't spent an hour being humanity's second-in-command.

You had just been you.

And somehow, Ryland Grace had made that happen without you even noticing.

The months have been absolute torture for everyone working on Project Hail Mary. But as you said, everything was made easier with Ryland Grace by your side. He was there with you and Stratt for every big scientific breakthrough and important meetings.

He’s practically the second second-in-command, which you don’t mind sharing the position.

The bond between the two of you also grew. Nights on the observation deck practically became a routine for the both of you. A chance to wind down and take a breather from all of the paperwork and experiments.

A month was left before the ship get sent off to space, and Stratt arranged a party room for the staff on board. “To shake off the nerves,” she said.

Four weeks of complete partying for the staff, including you and Ryland; which are people who are not the type to party around—but could definitely use a drink or two.

Exactly a week before take off you managed to drag Ryland into the room. You didn’t know what came over you but you wanted to have fun, even just for a bit. 

He sat down by the bar with his notebook and beer in front of him. You socialized with the people you’ve been working with for years. They have never seen you this extroverted before.

Perhaps someone really do bring out the best in you. 

They witnessed you talking, smiling, joking around, and actually enjoying yourself. A version of yourself you’ve never let anyone on the ship see until now. 

Grace watches you, smiling at himself, realizing that you’re finally letting your guard down after years of pent-up stress. The two of you exchanged a few glances across the room, nodding and smiling at each other every time. 

And your stomach did the weird flipping thing every time, too.

You decided to ignore that. It was probably the alcohol. Or exhaustion. Or the fact that you had spent the last few months sleeping less than a healthy person should.

It was definitely not because Ryland Grace was standing across the room, smiling at you like you were the most interesting thing he had seen all night.

Definitely not.

"You're smiling." You immediately turned around. One of your coworkers stood beside you, holding a drink and looking far too amused.

"I am not."

They raised an eyebrow. "You are."

You looked back toward the room, where Grace was now explaining something to another scientist, his hands moving animatedly as he talked.

The same scientist who used to complain every time you dragged him into a fighter jet.

The same scientist who once called you his babysitter.

The same scientist who sat outside your door because he knew you didn't want to be alone.

"I think he's good for you." The statement caught you off guard.

You looked at them. "What?"

Your coworker shrugged. "Nobody has seen you like this before."

You looked down at your drink. "Like what?"

"Happy."

The answer was so simple that it almost bothered you. Because it was true.

Grace had seen you in almost every possible situation. He had seen you argue with government officials. He had seen you negotiate impossible deals. He had seen you walk into Stratt's office and challenge the most intimidating woman on Earth.

He had seen you cry. He had seen you exhausted. He had seen you scared. But he had never seen this.

You laughing. Actually laughing. Not the small amused smiles you gave him when he made a joke. Not the quiet smiles you tried to hide.

A real one.

The kind that made people around you smile too.

And maybe that was the moment Grace realized something.

He had spent months thinking his job was to make things easier for you. To help you carry the weight.

But somewhere along the way, he had started looking forward to the moments when you didn't need him to.

When you were just happy. And that was a problem. A very scientific problem. Except, unfortunately, there was no obvious experiment to solve it.

The music slowed down, and Stratt took the mic in front of everyone. Everyone thought that she was about to give a speech or an announcement.

They did not expect her to sing.

Everyone was cheering and raising their glass as the normally composed and serious commander sang into the mic. Finally seeing your boss tone down and forget the mission for a bit warmed your heart. It truly did.

By the end of the song, she looks at you and Ryland and nods, acknowledging all of the work both of you endured for the project. The two of you raise your glasses, smiling as she left the room.

The room slowly returned to its usual noise after Stratt left the microphone.

People laughed. Drinks were raised. Someone started arguing about whether the song choice was actually good or if everyone was just too terrified to tell Stratt otherwise.

