Chapter Text
Grace woke shortly after me. Although Grace was kind enough to insist to watch me sleep, he was always asleep when I woke these days. I pretended I felt safe. If I didn’t check Armando’s logs on Grace’s sleeping periods, I could pretend he had only recently dozed off, and I told myself Armando was watching Grace.
When Grace woke, it was time for Armando to change the bandages on Grace’s arm. His old burn wounds had opened again and would not close. I know it is going to be one of Grace’s bad days when I hear him resisting Armando. Not that he had any good ones anymore. All I could try to do was ease Grace's pain.
Mary’s instructions came from overhead as Grace pushed at Armando.
I skittered to Grace's bed. “Grace, let Armando change bandages.”
“Hurts,” Grace mumbled.
“I know. Will feel better with new bandage. New dose of pain relief should start working in only few minutes.”
He groans and lets Armando begin to handle his arm. “Mm… ah ‘on ’anna…” Grace slurs. My English is good enough to figure he means ‘I don't want to’ but I'm not sure what he is referring to. Likely his whole situation. He's begun speaking in vague phrases as he grows weaker. It seems to be because he lacks the physical and mental energy to voice fully fledged complex concepts, so whatever reaches me is the root of what he is feeling.
“Rocky knows. Grace will be more comfortable soon.”
I sing an old Eridian song. It uses a dialect that was more common when my grandparents were hatchlings. Grace can’t understand it, but he enjoys the music. I know some human music is without lyrics but still tell a story. I like to think that somehow my Grace absorbs every ancient word of hope and love I sing to him.
His eyes are leaking but he isn't keening. So his cry is likely more tiredness than sadness. With his good arm, he reaches out for me.
I take his hand between two of my claws. I've made a suit to go into his atmosphere. It's practical in many ways since I am now the only ambulatory member of the Hail Mary, but mostly the suit is for my Grace’s comfort. So that when he reaches out, there is someone to hold him.
Grace rubbed his hand on the xenonite encasing me. I can tell his brain is turning over many thoughts he doesn’t have the energy for. His mind is always busy busy busy processing even if he doesn't have the strength to voice it. I could tell he was studying me. Humans wear their emotions so openly compared to Eridians, but sometimes I think he is better at reading me than his fellow humans. I don't know if I believe in the concept of souls, but when I consider it, I think Grace was meant to be an Eridian but got born on Earth.
I am very grateful his state has not caused great confusion for him yet. He is exhausted chronically, but his mind is not horribly sick. I know it may worsen. I fear what may happen if it does. Armando already annoys him, so he may get scared if he can't recognize it. I don't know what I will do if he fails to recognize me. I have read humans can sometimes lose recognition of other people, even those they hold dearest. His brain does not have millions of years of recognition toward my species like he does toward his own. A talking rock seems as foreign to him as liquid standing up and walking to me.
I’m not certain what I’ll do if Grace’s condition worsens, but I will always sing to him. Even if he forgets me, I will do all I can for him. Whatever his reality may be, I would make it so if it was more comfort for him. I would pretend Armando and I are ‘little green aliens’ in a UFO. I would curl up beside him like a dog. I would be the voice of his god. I would do anything for him.
“I wanna go home.”
I would do anything for him.