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Grace feels… weird.
He's stood in the lab, doing his daily chart of the now-contained taumeboa as the Mary cruises at lightspeed towards Erid. Rocky is at his feet, out of his ball and instead wearing his own EVA suit made entirely of flexible xenonite.
Grace takes off his safety goggles and drops them on the lab bench.
His head hurts, but its not like a typical headache. There's a light hum in his ears.
"Grace okay?" Rocky asks, tilting his body up to 'look' at him. His voice is a soft, worried tone.
"Uh, yeah, I think so," Grace hums in reply. It feels so weird. So, so weird. It's like deja vu, but he can't remember what this feeling is, either. It's intense. The feeling is weighing on his chest, like it crawled up his body to lay under his ribs. Did he breathe in something he wasn't supposed to?
His eyes are unfocused and his hands are shivering. It feels wrong. A heavy sense of dread floods his limbs. He feels dizzy.
He hears Rocky squawk in alarm and his vision whites out completely.
Grace wakes up on the floor, a metallic taste in his mouth.
Blood. His own, he thinks. He's not sure. His tongue hurts, throbbing in his throat.
Rocky is warbling and chittering somewhere above him. Grace can't understand anything he's saying. He's not sure if he knows these words. Or any words, at the moment. His brain feels like its underwater.
Pain creeps up his spine and he struggles to move. He's laid on his side, his arm splayed out in front of him, palm and elbow facing the ceiling. He slides the limb closer to his body, slowly flipping his hand back around to normal orientation. His wrist is bruised, the skin red. The welts look like Rocky's claws.
He spits onto the floor, clearing his mouth of the pooling blood and saliva.
The sound alerts Rocky, who quickly leans close to Grace's face.
"Grace! What happened? What was that, question?" He stomps his foot twice.
Grace gurgles in reply, too tired to lift his head.
"Are you hurt? You weren't responding. You were shaking and stiff, scary scary," He gives Grace's shoulder a shake, "Grace okay? Can you see Rocky?"
Grace spits again, "Yeah, see you." He says. Talking is hard.
"Okay, good good good. Hear okay too?" He asks.
"Yeah," Grace replies, simply.
"Can you walk?"
His body feels like it's made of lead. He has to focus his cloudy brain to remember how to move. He can still wiggle his toes, just about, but they feel like they're miles away, hardly connected to his legs. Nothing is working like it is supposed to.
He's so tired.
"No," he breathes. He spits more blood. "Hard."
Rocky hums, worried.
Grace tries to move, and Rocky sets a claw on his shoulder, "Stay stay stay. Move when you feel better."
"'Kay," Grace mumbles. He tries wiggling his toes again. His words get caught in his throat. "Help m' up?" Bloodied drool runs down his chin.
Slowly squirming himself upright, Rocky slips his claws under Grace's armpits, leaning him against the lab bench.
Rocky steps closer, incredibly gentle as he touches Grace's chest. He leans in for a hug, and Grace hugs back.
He bursts into tears.
He's not sure why. His brain is still so muddled. He's not sad, not really. Embarrassed, maybe? Scared, absolutely. A little slither of clarity tries to affirm there's nothing to be ashamed of, but it's quickly blurred away by a wave of humiliation.
He had a seizure. He had a seizure.
He didn't know he had those. When was the last time he had one? He can't remember. He can't even remember hitting the floor.
"It's okay, Grace okay," Rocky sings. He purrs and rumbles his body, soothing Grace as he cries.
He can't stop crying. He feels like a little kid, afraid of the dark. The feeling of impending doom is still lodged firmly in his chest.
"Armando," Grace burbles, weakly pointing to the medical bay. He turns back to Rocky, struggling to string together a sentence, "Help me."
Rocky slowly stands, lifting Grace with him. Grace leans on his carapace heavily as they shuffle down the hall, barely able to lift his feet from the ground.
He can't believe he had a seizure.
Grace sets himself down on the gurney, letting Armando examine him as he fights to stay awake.
