Archive of Our Own

Simon took a deep breath in, sitting on the steps toward Grace's and his shared home, he let the pseudowind fall off his shoulders and let the air—crafted specifically for the two of them, he liked to think in pairs now—fill his lungs.

There was a time when he struggled to breathe on Erid, not for the naturally occurring ammonia atmosphere, of course—but for the reality-shattering horrors he'd witnessed. The belief that life wasn't real, it wasn't his. Things that he'd likely never get over. There were times where he still struggled to breathe, nights, usually. He'd find comfort in leaning into Grace's touch, a soft and hesitant hug. Whispers of sweet nothings. Soft stories and lullabies. And those were the times he felt that it was a little bit easier to deal with those aforementioned horrors.

He could almost feel something akin to belonging, there in those arms, cozied up beneath the sheets. Listening to Grace's slow, subtle breathing. A kind of rhythm that buzzed differently compared to his former metal tomb.

And when he worked in the greenhouse, strolled the beach with Grace, watched the pebbles stack onto one another in a brief reminder of Eden station—a memory that's mainly sound and blurry shapes now, the thought of laughter and his brothers came to mind. When he spoke to and listened to the somber, gentle song of Adrian and bonded with Rocky over their mutual companion and little xenonite-crafting projects, he could feel like he was breathing in life itself. That he could maybe call this his.

To be able to find comfort in routine, to be able to have enough idle time he didn't know what to do with, it was something he would struggle with intially. He felt an embarrassed flush crawl onto his cheeks at the thought of his snapping at Grace, dealing with the immediate aftermath of the blood ocean on his psyche. It had started nearly two weeks after he woke up to the sight of the bright and cheery Dr. Captain Ryland Grace.

And maybe he'd believed in Heaven for a brief moment then, when he first woke, maybe he believed the stories Father told of angels for a second, when he was surrounded by the blinding lights of Grace's home, haloing the microbiologist. And, as he recovered, he came to realize that this was greater than Heaven, Grace was better than something otherworldly, he was human.
He would ramble, he was clumsy, he'd drink the Eridian-synthesized coffee like gluttony didn't exist, and stay up late into the night like Earth's and Eden's God didn't command days of rest. Though, Eden hardly, hypocritically followed that biblical command much. And Simon was hardly a believer, anyhow. Though, this second chance at life tested that skepticism.

Grace was kind, he was quick to annoyance, he was quick to laughter, he was full of so much nuance, and sorrow, and grief, and love—no wonder it wasn't hard to fall in love with him.

Simon smiled to himself, feeling another breeze bring the smell of the artificial ocean to him. He wanted a moment to himself before Rocky and Adrian made their way over to the biodome, for their weekly movie night. Grace was inside reading up on something the Eridian science team had prepared for him, hoping to incorporate it into the pebbles' curriculum. So, Simon decided to linger on the memories for a bit, reminiscing on the prelude to life's current song.

….

Adrian scuttled into the biodome, quickly punching in the access to get to Grace's shelter. They were so distraught at the thought of their mate being alone with Grace, some stranger from a strange blood-soaked celestial object, and a bunch of distressed Eridian medical specialists. Why had no one told them!? They were the head exobiologist on this side of the whole planet, damn it!

They reminded themself to stay calm. If they were panicking over this whole conundrum, it was no doubt their mate was far more worried about their best friend's prone-to-danger-and-rash-decision-making habits. He probabaly threw himself at the other alien, opting for a warm welcome, knowing the creature!

They gathered themself at the door, knocking thrice, a perfect, loud rhythm.

All the whistling and arguing seemed to go hush on the other side. Adrian noticed their mate turning to look at them, standing at the other side of the clear Xenonite barrier they had erected for the new alien. And one Ryland Grace standing at the other human's bedside. They let out a sigh, drooping notes and trills, before being let in by one of the other Eridian scientists. At least he hasn't crossed the threshold.

"My harmony!" Rocky cheered, excitedly tilting his carapace in their direction.
Calmly, they trilled in response, "My sweet song, what is the matter? What is going on here?"
"A-A new human! Can you believe it! I—-Oh God! I—I apologize, my beloved Adrian, that no one alerted you firstly. I was with the engineering team, trying to get them to build a structure to bring the damaged, er, ship? Into the biodome—without Grace trying to meddle."

"I wasn't meddling," was all the human rebutted with, "this is a human matter, I'm allowed to be kept updated, too."
Ah, Adrian thought to themself, so Grace wasn't kept in the loop either. This must've been one hectic operation.
"Yes, but you know just as well as I do how bad radiation is for you!"

Adrian heard Grace's face twitch with guilt. Adrian inched closer to their mate, tapping a rhythm over his foremost limb, their shared rhythm, his arm with their carapace-colored charm embedded within, "Tell me more?"
Rocky, with his sweet Rocky quirks, likely learned from having to speak in a certain matter toward Grace, turned one face of his carapace toward Adrian, "Of course. Well, the science team was assembled rather haphazardly—"

"That's my fault," one of the other Eridians chimed in, a senior member of the science ensemble, Sandy, Grace called them, "Me and [Citrine] were monitoring the Eridani expedition team. They reported the object being trapped in something one of our botanists call a tree—we have a few in the greenhouse, for reference."
If Adrian had eyes, they'd roll them. They were an expert on exobiology—-that included extraterrestrial plant life, too. It was a oversight on the other scientist's part, perhaps. They weren't one to confront their bruised ego, anyway. Probably a spiel the other prepared. But it did explain some things about the miscommunications occurring.
Sandy continued, trilling rather quickly, "On a moon nearby, that hadn't been on the starcharts before. It was a quick, messy operation because of the urgency that the presence of life on the vessel presented. The construction of this barrier, the integration of the medical staff on this project, and the Xenonite bubble we had to synthesize to keep the new human safe in its vessel, it was all rather rushed. I had to lead the medical team, as well, seeing as we had to work fast—we didn't know how bad the damage to the human's systems were."

Rocky continued after the sand-colored science Eridian finished, "One of the nurses was sent off to retrieve you, after I'd just gotten here, but I believe the message was interrupted by one of your immediate lab partners. I was told by said nurse that you were in the middle of an urgent task, Love. I'm sorry. I would've gotten you myself, if I'd known. Grace was notified last minute, just as you were, but he was busy—"
"I wouldn't have minded ending class early if it meant helping with this! Another human, you all! I mean.." Grace trailed off. Unusually.
Adrian turned to their mate, sighing song coming from their vents, "Don't you worry, now. We have greater issues to deal with. Don't we? It's no one's fault, Sweetsong."
Rocky's calm seemed to have carried throughout the room, onto everyone's carapace, with the exception of one human's shoulders.
"I have no idea what this means," Grace whispered to the tall, turquoise Eridian as they came to his side with their mate. Adrian noticed his hand on the barrier. They didn't need vision to see the human's eyes were lingering on the other human's face. Adrian noticed strange protrusions there, where there was a lack of such on Grace's face. Adrian would remain curious about that for a while, as the weeks passed and the human would remain asleep.

They made busy while Grace and the medical-specialized Eridians kept an eye on the stranger. Rocky would give them updates when he would return home, at sporadic hours. It was a sore reminder of the arrival of their mate, finally home from space. And the news was harrowing—dead friends, mates of loved ones, pebbles left orphaned—in the care of the community—and a giant cry sang throughout all of Erid.
News made worse by the fact that Grace was clutching onto life, malnourished and out of food until the newly formed Eridian human medical specialists and collaborating scientists would be able to synthesize foods from Grace's waste, his flesh, and other gross, leaky human space blob material.

All the while, Rocky would refuse to sleep, only ever wanting to watch Grace.

And Adrian would only ever admit jealousy to themself.

Tonight, Rocky made their way into the home all jittery. It was something only Adrian would notice.
They let him give his updates.
"I'm worried about Grace."
"That's a new one," Adrian joked.
"The human just woke up and already he's too trusting," Adrian held their breath, not wanting a quip to spill out and interrupt their dear mate, letting the mud-colored Eridian ramble his concerns, "the new human is scared, I get that.. I just fear the worst, you know? Grace is so risky."
Rocky leaned into Adrian's touch, as they tapped slowly against the top of his carapace, a gentle reassurance, "You have to try and understand that the occurrence of a new species—a new human—is unprecedented, Sweetsong. A probability that should've been unprobable. They're social animals just as we are, Rocky. He's likely just ecstatic to have someone like him here.."