For once, nobody was talking about astrophage. Nobody was talking about Tau Ceti. Nobody was talking about the possibility that they might fail.

They were just people.

You looked around the room, almost unable to recognize it. A month ago, this place would have felt unnecessary. A distraction. A waste of valuable time.

Now, you understood why Stratt had done it. Everyone needed a reminder of what they were fighting for. Not just humanity.

Each other.

A song started playing, and a few people moved toward the open space in the middle of the room.

Grace watched them. Then watched you.

"No." You immediately narrowed your eyes, looking at him.

"I didn't say anything." 

"You were about to."

"I was just observing."

"You learned nothing from me saying that answer is suspicious."

He smiled.

"Would you dance with me?"

You stared.

The scientist who hated flying. The scientist who complained about fighter jets. The scientist who once needed anti-nausea medication just to survive a trip across countries…

…was asking you to dance.

"Ryland."

"Yes?"

"You know I don't dance."

"Do you know that, or did you decide that because nobody asked?" You hated that he was getting good at this.

Before you could come up with a response, he extended his hand. "Come on."

You stared at it. Then at him. "Ryland."

"Yes?"

"I am not dancing."

"You already said that."

"Because it's true."

"And yet you're still standing here."

You looked down at his hand. It was ridiculous. Completely ridiculous.

You were standing in a room full of engineers, scientists, and people who had spent months working on humanity's survival. You had negotiated with governments. You had handled crises that made entire organizations panic.

And somehow, this was the thing making you hesitate.

A hand.

A dance.

A moment where nobody needed anything from you.

With every embarrassed cell in your body screaming at you to retreat, you finally placed your hand in his.

Grace smiled immediately. Not a teasing smile. Not the amused one he usually wore when he caught you avoiding something.

A genuine one.

And somehow, that was worse.

"Don't make a big deal out of this."

"I didn't say anything."

"Your face did."

"My face is very supportive."

"Your face is annoying."

"Also supportive."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't stop the small smile forming. The next thing you knew, both of you were standing in the middle of the room.

His hands rested carefully on your waist, almost like he was afraid you would decide this was a mistake and walk away. Your arms rested on his shoulders, your fingers lightly gripping the fabric of his cardigan.

The dance was awkward, at best.

Grace was clearly overthinking every movement. You were clearly overthinking every movement.

At one point, both of you stepped in the same direction and nearly collided.

You immediately pulled back. "Sorry."

"You apologized?"

"You almost fell."

"Because you stepped on my foot."

He paused. "...I did?"

"You did."

You looked genuinely offended. "I have negotiated international agreements, and I can't even dance?"

Grace laughed. A real laugh. "You are comparing diplomacy to moving your feet to music?"

"Both require coordination."

"That is not how dancing works."

"Clearly." He shook his head, still smiling.

And somehow, the awkwardness stopped mattering. Because for once, you weren't trying to be good at something. You weren't trying to prove that you deserved your place on this ship.

You were just standing there with Ryland Grace, moving badly to a song neither of you would remember tomorrow.

And it was enough.

"You know," Grace said quietly.

You looked at him. "What?"

"I'm glad you came tonight."

The words were simple. But they meant more than they should have. Because a few months ago, you would've found an excuse not to come. A few months ago, you would've said there was work to do. A few months ago, you would've stayed in your office until someone forced you to leave.

Instead, you were here. Dancing badly. Laughing. Existing.

"I am too," you admitted.

Grace's expression softened, and neither of you said anything else.

You didn't need to.

~

“Three days, huh?” Stratt looked at Grace, coffee in hand. 

He paused for a bit. Processing that months of tortuous work is finally coming to a conclusion. “Yeah.” He looked down at his coffee. “What are you gonna do for the next twenty years? You got a plan?”

Stratt smiles softly as explosions blew behind her. The shockwave putting Stratt and Grace on to their backs.

She immediately gets up and runs towards where the explosion had come from. Pulling out a phone to dial you. Grace was following close behind her. 