He thinks he hears the nannybot confirm it was a seizure as it moves about it's track, prodding Grace with various implements. He squeezes his eyes shut, the lights above him far too bright.
"What is a seizure, question?" Rocky asks. Grace hears the translator repeat the question to Armando.
"A seizure, as defined by John Hopkins Medicine, is a burst of uncontrolled electrical activity between brain cells that cause temporary abnormalities in muscle tone or movements, behaviours, sensations or states of awareness." The robot chimes.
Grace turns his head, just about able to see Rocky on the floor beside him, fidgeting with his claws.
"Grace okay?"
Before Grace can reply, Armando chimes again, "Doctor Grace should rest after experiencing a tonic-clonic of this scale."
"Gran' mal," Grace murmurs. He was far into his adulthood when the term was changed. He remembers still calling it it's old name, a mix of habit and simply agreeing with the old French term. The fear that overtakes his body feels like a 'grand evil'. One of the closest things to it, anyway.
Grace rolls onto his back.
Rocky startles beside him, "Grace!" He clambers up onto the gurney, grabbing hold of Grace's shoulder, "Grace, no no no, not again!"
Grace wraps a hand around his arm, but before he can reply, Armando chimes again, "It is not advised to restrain patients."
Rocky steps back, Grace can see him worrying his claws together. Grace lifts a weak hand to the top of his carapace, soothing it over the xenonite suit. "I'm okay. I'm okay."
It seems to help, the Eridian settling between his legs.
"Watch me sleep?" Grace asks, his tongue still feeling fat in his mouth.
"Of course." Rocky replies, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
The next few days, Grace goes back to normal. As normal as Grace has ever been, anyway. Rocky can hear his steady heartbeat, a lovely constant, seventy-six beats per Earth-minute. Rocky had been counting, just in case.
Rocky can tell Grace is uncomfortable still. He's trying not to show it, keeping his tone light and joking around. But Rocky can hear the slight quiver to his voice, and the way his brow muscles twitch just so- the way they did when Grace was uneasy.
He knows Grace is thinking about his past. His memories are still slowly returning to him, usually after something triggers the thought. He might have forgotten he had seizures entirely, and Rocky can't even fathom how scary something like that would be to suddenly remember. He doesn't really have a frame of reference of what it's like to forget something.
What if Grace had a seizure whilst he was alone on the Mary? Or in the coma?
Rocky wonders if Stratt knew. Based on what Grace has told him, she knew everything about everyone. She had access to personal details that were otherwise private, like medical records. If Grace was being treated on Earth for his seizures, she absolutely would have known.
Unless he wasn't, of course. Rocky didn't really understand what 'insurance' was, but he knew Grace didn't have it, and that meant Grace didn't see medical professionals often. Rocky thinks it's a terrible system, but when he voiced his complaint Grace offered only a shrug. Nothing he could do about it now.
Whilst Grace sleeps, Rocky uses the laptop and his screen-reader to research.
Another few days pass, and Rocky had almost put the terrifying ordeal behind him. Grace was doing better every day, clearly also worrying less and less, and that eased Rocky's nerves.
They're walking down the hallway to the sleeping pods when something changes. Grace's heartbeat randomly spikes. It's the exact same spike as before his seizure.
Rocky tries not to panic, running through what else might have caused it. He's walking no faster than normal, still smiling and laughing, his jumper hung over his shoulder. He's otherwise calm. He's blinking a little harder, maybe, wrinkling his nose as he does. Rocky knows he does that when he gets headaches. He had a headache last time, too.
Charging forward, Rocky dashes around Grace's legs to stand in front of him, and quickly reaches up to grab his hand. "You need to lay down now."
Grace chuckles, "What?"
Rocky pulls him along to a clear spot, where there was nothing on the floor. He didn't want to risk getting Grace into bed, in case he fell out.
"You're about to have another seizure." Rocky says, hoping his tone is carrying the weight of the situation. "You need to lay down."
Grace falters, but does as Rocky says, laying down on his side. He gets his body into the recovery position - one leg bent and one straight, with a hand under his head. Rocky gives him his sweater to rest his head on.