"But I'm like him, Adrian!"

A sad silence hung over the air for a moment. They let their touch be a comfort to his hard shell skin.

"Dear, you know that's not what I meant. Besides, he knows what he's doing, Love."
"Does he? Grace told me he couldn't get them to talk. Another human. Unwilling to talk. To another human! Ugh!"
"You're far too stressed about this than you should be. Grace will not see you any differently because of this whole fiasco. I will always love you, that is how me and him are alike. And.. for all your worries of harm, has the human shown any signs of endangering Grace?"
"..No.. Grace mentioned them being scared, is all. I noticed it, too, but I think that doesn't mean it's unlikely," Rocky retorted.

"It means it's less likely."

Rocky relented, "..You are so wise, my wise, wise mate, you ease my worries, my dearest song," he hummed.

"I know," their tune was fond.

Rocky was tapping the middle of his preferred face, as if trying to get a better listen for his thoughts, "Now… Never mind my endeavors. How has work been on the greenhouse?"
Adrian sighed, "Conditions are great and yet the Earth-based plants find themselves struggling to keep up. [Sagan] was informing me about the atmospheric makeup of Earth and climate patterns—they were looking into soil research and telling me about nutrients, hoping we could save the dying ones. And, you know, [Rosalind] had dropped off some of the cloned specimens and [Arber] helped me sow and was tracking the data on the propagations—-and despite all the effort, [Rock], I just.." they almost seemed to shake their carapace, a habit they'd picked up from Rocky, "I'm well aware I'm missing something here, I just can't put my claw on it."
"Maybe we need to incorporate Grace's help on this?"
"He's been tons of help everywhere else, Dear, besides I don't want to bug him when his main priority is the human."
"Sigh, what are we going to do?"
"Have a moment with me," Adrian replied,
"I missed you. I never stop missing you."
"I have spent the latter half of my existence aching without you, my harmony," Rocky responded.
"You constantly have to one-up me, huh?"
"Of course," he tilted his carapace up, proud.
And so they listened to the sound of Erid's harsh winds, bouncing off the biodome in the distance. Rocky wriggled himself into Adrian's crossed arms, Adrian leaned in as close as possible, they shared heat—enough to burn a human (ha!)—and shared this idle second of existence with each other. Adrian noticed their mate becoming more limp.
"You sleep, I'll watch," they whistled, quietly.

—

It's been a few months since the new human's arrival. A new routine has built between both of the same species.

Though, Rocky conveys the routine is reluctant advice from the medical team. Keeping the human's muscles and joints from being inactive and healing improperly, they must walk. And they need help walking, so Grace was excited to join them, initially.

And in recent times? All of Erid can hear them argue. It's become background noise—same as the strong winds of the planet.

From across the biodome, in the airlock, Adrian entered with the biodome specialists and their three-member team of greenhouse experts. They watched the two humans walking down the beach. The new one's heartbeat was pounding rapidly, not to mention Grace's stiff posture.
Hm.
They and their team scuttled up the steps and toward the cliffedge where the greenhouse sat, gleaming like the biodome around them.
Those on the other team trailed off to Grace's home, to check air conditioning status.

From afar, they could hear a shouting match between the humans begin. It was a little irritating, the sound itself generally unpleasant.
And it was more so irritating as it got in the way of their counting of specimens next to Arber.
"What do you think that was all about this time?"
They weren't as proficient in the human-based language as Rocky was, so they couldn't spell much certainty out of what gibberish they heard. But they could translate Grace's words much better than they could the other's.
"Something about the other's unwillingness to listen, something about.. help?"
"Ah, interesting. You know, I heard something from your mate about a field of human study called anthropology and I think if we'd known about the humans before this, I'd like to have done that…" the Eridian rambled on. And, despite Adrian literally having the inability to turn off their hearing, they let the other scientist's rambling fall upon their carapace, allowing it to blur into the background.
They etched something into their xenonite board, punching in a number, jotting down data.
Having eventually finished their excited rant about various human-based fields of study, Arber bid them a good evening, giving Adrian a final update of their maintenance on the plants they were doing, and notifying the other of the clippings they grabbed.
"I'll have an update for you in the morning!"
"Sounds good, [Arber]."
Adrian wished them a good night, as they expected to keep themself busy in the space for a while. They made their way down the row, checking the watering equipment as well. A claw brushed a leaf, and a claw would trail behind them, petting Eridian plants—housed in mesh cases that would feed ammonia-based air to the plants. Adrian knew them very well. Adrian came upon an Earth tree. Cypress.
A type of cypress.
Harsh texture.
Barely taller than one of their legs.
Dense, thin foliage.
Binomial nomenclature, according to Grace, naming the tree in another "dead" Earth language: Cupresses sempervirens.
They have something like that on Erid, too, for scientists on the other side of the planet who sing with a different tone. Flora and fauna have a shared first song and second songs are designated depending on evolutionary lineage. They have the same rhythm and melody—despite differing tones. Names build up, but so do the names of their most revered Eridians. They think of their beloved Rocky for a split second and all the names he's accrued. So accomplished, so smart, so wonderful.
Returning to the sound bouncing off of the tree's branches, it reminds them of a pebble branching out on the floor.
One of three trees that they received from Grace's inventory of plants that he hadn't been aware of until digging through more of his dead crewmates' items. Adrian doesn't think to pry into it, they know how much it hurts Grace. They know how much it hurts Rocky to see Grace hurt.
Speak of the devil.
Adrian approaches the wall, discarding their current task at claw, listening to the human duo as they hobbled up the stairs; Grace helping the injured, unbalanced human walk. And they hear a plea wretch it's way out of the stranger's mouth.
"Please," he whimpered, "just.. let me down here, I don't want to go back inside.. I just… Am I allowed to-to just..?"
They heard Grace sigh as he opened the door, relenting as he lost the battle of screaming matches, "Yeah, Simon.. You're allowed to do whatever you want, really."
Before shutting the door, gently.
That's right. The new human wasn't too fond of loud noises.
So, as they made their approach outside, Adrian tried to be as light-footed with their limbs as possible.
The human still managed to jump at the sight of them, Adrian noted the tears on the human's face, the sound of sniffling and stuttering lungs wheezing through the being.
"Ah, uh.. H-hello," they wiped an arm over their face, "I didn't mean to…"
The human made a scoffing noise, "Didn't want anyone to see me."
"It's okay," Adrian spoke as gentle as possible, "I technically don't see."
"Shit, I really wish I understood what that meant."
Right.
They were so used to Grace's ability to understand the Eridians, they worked under the assumption that this one would catch up just as fast.
They laid flat on their carapace, attempting to comfort the sad human, tucking their limbs into their body.
"I'll simply listen."
"Hah, right," he feigned understanding, "I could ask Ryland for his translator but.."
he curled in on himself, "I've asked for too much."
Ryland? Adrian thought, confused. Must be another name for Savior Grace. Just as he was a pilot (begrudgingly) and a 'doctor'. And beloved friend of Rocky. Hm. I've never heard Rocky use this one, though. Must be a title reserved for the other human, then.
"You're Rocky's, er, 'mate', aren't you?"
Smart human, they nodded, choosing a side to face the human with, and meandering it up and down to simulate the movement. They were grateful the human wasn't speaking in as complex forms as when they were arguing with Grace—not that the human language was too hard to grasp, really. It seemed simple enough from what Rocky told them. It was simply unfamiliar.
They'll pick it up the same way their mate did.
Ha, nothing like friendly competition between mates, yeah? Gotta keep things interesting.
"I'm Simon," he muttered, "in.. in case you were wondering."
They were, thank you very much.
"I already know your name.. Haha," Simon cleared his throat, his hand finding it's way to his shoulder, as he curled in further on himself.
"Why did you all have to be so..?" he never finished his sentence, opting to start a new one, "the waves [different?] compared to what I'm used to."
Adrian tilted their carapace a little.
"I'm not used to this," he grumbled, "I wish that stubborn [explitive?] was able to get that!"
Ahh, I think I can put the pieces together now..
"Has he always [be? Oh—Been!] like that?"
Adrian doesn't know how to shrug, so they tilted their carapace the other way.
Simon lets out a small chuckle, it shakes his shoulders, similar to his crying.