Your main office on the mainland was significantly closer to the astrophage facility where the explosion had come from.

The phone barely rang once before you answered. "Stratt."

Your voice was already moving before she could say anything. She looked at Grace for a moment, almost surprised by how quickly you had responded. "There's been an incident at the astrophage facility."

"Casualties?"

"Unknown."

"What caused it?"

"We're still determining that." You were already standing.

Grace could hear the sound of movement on the other end of the call. "Send me the latest reports." Stratt orders.

"You are not going there." The words came immediately. Both Grace and Stratt froze slightly.

Because that wasn't the voice of someone asking. That was the voice of someone who had already made a decision.

"I'm closer."

"That doesn't matter." Stratt says sternly.

"It does."

Stratt replied to you with your name. The use of your name made Grace look at Stratt. He had heard Stratt call people by their names before, but never like that.

Not as an order. As a warning. You didn't answer immediately. Then: "How bad?"

Stratt looked toward the smoke rising in the distance.

"We don't know yet."

A pause.

And then your voice became quieter. "Send me the information anyway."

Grace and Stratt saw the small silhouette of you running towards the facility in the distance. Grace watches Stratt hang up. 

"What happened?"

Stratt looks at him. "The facility had an accident."

His stomach drops. "An accident?"

She doesn't answer.

Because both of them know what that word means in a project like this. An accident can mean delays, failure. An accident can mean people don't come home.

Guards tackle you to the ground, restricting you to go nearer the facility. Grace saw this unfold in the far distance and immediately takes off towards you. “Grace!” Stratt calls him.

He arrives and you were already standing up and staring at the ruined facility as the smoke comes down. He notices your hands. The same thing from before. The shaking but this time is worse.

He quietly steps beside you. “Hey.” 

You don’t look at him. “Now now, Grace.”

Normally he would listen and step back, but he knows you. “You know exactly what you said last time.” 

That makes you look at him, and he gives you the same expression he had when he sat outside your dormitory months ago.

Grace escorts you to a safer facility, his hand intertwined with yours to keep you grounded. 

Normally, you would have made a comment about how unnecessary it was. About how you were perfectly capable of walking on your own. About how there were probably dozens of more important things he should be doing.

But right now, you didn't. Because your mind was somewhere else.

It was inside that facility. With every machine. Every calculation. Every hour you spent making sure this project stayed alive.

Three days before launch. And suddenly, everything you had built felt like it was slipping through your fingers.

You stared at the walls as you walked.

A clipboard.

A broken piece of equipment.

A scientist rushing past.

Everything became something else.

Something that could be evidence.

Something that could mean failure.

"Hey."

You didn't respond.

Grace squeezed your hand slightly. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind you that you were there. "You're doing it again."

Your eyes slowly moved toward him. "Doing what?"

"Leaving." The answer catches you off guard.

"What?"

"You're here." He gestures around you. "But your brain is already in that building trying to solve every possible outcome."

You looked away.

Because he was right. Again. You hated how often he was right.

"I don't have time for this."

Grace's expression softened. "For what?"

You looked at him. "For being scared." The words came out quieter than you intended.

And for once, Grace didn't joke. He just looked at you.

You swallowed. "Three days, Grace."

"I know."

"Three days."

"I know."

"And if we can't fix this—"

"We will."

You looked at him sharply. "You don't know that."

"No." The honesty surprised you.

"I don't." A pause. "But I know you."

You stayed quiet. "I've watched you solve problems nobody thought were solvable. I've watched you convince people who didn't want to listen. I've watched you make impossible things happen."

His thumb moved slightly against your hand.

"You don't get to decide this is the one thing you can't handle before you even try."

You finally caught up with Stratt in a nearby facility, and you immediately straightened.

Grace noticed the mask returning. The second-in-command returning. He hesitated before letting go of your hand to let you walk beside Stratt.