"How can you tell?" He asks, though his voice is meek. He's clearly not feeling well, he's probably experiencing more symptoms than Rocky is able to sense.
"Your heartbeat changed, spiked like last time." Rocky says. He gently removes Grace's glasses, and strokes a claw through his hair. "Stay there."
Grace scrunches up his face again, his mouth opening as he takes small breaths in. He blinks faster, lip starting to quiver, his mouth twitches in one corner.
"Rockyyy," Grace is just about able to whine, his jaw tensing.
Rocky steps closer, positioning himself over Grace's body to help him stay on his side, "I'm here." He says, voice maybe a bit too loud. "Rocky's here."
Grace tenses suddenly, eyelids still fluttering. His arm curls towards his chest, and Rocky can hear his muscles contracting.
He focuses on Grace's heartbeat, and the sound of his lungs. He can hear the soft sound of Grace's drool dripping to the floor, and listens closer to ensure he's not breathing any of it in.
Using one of his back claws that isn't preoccupied by propping Grace up, he counts the seconds. Grace's last seizure lasted sixty-five Earth seconds. Rocky had heard the clock ticking in the hallway, and remembered hearing the larger minute hand tick. It was the tiniest bit louder, Rocky was annoyed by it's design. But he can't fault it now.
Grace starts blinking again after seventy seconds, more deliberately this time. Like he's trying to focus his eyes and isn't able to. A strained gurgle escapes him.
"Grace, it's okay," Rocky murmurs, trying to keep his voice gentle and low. "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay."
His lungs still sound good, his breathing returning to normal.
Grace's arms relax, palms to the floor. He's shivering, but not seizing. Rocky tries to lean closer, to let Grace feel his warmth through the xenonite suit.
"Stay laying down," Rocky instructs. His tone is wobbling, he knows Grace can hear it. He can't help but to feel scared, he knows Grace wouldn't fault him for it. He tries to keep it together anyway.
"Whe'e 'm I?" Grace asks, spitting to clear his mouth.
Rocky wipes his face for him, "Next to bed." He hopes Grace doesn't mean that more broadly. It might be too upsetting to relearn he's in space.
Grace gurgles again. He shifts his legs, trying to move upright.
Rocky lets him this time, softly stroking his hair as he props himself up on his elbows. He can just about hear the muscles in Grace's eyes as he tries to focus them again.
"I have your glasses," Rocky says. He steps closer, cupping Grace's cheek as he slowly brings the frames to Grace's face, letting him adjust.
Grace blinks, looking around slowly. He's still not all the way back yet. Rocky had read that it can sometimes take days.
Tears well in Grace's eyes, quickly running down his cheeks. "Sorry." He says, voice shaking. He sits up, pushing his hands under his glasses to sob.
Rocky steps closer, drawing Grace into a hug. He shushes him softly, his body vibrating as he does. "Shh, Grace, it's okay. Nothing to be sorry for." He rubs Grace's back.
He encourages Grace to cry as much as he wants. As much as he needs to. They stay on the floor for an hour.
Grace eventually sits back, wiping his eyes with his hands.
"Sorry." He repeats.
"It's okay," Rocky replies. "How are you feeling, Grace?"
Grace shrugs. Rocky can tell by his body language he's exhausted. He can hear in his wispy breathing he still feels distant and not quite himself yet.
"Tired." He offers.
"Rocky can help you get to bed," Rocky says. He stands slowly, holding Graces hands to help him upright. He's wobbly on his feet. "Slowly. Careful, careful, careful."
They shuffle to the pods together, Grace not risking taking a full step. His socks glide along the floor panels.
He's just as slow as he sits down, delicate as he lays on his side. He winces, and Rocky knows his muscles are sore. He can hear them twinge.
Rocky pulls his quilt over him, "Watch you sleep, okay?" He settles beside him on the bed, softly humming to rumble his body. He knows Grace likes the noise.
Grace nods. "Thank you."
"Of course."