Adrian thinks they could relate to the thin line between joy and sorrow. It's how they spent their youth, it's how they spent their days mourning their dying star, mourning the initial and supposed permanent loss of Rocky.

They let him keep talking. Not to be biased, but they did find Simon's voice more soothing than Grace's. It was a deeper sound, less grating on the nonxistent ears.

—

The next time Adrian is at home, resting, and their mate returns—he brings a new and exciting update. A history that Adrian was unfamiliar with, despite their lingering around the new—Simon.

Rocky, ever the gossip, speaks with a jovial tone, "He has a bad habit of scaring Grace."

"Why's that?"

"He was climbing the rocks by the cliff face. Grace was unable to find him for a while. Hours, he tells me."

"That man likes to hover."

"I just think he's in love," Rocky tittered.

"You'd know better than I."

"He.. mentioned something else—Grace I mean—"

"Human pronouns, so confusing."

"He's got a whole whiteboard of things. He showed me and expected me to see it. Left my Flat Surface Translator at home too."

"And what time of day was it when this madman went all theory crazy on you?"

"Late. Dearest. Late, late, late."

"I'm sure we can cut the madman some slack, then."

"Mm. Yeah. Silly, stupid human brain—a-anyway, you know how [Sagan] was telling us about the new telescope their team was developing?"

"Of course."

"The scientists in the southern sphere, they've been collaborating on this project. And you know what they found?"

"Huh?"

"Nothing. That is—absolutely nothing where the moon Simon came from used to be. Some debris, sure, but nothing else in its place."

"What? That's impossible. Things can't just disappear like that—"

"That's exactly what Grace said! Mentioned something called the No-hiding theorem. Everything is information. Information is transformed, it gets reallocated back to it's system in some way—that applies to our planets, to the smallest of ecosystems, and to the universe that we're a foreground to. But there's no such thing as total destruction—there's only one time something was ever created and one time it'll ever be destroyed—and even that's a bit murky. You can imagine how my mind ached listening to all this—it ached like this the first time Grace explained radiation to me, as well."

Adrian's heart ached, noticing a slight damper in Rocky's tone.

"And then Grace rambled on about different possible theories for the end of 'everything as we know it!' very excitedly, too. Then he got into wormholes and string theory and Simon's appearance and then his favorite 'sci-fi novels and authors' and… I can tell you more about that later but.."

Adrian trilled a little chuckle, urging Rocky to continue, "Then, from all those theories, you start veering into theological territory—we can let the Erid cults sift through their feelings on all that."

Rocky tilts his carapace upward, in recall of the events, placing a claw to his chin—as though he had one, "And then Grace explains the birth of the universe, too, we briefly brushed over this on our trip to Tau Ceti, you remember, bears no repeating. And I recall him mentioning Relic Radiation—well [Sagan's] Eridwide Collaborative Telescope team measured a discrepancy in the Background Radiation where Simon's moon was found."
And to that, Adrian grumbled, "Radiation. It's always radiation."
"It seemed older than the surrounding space. Which doesn't make sense. We know that because it's colder, far colder than should be feasible, from what I'm told. [Sagan's] still working on the numbers, our best (and newly trained) physicists are on the move trying to come up with an explanation. I think we should just say wormholes and be done with it."

"Ever the engineer, you. Want things done quick and easy, simple blueprints, no preamble about it."

"Ah, it's why you love me."

"Mhm."

"I'll probably be heading one of the divisions in charge of upkeep of [Sagan's] equipment. They were sort of alluding to that in conversation.."

"Hm."

"It's exciting. I'll have another project alongside building 'The Arm'. You'll have the greenhouse and Earth plants—"

"Arm?"

"Grace had mentioned something about a prosthetic limb for Simon. We've decided to surprise him."

"Aw, humans love their bilateral symmetry."

"Told you it was love."

—

Ryland was standing up pin straight, drumming his fingers against his jeans. He switched to drumming with his hands every now and then. To some random tune, off-rhythm, some old 70s song, maybe. He couldn't really remember.
Waiting was something he could be pretty bad at—sure, he could suffer through seven years of hell in graduate school and all the waiting that came with, he could do the tedious waiting for the development of new generations when breeding Tauomeba, but it was small moments like these—where uncertainty was looming over the horizon—see the immediate aftermath of his thesis defense and the aftermath of the UN conference—that he hated.

It was something that he developed post-amnesia-clarity, he thought of those three hours that he waited for his death sentence back on Earth, before shaking it out of his head.

Rocky came clambering over, Adrian following suit, taking comparatively lumbering steps, they were one for taking confident strides compared to Rocky's constant skittering. Grace noted the adorableness of their size difference, where Rocky was a small dog, Adrian was a towering treeshrub. The peak of their green carapace met his shoulder, made it almost feel like he should make eye contact with their pointed shell.

Maybe they felt him staring. They greeted him with a curt, "Grace."

He gave them a polite and aptly curt response in return, "Adrian."

"Rocky here too!"

Ryland hummed out a soft laugh, "Hi, Rocky."

"Uh," came a voice from the doorway, the reason for his awkward drumming, "so am I?"

"Simon!"

"Ryland."

"Rocky!"

Adrian tapped their beloved, ushering him to calm down. He still shook with excitement.

"Here's, uh, that tour group I arranged for you! Yup! Just like I offered! Only the sweetest Eridian couple this side of.. Erid! And Arber! That's one of the botanists—not a planet, or anything, ah—They'll be meeting us at the greenhouse. They should be there already, actually."

"Great," Simon shut the door softly, giving the trio a near-invisible, lip-only smile. He gestured for Ryland to lead the way.

Ryland felt really accomplished at the progress that was made, sure it wasn't a full smile, but he'll take it!
He began to do as he was urged, with the wave of both his hands, they made the short hike toward the greenhouse.

Adrian lingered beside Simon.

Rocky and Grace were in constant conversation for the entirety of the short walk.
The pair following them watched/listened in fond silence. Arber waited impatiently for the quartet to make their way over.

Grace's eyes never left Simon's face.

He could only wish for the Eridians' eidetic memory the moment Simon went breathless at the sight of the trees saddled toward the back of the greenhouse. For all their litheness, they were just as grand as The Last Tree.

Simon and Grace walked home, with Grace explaining the art/science of plant pressing excitedly to the man. A glint of an idea shining in his brightly colored eyes.

—

The following morning, Grace greeted Adrian quickly as he marched into the greenhouse once more, Rocky clambering behind him, greeting his mate with a chirp. Adrian tilted their carapace at the sight of Rocky holding onto a stack of Xenonite-paper on his head, a metal frame in one of his arms, and a jar of translucent liquid in one of his other hands.
Grace's two arms were just as full, holding his-and-Rocky's shared laptop in one arm, a measuing tape, and a pair of trimmers in his other hand. A roll of Kimwipes from the Hail Mary was also stuffed into his arms.
As quickly as the pair came in, measured a small branch from node to apex, and sliced their desired piece off, was as quickly as they ran off. Not without another chirp and a brusque goodbye, of coruse.
Odd, they thought to themself.
They opted to ignore the two up to their usual antics, to focus back at the task at hand. Another day, another count for plants and data.

Grace and Rocky made their way down the beach and toward the classroom. After hearing Grace's spiel the day prior, Rocky proposed a class demonstration for the pebbles on the other side of the wall. Grace would kiss the top of his carapace if he could.
For as much as Grace missed the rock, busy helping with major radiotelemetry construction and maintenance plans, minute biodome repairs, and the proposed prosthetic gift for Simon; he was extremely grateful for the time Rocky managed to carve out for him.

It would be a few hours before the pebbles would arrive, though. Which was perfect for a quick rundown of today's lesson plan.

"Okay, the pebbles should be arriving with their own Eridian native plants and some paper as well. As well as a more tactile paste."

"Awesome, Rock. Thanks for your help with this… Hm.."

"What's the matter, Grace?"

