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He had the dream again.
The same dream he had been having at least once a week since leaving Tau Ceti (or so he thought, days had become difficult to keep track of unless he asked Mary to clarify).
The dream- no, nightmare- of dirt burying itself under his nails. Of stains on his knees as he hit the ground hard. The sensation of grass prickling his cheek and rough stones digging into his flesh through cloth.
Of adrenaline coursing through every vein as he desperately squirmed under the multitude of hands pinning him down. A knee digging into his calf, fingers bruising his upper arm where they clamped into place.
"No! Stop, please!" His throat ached from the force he put behind the pleads. "Don't do it! You're murdering me, please! Don't do it!"
The sting of a needle in his neck. The feeling of life itself draining away. He saw Carl's face, hated the way he'd just..stood there.
"You know who you are."
Grace felt so much. Resentment towards the man's words, as if they were supposed to comfort him. Rage at the way he had made it so close (who was he kidding, he would have never cleared the fence) to escape. Betrayal as he imagined Stratt back in the office, tucking away paperwork like another Tuesday meeting had concluded.
Usually when he woke up, it was with sorrow and longing threatening to swallow him whole. Tears already on his face and body trembling. Rocky would be above him, chirping his name over and over until he realized Grace was actually awake, then switching to 'words of comfort' and some sort of song Grace didn't recognize but soothed him, nonetheless.
Today, however, he did not wake up to tears, to sadness. When he opened his eyes, body still shaking, a familiar feeling gripped him in a way he hadn't displayed properly in years.
The deep, pulsing anger he felt was unlike anything he'd ever felt. Not from years ago at that damned conference that had ended his entire academic career. Not when Stratt had demanded he stop mourning his friends within days of their demise to start finding their replacements. Not even when he'd first remembered the memory the dream was based on, too shaken to put a real emotion to it.
This was different. Intense and all encompassing, as if all the rage he'd kept inside all those years had finally decided to show it's face.
Grace felt his breathing pick up, his hands trembling as he pushed himself off the bed and stalking out of the dormitory in long strides.
Rocky's two-toned chirp of his name barely registered, and all notes that followed were drowned out by the blood rushing in his ears.
He wasn't sure exactly where he was going until he reached the lab. It was still set up from the previous days' research on edible Taumoeba. The sight only added tinder to the flames.
He was going to be stuck eating coma slurry and alien sludge in just a couple years. Rationing his meals just for a small chance he'd survive to Erid, with no certainty that he would even make it before some deficiency took him out. No clue if the Eridians would even be able to feed him once the food ran out.
His jaw ached from the force of clenching his teeth. He swept his arms out in a sudden flurry of movement, sweeping the pile of research notes to the floor. A couple of petri dishes clattered nosily to the metal floor, and he stomped on the nearest one.
His neck and ears burned. His chest felt so tight. The room was lost in a blur as he grabbed the nearest stool- one of few that were not bolted to the floor- and threw it across the lab.
It smacked into one of Rocky's tunnels with a sharp snap. He didn't even pause to consider if it was the stool or the xenonite breaking.
There was noise, a jumble of high-pitched notes and the repetitive tak tak tak of Rocky's ball clambering forward.
Whatever words he was trying to convey were lost to Grace's ears as he slammed his fists onto the lab table.
His throat hurt, and he vaguely recognized that he was screaming. Something wordless and guttural, that tore at his vocal cords and cut off only when he ran out of air.
It reminded of the way he'd screamed himself hoarse, begging for his captors to let him up. He remembered waking up in the cell later, barely able to speak at first as he begged the guard outside to open the door. By the time Stratt had come in to monologue at him, he'd only barely gotten his voice back to snark at her.
He wish he'd said more. Left her with more than the pitiful "go to Hell" that she had already had a comeback to.
"Hell is coming to us."
The effort of hitting the table felt good, so he did it again, and again. Bringing his fists down on the surface over and over until his arms ached from the effort and his hands had gone numb from the vibrations it created.
He leaned over the tabletop with another cry, burying his hands in his hair and yanking. It hurt. He did it again.
Something bumped his thigh and his knees quivered threateningly. A sharp burst of notes broke through the static, and Grace lifted his head to peer over the edge of the table.
Rocky sat in his ball, tapping nervously across the interior before bumping him again with another warble.
"Grace? What is wrong, question? Answer!" Rocky's translator asked flatly, but Grace could hear the high-pitched fear in his notes.
Fear. Grace was scaring him.
"Grace?"
A sob tore from his chest so hard it hurt. Like his heart from being ripped out. He tucked his knees to his chest and gripped his hair once more.
"It's not fair," He whined. It was such a childish statement. Something a kid would cry after not getting candy at the store or getting to go to a friend's house. It felt so out of place out among the stars.
"I don't want to die. It's not fair!" Pain rippled across his scalp as he yanked sleep tousled locks of hair. It did little to cut through the fog in his mind.
The cell floors were so cold. The concrete soaked up every ounce of warmth. The LEDs overhead buzzed loudly. In just a few hours the launch would be upon him and he'd be dead. Dead dead dead.