A scientist hands everyone reports. Everyone’s heart dropped with every word they read. Grace could only imagine what was going through your mind at this moment. 

“One nanogram of Astrophage just— isn’t enough to blow up a building.” He explains to Dr. Lokken. 

“Someone must have given him one milligram.” Dr. Lokken pauses. “By mistake.” 

Everyone in the facility’s hallways was letting your group through, walking hastily towards a conference room. 

“A measuring mistake killed my entire science team!” Commander Yao complained, visibly distraught. 

Stratt speaks up next to you, looking forward, serious as ever. “Doesn’t matter we have to launch.”

Everyone finally arrives at the conference room. You simply couldn’t believe that was unfolding. 

“If we miss the orbital window, it’ll set us back months.” Dr Leclerc sets his coffee down onto the table. 

You read the report multiple times. Scanning for a solution to another impossible problem. “Commander Yao,” You speak up, trying to steady your voice. “DuBois is still alive; Shapiro is deceased. We only lost the backup science specialist.” 

Commander Yao was still tense. “Well, what if something happens to DuBois!” He frantically waved his hands around.

“Well…” you trail off, racking your brain for solutions as it is your job for years at this point. “...we find another backup science specialist.” 

“We only have three days!” Ilyukhina reminds you.

“We don’t need to find a backup.” Stratt breaks off the argument that was starting. 

Yao and Ilyukhina look at her, confused. 

She was staring at — something? Someone? You followed her gaze, and it led to…

Ryland Grace.

“We already have one.” 

The room goes silent.

For a moment, Grace doesn't realize everyone is looking at him. Then his eyebrows slowly raise.

“No.”

You glance at him. “Grace—”

“No.” He repeats, pointing at himself. “Absolutely not.”

Stratt remains completely calm. “Dr. Grace.”

“I put the not in astronaut!” He gestures at himself. “That was intentional!”

Nobody says anything. Grace looks around the room, realizing no one is laughing. Because Stratt is serious.

“You are the most qualified backup candidate available.” The word backup seems to catch his attention.

“Backup,” he repeats slowly.

“Yes.”

A small breath leaves him, almost relieved.“Okay. Good. Backup. That’s different.”

You almost smile.Then Stratt continues.

“If Dr. DuBois survives and remains capable of completing the mission, you will remain on Earth as the primary astrophage researcher supporting the project.”

Grace nods quickly. “Right. Exactly. That makes sense.”

He points around the room.

“That is what I was expecting. I solve the problem. I help prepare the mission. I stay here. Everyone is happy.”

A pause.

“But if something happens…”

The room gets quieter. Stratt doesn't answer immediately. She doesn't need to.

Grace understands. His expression changes. Because suddenly the word backup doesn't sound as simple anymore. “You mean I would replace him.”

“Yes.”

Grace looks down. For the first time since you met him, he doesn't have a joke ready.

You notice immediately.

“The Hail Mary needs someone who understands astrophage,” Stratt explains. “Someone who can adapt.”

Grace lets out a quiet laugh, but there is no humor in it. “That's a very terrifying way of saying 'in case everything goes wrong, we need you.'”

“Accurate.”

“Stratt.”

“Dr. Grace.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I understand the logic. I do.” He looks at the reports scattered across the table. “If DuBois is unable to go, the mission cannot continue without a scientist.”

He pauses. “But I was never supposed to be that scientist.”

Nobody answers. Because everyone knows.

You look at him. And for the first time since you met him, Grace doesn't look overwhelmed by the work.

He looks overwhelmed by the possibility. Not by space itself. By the idea that someone's life could suddenly become his responsibility.

“The Hail Mary needs a backup scientist,” Stratt says.

Grace looks at her. “There are thousands of scientists.”

“Not with your understanding of astrophage.”

“That’s what you said before you dragged me into this project.”

“And I was correct.”

He looks away.