"It's not a big deal. I'm grateful for what I've got, yea, but It'd be much easier if I the ability to be more hands-on with the pebbles, you know?"

"That's why we have teaching aides on the other side of the wall, right?"

"Yeah, but it's not as fun as being able to be there for them. It's one of my favorite parts of teachhing. The best teachers I had were pretty much my undergraduate TA's. 'Cause they were able to physically show me and communicate with me what my professors couldn't drone on and on about in lectures—and I know that's gold coming from me but.. pshhh."

"We can bring out that dense Xenonite EVA suit for you, if you want. So you won't miss another field trip or your chance to see what we can't on Erid. It's still got the flashlights on it and everything."

"No way, Man, I think the pebbles would laugh at me. Let's just.. put a pin in that."

The conversation met a comfortable silence for a minute, as both prepared the open air classroom for the day's presentation—Rocky setting up a tactile projector with raised images on it. He sparked the conversation up again.

"I think you'd be a good professor. You really get into the meat of things when lecturing. After all the stumbling, I mean."

"Hah. Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, and I mean you already have the doctorate. You're wholly qualified. Besides, this cohort of pebbles love you. You'll probably be teaching them into their early adulthood. So you've gotta move up the ranks with them."

"Huh. Does this count as accredidation? Or would it be better classified as gaining my tenure early?"

"To be fair, Dr. Grace, we're making this up as we go."

"Bah, screw accredidation. I'd like to be Dr. Captain Professor Ryland Grace of Grace University now, please."

"The second savior of the stars has spoken, now it is up to the Eridian council to decide. I'll put a good word in."

Grace laughed, a bit incredulous, "Second? Why am I second?"

"I have a cooler backstory, sorry, Grace. Imagine being stranded in space," Rocky forgoes the sadder details for the joy of the moment, "When an alien with the ability to see things beyond your comprehension and technology a bit more advanced than your own appears in a compact spacecraft before you?"

"Whatever you say, Pal. You guys can practically hear me from halfway across the planet, if it weren't for the crazy climate you all have here. That's a thing outta the horror movies. Not to mention synthesizing stuff with Xenonite. I can't wrap my head around it even still."

Grace began setting up his keyboard and worked on ensuring there were enough tactile displays on the objects for demonstration. Grace checked his clock, "looks like they'll be filing in soon."

"We need another movie night soon. Adrian has been asking."

"Have they?"

"They really like The Sound of Music."

"Oh, I'm sure they do."

Ryland laughs the innocuous comment off, before welcoming his rambuncious class in.

"Okay, Class! Who can tell me what they've brought in this morning?"

One of the smaller pebbles squeals, shaking one of their yellow limbs in the air, "Me! Mr. Grace! Me! Me!"

"Yes, Dandelion?"

"Plants, Mr. Grace! Substitute Rocky told our parents to make us bring plants, Mr. Grace!" Ryland swore their squeals would get louder as they punctuated the end of each sentence with his name.

"Correct you are, Dandelion! And what do you guys think we're going to talk about today? Use those eidetic brains of yours—tell me what we learned about recently—"

"We talked about Earth museums!"

"Mr. Rocky took us on a field trip to the Eridian History Museum last week!"

"That he did!" a pang of grief hit Ryland at the thought of missing out. Regardless, he rewarded the students with a proud clap of his hansd and an affirmed exclamation, grabbing his items, and gesturing for Rocky to change the screen's display.

In raised Eridian letters, it read the subject of today's class: The Two Worlds' Museums.

Something he figured would be interesting for pebbles as it was for his human students back on Earth. He remembered Olivia being particularly fond of Cal Academy on one of their big field trips. He sat next to her and ate a sandwich on their lunch break. She talked about the stingrays and skates and complained about the subway sandwiches the school ordered them. And how she wanted to go into marine biology. His heart aches with a distant feeling of being homesick mixed with nostalgia. He still dreams of Earth when he sleeps. He mourns it, sometimes. No matter how perfect life is. Occasionally he wakes up with a start, forgetting where he is. It's why he really wanted a beachfront home when the Eridians asked him, after his recovery.

He forces his head back into the lesson.

"Well like I mentioned last time we have all sorts of museums back on Earth, just like you guys! Natural history museums—which encompass biological life aside from humans, and can be dedicated to even a single major lineaege of organism. For example, you have Dinosaurs—which are ancient extinct ancestors to the reptiles and avians of Earth, which, of course, you remember from last last week's lesson."

Rocky changes the image screen at rapid pace, to match Grace's talking, and keyboard playing.

He takes a breath, watching for any jittery pebbles, not following along so far, "To space, art and history and even art-history museums! There are even random museums (mostly American) dedicated to tourist attractions. They built the world's largest pistachio somewhere in New Mexico, I had to visit—"
"Grace," Rocky hummed at him.
"And I wanted today's lesson to focus on an intersecting discipline taught to artists and scientists of the museum world: plant pressing," he held up a piece of paper and the branch he and Rocky cut off earlier, "now, you may be asking, 'Mr. Grace why's that so exciting?'"

The pebbles sang in agreement.

"I'll tell you why! Scientists in Natural history museums use these guys to extract DNA off of! and other methods of study. So, we dry and press them, glue them without gluing down any fruit or too many of the plants' limbs. And they can be saved for future generations to come! As for you guys, they can be momentos! You can look back at this moment from Mr. Grace's class when you're stuck listening to Dr. Grace speak."

Rocky gets the most kick out of that joke.

"I used to work in a museum during my undergraduate studies. Technically a museum, it was before I went to San Francisco, I was doing my bachelor's in Molecular Bio at Berkeley. I volunteered in the Vertebrate Zoo collections—with the mammals—and sometimes I'd hang out in the herbarium with my friends… Ah.." Grace caught himself reminiscing, "Well I used to press plants in the herbarium and paste labels on, sometimes, if they needed help. We had a workshop on it once, too. That's all, Pebbles," he snapped his fingers, "I need you guys to label your mini Xenonite-tablets with your name and the data Mr. Rocky had you all collect!"

He shows them his own collecting event—explains that collecting cultivars was rare on Earth, but would be a well enough thing on Erid, where these plants are the rarest of the rare. And then he glues the branch to his page, pastes a label on the bottom lefthand corner of the parchment, and guides his students through doing the same.

The pebbles sang disonnance together, a shared song of excitement, amusement, confusion, and Grace takes the time to clarify his instructions—specifically with the keyboard.
He answers questions. He indulges in their hijinks and they indulge in his. I.e., he gets to go on more tirades about his time on Earth.
He almost doesn't notice Rocky's carapace tilting toward the ground, a display of the Eridian's pity. Something unconscious.
Another Grace-turned-Rocky-ism.
Grace smiles sadly at that. He'll go on to reassure the rock-alien that he couldn't be more content.

"But are you happy?"

Rocky's question goes unanswered. It lingers. Ryland reassures Rocky that he loves Erid, he loves the pebbles, and he—most of all—loves Rocky.

As he dismisses class and starts cleaning up, from the corner of his vision, he spots a distant turquoise Eridian glimmering in the artificial sunlight, exiting his and Simon's house, alongside the shorter human.

Something ugly claws at Ryland's chest for a brief moment.

—

Simon watches through the window, sitting next to Adrian on the couch, wrapped up in Grace's quilt, as he waves his arms excitedly to the class of pebbles—likely lost in another lecture. A smile creeps it's way onto his face and his eyes crinkle with amusement.

"Why did he want to keep me inside, again?"

"Grace and Rocky make gift for Simon. Surprise gift," the text-to-speech voice Adrian chose comes from the translator, "why Simon not watch movie, question?"

"I've seen this one tons of times with you, your missus, and my.." Adrian tilts at Simon's hesitation, "And Ryland. It doesn't make it anymore easy to understand on the hundreth watch."

"Adrian no understand movie but still watch."

"Right, it's kinda different for me," Simon scoffed, lacking any malice.

"Why, question?"

"Mm.. Too human? But still too.. Too different.. uncanny?"

"Ah, Adrian understand. Have same feeling about Earth spiders."

Simon leaned in a little to their warmth, side-eyeing the teacher and his temporary assistant for the day.

"Why are they like that?"

"Adrian ask same question sometimes."