He wanted to bite and tear and claw his way out. If the guard would just open the door, he could fight. He could run, disappear. He could live.
Something bumped him and Grace instinctively lashed out with a kick. He quickly regretted it as pain jolted up his entire leg, as if he'd tried to kick a solid wall.
"Don't touch me!" He barked with as much threat as he could muster as he trembled in agony. He hoped he hadn't broken anything. How would he run with a broken foot?
The presence before him backed away and Grace whined as he buried his face into his knees again.
Somewhere, music began to play. He couldn't place the song, but it felt..familiar. His body seemed to recognize it, at least, heartbeat slowing to match the imitation that droned in the background of the song. His breathing slowed, hitching occasionally, until he stopped curling so tightly and his lungs could expand properly.
Around him, the cold cell walls melted away. The Hail Mary greeted him with the soft whirring of machinery. The music continued a moment longer, than tapered off.
"Rocky is here. You are safe."
He eased his head up, sniffling as he peered past the tears blurring his vision.
Rocky sat in his ball, claws nervously kneading the floor like they had back in the tunnel when they were saying their goodbyes. Uncertain, hesitant. Scared?
"Rocky?" Grace cringed at how rough his voice sounded. Jeez, he really did a number on his throat with all that yelling.
Rocky perked up, taking a tentative half step forward that thunked his ball onto the next facet. Both cringed at the sound.
Grace took a deep breath that trembled only slightly before breathing out a long sigh. "It's okay. C'mere." He let his legs relax, opening just enough for Rocky to carefully place himself between.
He leaned into his friend's ball with another sigh, relishing in the warmth so unlike what had been consuming him moments ago. "Sorry, I'm sorry..I didn't mean to scare you."
Rocky hummed softly, pressing himself into the barrier. "Did not scare me. Was scared for you. Your leg okay, question?"
Grace flexed his foot out tentatively, then nodded. "It's going to be sore, but nothing's broken. Sorry, for trying to kick you."
"Is okay. Grace was scared. Would not hurt Rocky intentionally. Could not hurt Rocky with kick anyways."
Grace sat up suddenly, turning. "Oh fudge- I hit your tunnel. It's not leaking, is it?"
"Stupid question. Xenonite not break from weak hit. Stool maybe broken." A pause as he kneaded the ground again, as if considering his next sentence. "Why Grace throw stool, question? Bad dream, question?"
Suddenly embarrassed by the outburst, Grace averted his gaze. Which Rocky couldn't exactly see, but it made it easier to talk to him with the 'eye' contact.
"Uh, yeah. Bad dream, nightmare." He confirmed. "It was the same as last time, but I woke up so..mad."
"Usually Grace only leaky after bad dream. Why different?"
He shrugged, wiping the stray tears from his cheeks before Rocky could call him out for being both stupid and leaky. "I don't know, bud. I think..it was just a lot building up. I haven't felt that angry in a long, long time." Now that the anger had fizzled out, he felt exhausted.
Melting against Rocky's ball, he closed his eyes. "I've spent so long being.. sad over everything that happened. It just boiled over. I never really let myself be angry over what happened."
Grace recalled his youth, filled with much more of that familiar anger. He had been a bit of a pessimist in his youth. No family, no friends, just himself in the big world trying to grapple with everything thrown his way. Anger was easiest when you had to defend yourself when no one else would.
After the UNESCO incident, he'd worked on himself. Practiced anger management skills without the aid of an actual therapist or counselor of any kind. He was self-aware enough to know he had issues and how to control himself when it started to emerge. It had taken years to hone the skills. Teaching had helped a lot. It was hard to be angry at a face of smiling, curious children.
He kept plenty of snarky comments to himself. The Vatt had been a real test of patience and there had been multiple times he'd had to politely excuse himself to step outside and recollect himself before he cracked. On the outside he was a smart-ass but mostly professional scientist. Inside, he was critiquing and judging and doing his best to be likable.
It'd been a long, long time since he'd just let himself be angry.
"I feel better now. I think I needed that." He mumbled, exhaustion tugging at him mercilessly now that the fuel for the flames had been eaten away.
He patted Rocky's ball once before rising to his feet with a groan. His heel throbbed and he tried to put as little weight on the leg as possible.
Rocky watched him, staying close as if waiting for him to need a support. Grace happily used this to his advantage, leaning one hand on his ball while leaning down to check the petri dish he'd shattered.
He breathed a sigh of relief that it was unused and not full of fuel-eating tauomeba, deciding to put off cleaning it until later. The other dish was unbroken, and he placed it back onto the lab table. His research notes were a mess and a problem for Later Grace to sort out.
"Watch me sleep?" He asked, hobbling back in the direction of the bunks.
"Always." Rocky replied, like Grace knew he would, smiling as his friend rolled away to reenter the tunnels and take his proper space in the space above his bed.
As he curled up under the quilt and watched Rocky place himself perfectly overhead, he sighed. He felt lighter than he had in a long time.
Sleep came easy as he drifted into a dreamless sleep.