Normally, you would let Stratt handle this. Normally, you would stand beside her and support whatever decision needed to be made.

But this isn't a negotiation. This isn't a legal obstacle. This isn't something you can solve with a signature.

This is Ryland Grace.

The man who sat outside your door because he knew you needed someone nearby.

The man who reminded you that you were a person before you were a position.

The man who somehow became the one person on Earth who could tell you to stop carrying everything alone.

“Grace.” Your voice makes him look at you.

Everyone notices. Because nobody calls him that. Not anymore.

You step closer. “You don't have to think about it like that.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Like what?”

“Like you're already being sent.” A small silence. “You're here because you're the best person to have if something goes wrong.”

He looks down. “That’s not exactly comforting.”

“I know.”

A tiny smile appears. “Wow. Very reassuring.”

You almost laugh. “But you don't have to prepare for a disaster that hasn't happened yet.”

Grace looks at you. And maybe that's what makes him listen. Because everyone else in the room is preparing for the worst-case scenario.

You are the only person reminding him that the best-case scenario still exists.

A few moments pass. Then he exhales. “I hate that you're making sense.”

You shrug slightly. “People say that a lot.”

A small smile forms on his face. “Yeah. I noticed.”

The next three days were the most stressful ones of your life. That was saying something, considering everything you had endured for Project Hail Mary. But no negotiation, crisis, or impossible deadline prepared you for the reality that someone you cared about might be the one leaving Earth. 

For Grace, the next three days felt strangely unreal. He had spent months preparing for every possible outcome of the mission. Astrophage calculations. Fuel requirements. Equipment failures. Emergency scenarios. He had memorized numbers, studied data, and prepared himself for every scientific problem that could appear.

But somehow, none of that prepared him for the way you looked at him.

Everyone else saw the backup scientist. The contingency plan. The person who would step in if everything went wrong.

You saw something different.

You saw Ryland.

The man who hated flying. The man who still couldn't believe he had somehow ended up involved in a project that would decide the fate of humanity. The man who preferred teaching kids about science over becoming humanity's last possible option.

And that was what made it harder.

Because Grace knew you.

He knew that you could stand in front of world leaders without hesitation. He knew you could argue with Stratt and walk away alive. He knew you could solve problems that seemed impossible.

But he also knew the person who sat alone on the observation deck because she thought nobody wanted to find her. The person who cried quietly behind a locked door because she thought she had to be strong for everyone else. The person who finally started letting someone stay.

And now he was the person who might leave.

Grace hated that.

Not the mission. Not the science. Not even the possibility of being chosen.

He hated the thought that the one person who had spent months convincing him he didn't have to carry everything alone would now be forced to carry the fear of losing him.

Every time he saw you reviewing launch documents, every time you checked another system report, every time you acted like this was just another task to complete, he noticed.

The small pauses.

The way your eyes lingered on him before looking away.

The way you asked if he needed anything, even when you were clearly the one who needed something.

And for once, Ryland Grace didn't know how to fix it.

He could explain astrophage. He could solve equations. He could teach a classroom full of children about science.

But he couldn't find the right words to tell you that he was scared too.

So he did what he always did.

He stayed.

Even if it was only for three more days.

Launch day finally came.

And to your relief, your prayers were answered. Martin DuBois remained the final scientist assigned to the mission.

You and Ryland had never sighed with relief so deeply before.

For the first time in weeks, the weight sitting on both of your shoulders lifted. Not completely. Never completely. The mission was still happening. Humanity was still depending on three people leaving Earth behind.

But Ryland wasn't going.

Not unless something went wrong. And for once, something had gone right.

The farewell ceremony was overwhelming.

Every major news channel had the livestream running. Every social media platform was filled with messages from people across the world watching the crew prepare for their departure. People who had never met them. People who only knew their names and what they represented.

A chance.

A hope.

A final attempt.

The crew stood together as Stratt delivered her final speech.