"Really?" he kinda smirks, "you never struck me as the kind of rock to be, well, upset.. about.. that..?"

"Does Simon think Adrian not get jealous?"

"No, no, I'm sure you do. 'Specially with the weird many-mates thing on this planet. Not too unusual for where I come from, just.. not preferred in my eyes. You know?"

"Mm, understand. Only one mate for Adrian. Never admit out loud before but… Scared Rocky might choose multiple mate when Grace arrive on Erid."

"Oh, wow. Yeah, that's.. hm.."

"Rocky assured Adrian that not happen. Multiple soulmate. But different kind. Different love."

"Hmm."

Adrian trilled, a soothing melody to Simon's ears, "Simon not have to worry about Rocky stealing Simon mate."

"'Xcuse me?"

"Simon stop beating around the bush, when, question?"

"Never, statement. That's.. no.. I can't do that to Grace."

"Simon afraid of death. Gets to live again. Live with Grace. Afraid of Grace.. Catch what Adrian throws? When Grace and Simon have magic movie moments, question?"

"You need to stop letting that shit get to your head, Adrian."

"What is meaning of explitive?"

"What? Shit?"

"Yes."

"Oh! Hohoho, I can't wait to change up some words in the translator for you."

—

A few weeks later, after Grace allows the mounted specimen to stabilize beneath one of the Xenonite frames Rocky brought down during their lessons on museums, after several movie nights with the usual trio, after an Earth-focused trivia night, and the subsequent Pebble lesson plan baked from the same concept, after a day in the greenhouse, after working on finalizing his most recent report for the Eridian science team, after a few late nights with Simon—confiding in the other, enjoying the silence, the small warm embraces—he still can't find it within himself to stop being a coward.

He side eyes the pinned branch. It's been dry and ready for the longest time now. He worries over it. He worries over Simon's reaction. He worries over what to say.

He worries about the feelings that have certainly always been there.

He replays guilty memories of finding the unconscious man attractive, he replays memories of Simon's first reluctant smile. He remembers the first walk, trying to get Simon to get used to his imbalanced state, how badly he wanted Simon to ask for help—how bad he wanted to be his support—and how badly he wants to be his support whenever the night terrors wrack through him. How badly he aches when the same comes his way, how much he comes to yearn for the feeling of Simon's arm pulling him in and rubbing soothing circles into his shoulder blade.

He replays memories of Simon's gentleness hidden beneath the pain and torment that his old life offered him.

He thinks of the quiet, thoughtful expression Simon constantly has resting on his face.

He thinks of the tense moment, when he offered to wash the blood caked in Simon's hair out, how relief animated him forward when Simon agreed.

He thinks of the somber words they exchanged about their histories, the common thread between them both.

And maybe Simon eases his homesickness.

And maybe Simon could give him a semblance of Earth, despite coming from a space station off-planet, from some other universe, God knows how and why.

And maybe Simon is the answer to the questions he's been asking? Maybe Grace won't linger on that for too long.

And maybe Simon could be okay, because Grace has found it in himself to obtain a hint of that in this life.

And maybe Simon could love him back.

He grabs the gift and marches forward, so his feet won't fail him, so he won't chicken out. Because if he can turn a ship around to save the only being in the universe who ever understood what it was like to be surrounded by the corpses of your friends, to risk your life for life—then he could do it for the only man in another universe who could understand what it was like to be a sacrificial beast of burden.

So, maybe he could love him back.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

—

Eventually Simon gets to the point where he hardly needs the translator, either.

So he spends more time around the Eridians. He lingers around the classroom, sometimes, too, helping Grace with setting up for the day's lesson.

He sticks around to watch Grace ramble in his natural element, a carefree heave to his shoulders, the constant adornment of a smile, the cozy way his clothes and his cardigan clutched onto him.

Simon's been getting used to the warmth that finds its way into him, it's leagues better than the overwhelming, sweltering heat of his former life sentence.

He joins Rocky and some of his colleagues in a makeshift workshop on one side of the biodome, before they all have to return to their appropriate atmosphere. Synthesized ammonia isn't infinite, after all.

He gets routine checkups from Armando, but Sandy stops by sometimes to inquire about his health. Sandy might've grown slightly attached.

But most of his time is spent in the greenhouse, with Adrian and Arber. Occasionally Rosalind stops by. Along with some other Eridians he doesn't catch the name of. Rosalind always stops by with news of recent propagations and their genetic studies and Simon is enraptured by the science that goes on around him.

He thinks he's more of an arts type of guy, when Rocky gifts him some stone paper and charcoals. He tears up at the present as it drudges up the past. Rocky pats his leg, attempting to comfort him. It makes him laugh, wet laughter full of snot and tears.
But maybe life on Erid means being a jack of all trades. A lot of Eridians seem to wear multiple hats around here.

It's during such a day—Simon wearing multiple metaphorical hats—tending to the greenhouse and ssketching some of his favorite plants, that he feels it inching it's way up his spine, into his lungs, and into his vision.

All because he pricks himself on a thorn.

He trembles, his mind replays the screaming, the groaning of metal, the blood.

There are faces trapped in the flesh, blood is hellfire, he is surrounded by the souls of his fellow damned.

People describe the end as a flash before their eyes, seven minutes of the most memorable scenes in their life before it cuts off. Forever. Darkness persists and you no longer do.

Simon has felt that before, in prison, in Eden, on Filament Station, in accidents in his youth. During his supposed final moments on the iron lung.
He never expected to feel it when doing something so mundane, something so safe.
He was promised he'd be safe.

He was never safe, because this was never real, was it?

He shakes his head, trying to convince himself otherwise, but he feels it.
Where his arm still dangles above him, the boils tearing away at his skin, the anger, the pain beyond pain. This could all be the hopeful dream of a dead man.

The brain can hallucinate some pretty drastic things to convince itself of its safety before inevitably giving into the end, because entropy eventually decays, and that's where the chaos of life unravels—at the end of a life long lived or a life wrongly lived or a life undeserved. That's the word Simon lands on.

He's an observer to a dream.
He made up the idea of some larger than life, handsome, wonderful, funny, silly, stupid Savior of the Universe, because he wanted someone to come and save him, so so badly. He made up a hero and he gave him some of his own life, without the hopelesssness of it all, because he wanted to overcome. He wanted to have hope. He wanted it more than anybody.
And it would've been so great if he had someone there with him, anyone at all. So, an alien would suffice.
More than suffice, he'd be a vehicle for that hope.
He'd have someone to be brave for.

He blinked.

And he wasn't back in that submarine, he was being held by something extremely warm and rigid.
Oh.
Shaking, his head slowly turned to face Adrian. He grasped onto the arm that held him still.
He didn't even notice that they were gliding their claws over his head, through his hair, tapping so lightly it was hardly even considered as such.
Simon nodded as best he could, through the shaking, through the aching muscles, through the endless well of tears.

"Do you want to talk, Simon?"

Simon shook his head.

"Let me know if you do, dear human."

Simon nodded, lip quivering, tears still streaming down his face.

Adrian also seemed to be rocking him. It was soothing. Everything about them was. They were his rock, pun kind of intended.

There was silence hanging over them, not lacking in comfort. Serene, interrupted by the sound of Adrian cooing. It sounded like the lullabies his mom used to hum for him. He squished his cheek further into Adrian's arm. His grip loosened, his heartbeat slowed, his breathing calmed.
He made the decision to release some of the tension in him, to attempt to speak it out of existence. Because Adrian asked if he wanted to and he found himself able to choose and that was something he could choose to do.

"I think that was a panic attack," he muttered.

"Grace has had those sometimes."

Simon frowned, "I know."

"Why were you panicking, Simon?"

"I saw blood," he shuddered, breathing in a harsh breath through his teeth, "blood was my eternal tomb until your people found me."

They listened, not once did they seek more answers. Simon was grateful.

"Sometimes, I think it's all too good to be true. And maybe it is. I have a hard time believing that I'm not still there. Maybe I'm some version of Simon that got to live because of God and a tree that split us apart, because He decided it would be, just like he decided The Quiet Raptue would be and.. Tch. Isn't that horrible? To be some version of the real deal, just.. trapped with the memory of his pain?"

He trembles again, "It feels like being a witness to my own life sometimes. Like I'm not embedded in reality. I become too aware of my breathing, of my body, of me. There's buzzing in my ears. And I think, sometimes, that maybe the blood is still in there. That the thing from the blood is inside of me. That I cannot be anything more than…" he chokes up on his own words, bitign his lip shut.

"And I get so scared that it could happen again, you know? It happened twice. First with The Rapture, then with me, what if it takes this away, too?"

He runs his fingernails through his hair, welting his scalp, "What does Grace know about God? About the joy He finds in cruelty, huh? Or maybe God disappeared with the rapture—but that wouldn't.. no…" he shook his head, scratching, scratching, scratching still, "what if He takes you from me? Or Rocky? Or Grace? God, what if He takes away the only joy I have ever…"

Adrian gently grabs his hand, tugging it away from his scratched-up skin.

"There's this concept Grace explained to us," they began, hoping to invoke their calm over the panicked man, "Earth scientists call it The No-Hiding Theorem. [Sagan] really liked that name—we're ambush predators, you know.. And like all theories, it is a fact of reality, perhaps it's similar to your original universe, too."
Adrian hummed, "There could be many universes out there, operating under different rules. Maybe there's a common throughline. And I could speculate all day about what that is. Rocky told me about the beginning and the end, there could be many ways it happens, scientists have speculations, our physicists have explanations. But there's really no concrete way of knowing, is there? Not unless we live until the very end, and who knows how that would be?"
"Most theories speculate the end in relation to the death of the stars, finally expending all of their energy. Maybe yours came to an end when the stars died, but ours didn't end, because our stars did not die. Becaue Grace and Rocky did the impossible. Maybe that's the common idea. A reset that starts with a single falling piece, producing a chain effect. Maybe with so little entropy left in your universe, you were transported here in one final act of it? I mean, all information within a system transfers, because it cannot be destroyed or created out of thin air, I mean you were not simply formed from nothing, you came from somewhere—that's sort of what that theorem entails—maybe this universe is a part of a larger system of universes. And that is the common thread."
Adrian's long-winded explanation fell calm in its rhythm, "Or maybe you are here, because you wanted to be here, and your universe leaned in to listen."
After they let their voice ring through the silence, they continued, "And now our universe is yours, too. Yours is distant, gone. Silent. That's why your moon is gone and you stayed. And isn't that wonderful? Maybe we could be this universe's version of listening. It heard your cries, and it heard our pleas, and it heard the mysteries of love. It heard you and your mate," Simon didn't rebute, "And thought to fold the universe(s) to bring you together. Just as it brought Grace and Rocky together, how else could our science be so closely matched anyway? And just as it brought my Rocky back to me," they expelled ammonia from their vents, into their suit, continuing on that note, "Or maybe there is no such grand explanation, nothing to be understood, but that."

Simon was speechless. Tears slowed in their descent over his face. What could one respond to something like that with? Simon wasn't a poet in any sense, despite how smart and quick-witted he was, he couldn't match the speed of his thoughts to the slowness of his tongue.

So his simple response came, "Are you religious, at all?"

The pair burst out in laughter. Adrian chirped, Simon let the air heave out of his gut, eyes cry-tired.

"Surprisingly? No. I don't really know what to believe in. Besides this, besides life. It's why I became an astrobiologist. I believe in you and your place in the universe, Simon."

"Thank you, Adrian. For everything."

He resolved to let Adrian do the talking once more.

—

Grace happens upon what seemed to be a sleeping Simon seated in Adrian's arms.

Adrian almost seems to look up at him.

"Ah, we were just talking about you," Adrian joked.

"Oh, yeah? All good things I hope. What happened?"

He sat down next to them, crossing his legs, holding the pressed plant over his knee.

"We merely spoke, is all."

"Hm. Okay."

"Is that Simon's gift you made in class?"

"It is, MOM. Thanks for PRYING."

"You're welcome."

Grace shakes his head, fondly.

"I take it you were ready?"

"I was. I finally was.. Do.. you think he is, too?"

"He's been ready, Grace."

"You know, I had a whole speech prepared and everything. Why did you have to go and tire him out with your 'merely speaking'?"

"Well, you were, in part, the subject of our conversation. Maybe YOU tired him out, Grace. But I have a suggestion, instead, why don't you practice on me? I'll give you some pointers and feedback."

"Wingman Adrian."

"Well.. yes! I want my Rocky back. I want to get him fi—"

"Okay! I, ah, I don't—I don't want to hear about what you want to do to Rocky… I.. I don't know how to start this either."

"I thought you had a whole speech prepared, Grace."

"Yeah, but it feels different now."

"Performance anxiety already?"

He was glad they couldn't see his face heat up, "What's up with you and the raunchiness today, Adrian?"

"Emotional day.. Okay, how about, on the count of λ? First thing that comes to mind, then have your magic movie moment."

"R-right.."

"I."

Grace nods.

"V."

He nods once more.

"λ."

"OK! I think the moment you arrived on Erid is one of the greatest moments of my life, Si. Not that… you being in pain was.. Great—Gosh, what is wrong with me? Maybe I should've done this the Eridian way—"

"I'm biased. You should've."

"—But I don't know how to go about courting gestures and relationships and I know that's not the best thing to say when doing this sort of thing…"

"You might be blowing this, Grace."

"But I don't, ah, sorry.. Getting nervous. And he's not even listening! I just.. I want him to know that I don't know anything more human than this feeling, than a cheesy, messy love confession, and a handmade gift, and.. Gosh, I feel like a stupid teenager."

"Could use a little workshopping,"

"I think I'm too nervous to say all the things I want to say. All the ways in which he's so lovely. All the good he deserves," Grace's hand finds it's way to brush aside a long, dark strand of Simon's hair back, "The way that nothing would change, but things wouldn't stay the same—how he's helped make Erid feel more like home."

"I think you sort of just did."

Simon's mouth twitched.

"Yeah. I thought it was pretty good," he mumbled, eyes still closed.

"What."

One of his eyes popped open, deep brown iris glinting at Grace, "No one ever said anything about sleep, Ryland."

Ryland was sure Simon could see the red in his face, "No, that was so unfair! You guys set me up! I wanted—Noooo," he buried his face in his hands.

"No better way to do it, Ryland. Your own words"

Simon reached up for Grace's wrist, pulling it away from his face.

"C'mere. There's enough space for both of us down here."

Grace pushed through his embarrassment and let Simon pull him down, to the warmth between Adrian's arms, embraced in Simon's now, too. Their voice warbled at them, affection in their tone.

"For the record, my love confession wouldn't've been any better. Get your ego boost, Ry."

Ryland smirked, sidelong, at Adrian. Who flicked him lightly.

—

Rocky and Grace stood in the corner of the greenhouse, watching the other Eridian-human pair transfer a potted plant to the ground. Whispering amongst themselves.
Grace squinted, sipping his synthetic coffee, "Why are they doing that? You can hear them."

"I can hear them. It's very inappropriate. Very, very, very."

Simon threw a smug grin at Ryland, taking joy in the visible shrink that occurred in the slightly older man's demeanor.

"They're doing this on purpose."

"Obvious statment.. statement."

"They've gotten close, huh?"

Rocky was silent for a moment, garnering the attention of Grace's side glance, "Tell your mate to watch his back, Grace."

"Relax, Buddy," as if on cue, Simon barked out a laugh, Grace proceeded to take a sip, staring down his coffee, "I think your mate already told him."

"Tell him he's no longer welcome in my shop."

Adrian's notes rang of laughter. 

"Well, hey, that's no fair. We still have to give him the thing, y'know?"

Adrian relayed this information to the human as well, if his stopping in his tracks was anything to go by. Simon began his approach, slinging his gloves over his shoulders, swiping a loose strand of hair back, toward his bun, all in one fell swoop.

Grace ogled, unashamedly.

He stopped in front of the other human, and leaned into Grace's space, a playful smile tugging at his lips, "A gift, for me?"

"I don't know," Grace feigned nonchalance, looking away from his mate, "does my mate deserve it for making fun of me?"

"Making fun of you? I think I've been doing a pretty good job this whole time."

"Wrong answer," he turned to Rocky, "shall we abandon our mates as they've abandoned us?"