She wasn't the intimidating project director everyone knew her as.

Not completely.

Her voice was still firm. Her words were still precise. But underneath it was something you rarely heard from her. Pride.

She spoke about sacrifice. About courage. About the fact that these three people were leaving behind everything they knew for a planet that might never know the full extent of what they gave up.

Commander Yao.

Ilyukhina.

Martin DuBois.

People you had worked alongside for years. People who had spent countless sleepless nights solving problems that seemed impossible. People who had trusted you to make sure every piece of their mission was ready.

One by one, they approached the team before being escorted away.

Yao gave Stratt a firm handshake before turning toward you. "You were difficult to work with."

You raised an eyebrow.

He smiled slightly. "But I would not want anyone else handling this mission."

The words caught you off guard. Coming from Commander Yao, that was practically a declaration of affection.

"You better come back," you told him.

His smile softened. "We'll try."

Ilyukhina was next.

She hugged you before you could prepare yourself for it.

You froze. Physical affection was not something you were used to receiving, especially from people you worked with.

"You worry too much," she told you.

You almost laughed. "That's ironic coming from you."

"Exactly why I know."

Then came DuBois.

The man whose backup status had almost changed the entire course of history. He looked between you and Grace.

"You two caused enough trouble before launch," he joked. "Try not to create more while we're gone."

Grace immediately looked offended. "I was not the trouble."

You looked at him. He paused. "...Okay, sometimes."

For a moment, everything felt normal. Not like a final goodbye. Not like sending people into space.

Just coworkers teasing each other before returning to work.

Maybe that was what made it harder. Because eventually, the jokes ended. The smiles faded. And one by one, they were escorted toward the room that would begin their journey.

The room that would put them to sleep for years.

You stood there watching them leave.

Watching the people you trusted walk toward something none of you could fully understand. And suddenly, everything became too much.

The cameras. The speeches. The cheers from people watching around the world. The knowledge that these three people were carrying every hope humanity had left.

You needed air. You needed silence. You needed somewhere that wasn't filled with people pretending they weren't terrified.

So before anyone could stop you, you left.

The observation deck was exactly how you remembered it.

Quiet.

The ocean stretched endlessly beneath the ship, the waves moving calmly despite the chaos happening above them.

It was strange. How the world could feel so peaceful when everything was changing.

You leaned against the railing.

A few months ago, you came here because nobody could find you. Because nobody knew you needed a moment away.

Now, you weren't sure if you came here because you wanted to be alone.

Or because you knew someone would find you.

You heard familiar footsteps behind you.

You didn’t have to turn around.

“You know,” Grace says quietly, “I’m starting to think this place is less of a secret hideaway and more of a really inconvenient meeting spot.”

A small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself.

“You found it.”

“I did.”

“That was the problem.”

He laughs softly, but it fades quickly.

For a moment, neither of you says anything.

The ship was quieter now. Almost strangely quiet.

For months, this place had been filled with people rushing through corridors, engineers shouting across rooms, scientists arguing over calculations, and Stratt giving impossible orders like they were simple requests.

Now everyone was at the launch site. Everyone was watching. Everyone was saying goodbye.

You looked out at the ocean, trying to process the fact that in a few hours, the Hail Mary would leave Earth.

Without him.

You should have felt relieved.

You did feel relieved.

But there was something else sitting beside it.

Something heavier.

“I thought I’d be happier,” you finally admitted.

Grace looked at you. You hated how quickly he noticed things now. “Happier?”

You nodded slightly. “When DuBois was confirmed. When Stratt told us the mission could continue without you.”

A pause. “I was relieved.”

“Yeah.”

“But…” You didn’t finish the sentence. You didn’t need to.

Grace looked down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his cardigan. “I know.”

Your eyes moved toward him. “I know because I felt the same thing.”

That surprised you. “You did?”

He smiled sadly. “You think I wanted to go?”