"Let's."

"Rocky, Foremost Savior of the Stars, Mate to Adrian, Prodigal Engineer of Erid, Song from the Central Winds of Erid."

Everyone froze at the bombardment of scornful whistles ringing from Adrian's vents.
Rocky turned slowly, showing them a display of full regard and slight intimidation. He inched closer, "Yes, my harmony?"

Their stern tone was playful now, "Unban the human from your workspace!"

"Wha--seriously?!"

"And show us what you and Grace have been working on," a claw lightly grabbed Rocky's arm, tapping a soothing rhythm into the surface, "please?"

"Of course, I will… For Grace's pitiful sake."

"Rude, statement."

Adrian shook disapprovingly, still full of amusement.

In Rocky's temporary workshop, Grace motioned for the human-Eridian crowd to come over to a shapely object covered in his quilt.

"Usually these sort of unveilings use pristine, eggshell-colored sheets.. At least in terms of Earth media—like cartoons and some superhero action films. Right? Museum unveilings! That's another thing—but I don't have a white sheet to make this more dramatic—"

He thumbs the corner of one of the more colorful patterns, readying to pull, "but this should do just fine!"

He tugged with a little wriggle of his elbows, a proud sniffle of his nose, and a small grin.

"Tada!"

"Tada!"

Simon's mouth was slightly agape, he'd be one pretty hard read, if Grace were anyone else. There was a slight furrow in Simon's brow, despite how hard he tried to train his expression. His hands were wobbling.
Grace was one to wear his heart on his sleeve, or on his face, rather. He frowned, beginning to explain himself, "I don't expect you to just.. accept it on face value, right? I mean, we worked so hard on your physical therapy journey, hah—it's just.. I thought it'd be something you'd like to have occasionally. You can choose to wear it, or not!"

"It was fun to work on. But a gift isn't always an obligation."

"R-right," Simon's lips were nearly meld shut as he approached the arm. "I'm just.." Grace bit his lip in anticipation.

"In shock, I guess."

Grace nodded, drumming his hands against his legs, in his usual awkward habit.

"The closest I've gotten to a gift before this was my pendant in the submarine.. and then they became so frequent here… I know what you're going to say…" he shook his head, "But it's hard to think I deserve this."

Grace placed a hand to Simon's shoulders, "No, you deserve so much more."

Grace swiped the tears creeping their way down Simon's cheeks, before leaning his head onto his shoulder, an unusally brave move. To be fair, it wasn't hard to be brave on Erid, it was so easy to be comfortable, what he had with Simon was constant comfort. One of his hands rubbed his left shoulder, right above the stump where his arm was stolen from him. Over the scars left behind from the boils, and if Grace moved further up, his hand would find the rough terrain that the teeth were protruding from. And the smile that bent the flesh there.

Beneath hooded eyes and gleaming irises, Simon spoke reverently, "I could kiss you, Ryland Grace."

Ryland replied with a bashful shrug, "Heh, you could. Anything you wanted, it's yours."

Nothing more was spoken.

So Simon pressed his lips to Grace's cheek; chaste, but not lacking in all the love he was capable of sharing. This is what he wanted, so it would do perfectly. 

—

Rocky leaned on Grace's side, his xenonite suit prodding into his rib, "What was it called again?"

"What?"

"The Earth word you used to describe this horrible, horrible feeling."

"Well, I used the word salty. You're acting a bit, er, salty. Though, I think my Earthling students would've cringed at my usage of it," he leafed through the next page of his book, rubbing his socks onto Rocky's arm, the sensation providing a tingly warm comfort.

"Well, I don't like it. I don't like how you're being more mature about it than me."

"Actually, Rock, I'm seething," he emphasized with an abrasive brush of his pen on the margins of his book, making a tiny, sloppy annotation, "But that's not fair to our mates, is it?"

"I wanted to do karaoke," Rocky'd vents seemed to groan, "or literally anything that didn't involve my mate being cozied up with yours, doing something absolutely lame.."

"I feel like I should be insulted about your complaints?"

"You should. This is [lowkey] your fault."

"Gosh, now you have me cringing, stop that," he poked Rocky's suit with his pen.

"You've gotten so boring, Grace. Boring, boring, boring."

"Alright, I got it."

Rocky starfished out upside down, like a pebble. His three hind limbs hanging off the back of the couch.

"Okay, are you just doing this on purpose?"

"Grace. I'm bored. I miss my mate. Your's has them in a stupid arts and crafts class."

"You should be glad they're getting along, that they're giving us time to ourselves, that your mate is expanding their repertoire of skills—"

"Repertoire?"

"—And that I'm not acting like a silly pebble about it, either."

"You totally should. You should get on my level, be pebble with me, Grace. It's rather stress relieving, actually."

"Fine," Grace snapped his book shut, shimmied around, and complained about his aching bones while he was at it, "And if the blood rushes to my head?"

"We'll get Armando to save you."

"Gee, my hero."

His lanky arms, which have gone slightly flabbier in his time on Erid, knocked into Rocky's. Scars meeting almost scorching, clear xenonite.

Grace paused, he hummed, then he spoke, "You're kinda right."

"I'm always right, be more specific, Grace."

"They're doing pottery… Pottery sucks… I was never a big fan of freakin' pottery!"

"Haha! YESSS. Complain with me!"

"….There are at least five Eridians in the biodome and you're not afraid of them hearing?"

'I don't fear anything!"

"Uh-huh."

—

Simon chortled, "What else were they saying?"
"They're just gossiping now," Sandy emphasized, slapping a glob of clay onto the turnstile.
One of them whistled with laughter, "See, I've been saying that same thing about [Citrine], too."
"Do not agree with Savior Grace about my science partner, it'd hard enough to remain unbiased," Sandy responded to the Eridian.
Adrian leaned toward Simon, as though whispering their translation, "Citrine's got a kleptomania problem."
"Ohhh."
"They do not! They have a problem with making assumptions about what stuff they can recycle—-"
"Rocky says we should stage an intervention soon—"
"—Savior Grace mentions losing a pair of socks."
"I did hear Citrine got a new bag recently, the thing was some sort of fiber-based creation, I didn't recognize it as anything Eridian."
"Well there you go."
"That explains everything then."
"Ugh, now they're being sappy."
Adrian shook their carapace, "They're just like that."
"Why do they pet each other so often?"
"I'm sure it's comforting."
"Must sound nice—"
Adrian followed their sentence up with a heavy thud of their claw against their own pile of mud sitting before them. Simon placed a hand to his forehead, "You know, the whole idea behind this was to test out the prosthesis. Not gossip."
"Community's here to help with the test, a little gossip is the heart of all community."
"Ah, sure."
"Touch the clay," Sagan droned, Simon's shoulders hunched a little.
"[Sagan], you're weirding him out," Rosalind smacked the other Eridian.
"Tell us how it feels, if there's anything that needs to be adjusted."
"I'm sure your mate will scurry down here in a hurry to fix the issue," Sandy jabbed.
"Uhh.. was that aimed at me or Adrian?"
The group joined each other in a small bought of laughter.
"It'd be true either way, I think."
"Rocky confirms," Arber's tone was mischievous, pausing, as if listening, "For both of them."
They all find delight in the distant, simultaneous conversation once more.
Simon notices his cheeks have been aching lately, he's never really utilized the muscles around his face to smile this much. He drives the xenonite hand forward and guides the fingers over the mound of clay. Everyone listesn in with anticipation.

Subsequently, everyone is splattered with wet clay once Simon's grip finds the soil.

"Your respective mates are both on their way," Rosalind stated simply, wiping the clay from their face.

—

Ryland remembers his favorite walk in San Francisco being the beach. Through cold, foggy weather. On a beautiful sunny day. After work, after stops at his favorite diner for his favorite meal, after hours during his graduate career, stuck in the lab working with intestinal epithelium and spending ages troubleshooting the crummy cell electrophoresis machines—some of them were a few of the most ancient pieces of equipment the building had, yet the dean of the college of science refused to replace them, not to mention all the old machinery left behind from when the university was still segregated by sex and, hell, maybe even race.

Everything new and shiny ALWAYS went to the compsci people, too, he'd shake his fist.