The question caught you off guard. “I thought…”

“That I was terrified of not being the one to save everyone?”

You stayed quiet. Grace looked toward the ocean. “I was terrified because I thought everyone had already decided I was going to be something I wasn’t.”

His voice became softer. “The scientist. The solution. The person who fixes everything.”

You looked away. Because you understood. Too well.

“But then I realized something.”

“What?”

He looked at you. “I already had someone doing that.”

Your breath caught slightly. “Grace…”

“You.”

The word was simple. But somehow it carried more weight than anything else he had said.

“You’ve been doing it the entire time.”

You looked down, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “I was just doing my job.”

“No.” His answer came immediately. And it sounded so much like you when you argued with him that it almost made you smile.

“No, you weren’t.”

A silence followed.

Then the alarm from the ship’s communication system interrupted the moment. A launch announcement. Both of you looked up.

It was time.

The launch site was overwhelming. There were cameras everywhere. People everywhere. The entire world was watching. You stood beside Stratt as the crew was brought out one final time before entering the facility.

Commander Yao.

Illyukhina.

DuBois.

People you had spent years working with. People you had argued with, negotiated with, and trusted with the survival of humanity.

You stood there. Still and composed. Like everyone expected you to be. Until you felt someone beside you.

Grace.

He didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to. Because he knew how hard it was to watch people leave. He knew how hard it was to pretend you weren’t scared.

The countdown began.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Your hands tightened slightly. Not because of the launch. Because of everything it represented.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Grace looked at you.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

The engines ignited. The ground shook beneath your feet.

The Hail Mary began its journey.

And for a moment, everything went silent. The cheers. The cameras. The people around you. The entire world watching. None of it mattered.

Because all you could see was the rocket leaving the ground.

The rocket that was supposed to take him.

The rocket you spent months preparing for.

The rocket you had spent months convincing yourself you could watch disappear.

Your breathing became uneven before you even realized it. Because suddenly, all those nights of watching Grace sit beside you on the observation deck came rushing back.

Your hand moved before you could think. You reached for him.

Grace looked down at your hand, then back at your face.

And the expression on his face changed immediately.

Because he knew. He knew this wasn't about the launch.

It wasn't about the mission.

It partly wasn't about humanity.

It was about the fact that for the first time in months, you were allowing yourself to admit how scared you had been.

His fingers intertwined with yours.

And that was it.

That was the thing that finally broke you.

Your shoulders shook slightly, and before you could stop yourself, before you could put the mask back on, you stepped closer.

Into him.

Grace froze for half a second—Not because he didn't want to hold you. Because he had never seen you allow yourself to need someone.

Then his arms wrapped around you. Slowly. Carefully.

Like he was afraid that one wrong movement would make you pull away and pretend this never happened.

You buried your face into his shoulder.

And for the first time in years, you stopped trying to be strong. You cried quietly.

The kind of tears that came from years of exhaustion, fear, and the weight of knowing that someone you cared about was almost sent somewhere you might never see him again.

Grace didn't say anything. He didn't tell you everything would be okay. He didn't give you some impossible promise. He just held you.

Because he understood.

He had spent months being treated like the person who would save everyone. But right now, he wasn't humanity's last hope. He wasn't the scientist who could solve impossible problems.

He was just Ryland.

And you weren't Stratt's second-in-command. You weren't the person everyone turned to when things went wrong.

You were just you.

The rocket continued climbing higher.

The Hail Mary became a smaller and smaller point of light against the sky. And still, neither of you moved. Neither of you cared that Stratt was watching. Neither of you cared that cameras were capturing the moment.

Because after months of preparing for a goodbye that almost happened...

You finally let yourself understand something.

You weren't afraid of him leaving Earth.

You were afraid of a world where Ryland Grace wasn't beside you anymore.

The rocket disappeared. The mission had begun. And somehow, the hardest part wasn't watching him leave.

It was realizing how much you wanted him to stay.