And still, a small breath of ocean air would save him, it forever did.

He doesn't remember why he ever stayed in San Fransisco to complete his postdoc research, either, but he did. And you know what? He was glad he switched from the private university to the state college. No more repressed Catholic shenanigans getting in the way of his degree plans, that's for sure. There wasn't much a fragmented mind could regret, anyway.

He definitely didn't regret the brief stints of nightlife he got to experience after the switch, either. Hovering around Marissa at Jolene's. She was too generous in calling him her wingman.

He missed being recognized by the waistaff at the diner and their light, blissful, polite conversation. If he were sick and twisted enough, he'd ask the Eridians to replicate the diner, for old time's sake.

And when he'd stumble around drunk, after a particularly awful night—the breakup with Linda, which he was heartbroken over himself for all the wrong reasons, comes to mind, he'd find himself staring down the high tide and the moon gawking at him from overhead. He'd come to realize, that the heartbreak could be attributed to the concept of 'Comphet' that one of his students at Grover Cleveland Middle introduced him to, after getting him to sponsor the SGA in his third year of teaching.

He spent that night standing with his wet socks in the sea, hands in his pockets, finally having a word for the heartbreak. He noted that he should ask Marissa about it. He never did.

So he'd stare at the water, he'd take in the breeze, and the moon singing just for him.

Beautiful moon, that shifts the seas, whose borrowed light hit the endless waves with all the grace that Ryland could never covet of his own name.

In his inebriated stupor, he'd recall, his hands cupping his face, elbows resting on knees, butt sitting on rock. The ethyls in his brain making him leak, leak, leak.

Not that he wasn't prone to crying often.

There was all the bliss in finding yourself near the sea.

In this moment, he wanted to guide Simon to the same scene, a similar sea.

"Its freezing," he hissed, trembling legs trudging through the shore, lapping gentle at his ankles. Both hands—xenonite and flesh—gripped onto Ryland like his life relied on it.

"Yeah, Biodome team's been working on that."

"We've been testing out ranging temperatures to simulate the changes in an Earth year. Keeps your mind stimulated," Adrian replied from their spot curled in the sand. A small line is etched into the ground at their feet, something they did in idle thought.

Rocky plopped down beside them, kicking up the soil all around him. He nuzzled into their heat.

"Hm, didn't know that."

"Apologies, Grace, lots going on. Forgot to update you."

"I share the blame, too," Rocky joined in, tone gentle, as though he were afraid to interrupt the timid serenity of the moment.

"I'm grateful, anyway. Feels homey."

Simon shook his head, instinctively ducking into Grace, "feels.. ch-chilling."

Ryland glanced at him with so much kindness and gentle understanding, it was sickening, "Hey, we don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"No! Want to—Just—-" he gulped, "not good with oceans, y'know?"

"I know, Big guy. Don't worry. I've got you."

He nodded frantically, between gulps for air and swallowing down of saliva, "It's just water. Not gonna hurt me!"

"It's good for you, actually," Grace's voice replied, so so sweetly.

Simon's nodding was less frantic this time, "Good for me."

He looked up at Grace, soaking him in, "Good—Good for me."

Grace's smile was like taking in the sight of the stars—the actual stars, not ghostlight or simulation—or maybe sitting in the sun, as close as he could get to it, anyway. He imagined the Earth mythologies Grace helped dredge up, things at the back of his consciousness. A boy with wax wings and feathers, who never got burned for his proximity to this celestial body.

Simon managed a few feet into the water, before it would begin its creep into his mind. A shadow overcast on his beautiful day.

He opted to sit back with Adrian and watch Ryland splash in the water, youth returning to his face. His laugh was obnoxious and boyish. Simon could feel it infect him, just a bit. He leaned against Adrian's still form.

"You awake?"

"Of course, no one to watch me."

"You have three people around you right now."

"I just mean that everyone's busy with their watching already."

Simon flustered a bit. Yeah, you know what? He's got no shame. He let his eyes trail over the other human. He has no need for shame anymore, "True."

"Besides, I'm busy watching, too. And someone is getting antsy just sitting here, watching. Stationary. Ready to—"

Rocky bounced up on all five limbs and bounded toward the water. "Go."

"…"

"Told you."

"You know him so well."

"Well, it's been nearly 200 years, I should."

Simon huffed, amused, "I take it he was like this before the whole space mission, too?"

"Somewhat. He's perpetually bouncy, I'll give you that, but never in a rush to do things. Eridians are good at multitasking, Rocky is exemplary at it."

"They told me about what happened out there. Space'll change ya."

"I'm the only one here who hardly relates to that."

"Well, it did change you, no? Your whole job revolves around space, your mate came back from space different. So you're different, in part, too."

"Right, I suppose I just meant the physical part. But.. you make a good argument, Simon."

Simon allowed his head to fall limp against their suit, observing the chase Rocky began after Ryland—who was tripping over short waves. His shoulders jumped with laughter at the sight of Rocky grabbing Ryland from behind, hauling him into the air, and lifting him up and down a few times, weighing almost nothing to the Eridian.

Ryland's protests and snorts permeated the air alongside Rocky's pevbble-like squealing with joy.

Simon's snorts, "Mm, yea, I've found the word for it."

"For what?"

"What they're like."

"Oh yeah? Tell me."

He mutters it, like telling a secret, in a gossipy tone, "So, they're like.. disgustingly codependent, right?"

Adrian giggled, "Yeah. That's the word."

They settled into each other further, enjoying the splashing war the other human-Eridian pair had started.

….

Grace exits their shared home, crossing his arms, letting gravity pull him against the doorframe. Something small and fond makes it's ascent on his face. He clears his throat. Simon turns his head, an eyebrow quirked up, a smirk to match his curiosity at the noise. His hair waves in the wind like chimes.

Grace feels the need to brush it aside. It's a constant need. So, he does.

Grace joins in on the solitude, sitting beside him on the steps leading home. He cups a cheek in his hand, laying against one of his angled knees, taking in the sight of the healing man. His eyes trail over the restful expression on the other's face, admiring the deepened wrinkles of his smile line, the harsh line at the middle between his brows softened, and the dark color of his eyes capturing the artificial sunlight and cradling it with adoration. Like nothing holier could exist.

Simon blinks, turning as he does, facing the other. A new muse set in his brown and russet eyes. They crinkle as his smile deepens.

Simon holds out his right hand, Grace grabs it. Interlocks their fingers, slowly and delicately. So that his digits could mark the path that they were familiar with again, a path covered with callouses and peeks of plush skin and scars from prison fights and fights with the unspeakable. A sigh brings his shoulders closer to the ground. A head finds its way to one of them, bringing in that familiar warmth with it. He feels the press of lips to the bone hidden beneath skin, muscle, and clothing, but it's so miniscule, it could've been imagined. It was something he often did imagine, too.

"Rocky and Adrian'll be on their way soon."

"I know," he responds, hushed.

"Don't tell Rocky this, but I chose La La Land."

"He's going to be upset with you, Ry."

"Hm hm, I know."

"What do you think Adrian'll say?"

"I'm not sure."

"Their favorite's not really The Sound of Music."

Grace gasped, causing Simon to pull back, "No way."

"Oh yeah, they told me, when Rocky was outside of the dome once. They only liked it because Rocky told them the love story reminded him of them."

"Wow," Grace whistles, "You two sharing secrets? New friendship level achieved."

Simon squints at him, through smirked lips, "What's that tone for, Angel?"

Ryland feigns perplextion, "What do you mean?"

"You're a bad liar, Dr. Grace, don't play coy now."

Ryland shrugs, looking off to the side, "I don't know what you're getting at, Si."

"Okay," Simon drums his hands against his thighs, the silence stilled by their conversation. He leans forward a little, as he continues, trying to act innocuous, "we talk about you sometimes."

"Oh, I know, don't you worry."

"That tone, Ry."

He pulls his hands up, defensive, "I don't know what you're talking about, seriously!"

"Oh my God."

"What?"

"You're jealous!"

"Guh—! NO I am NOT. Jealousy is for gradeschoolers and pebbles, Simon."

"You seriously cannot be jealous with the way you are with Rocky."

"..Are you jealous?"

"What? No way!"

"You and I read from the same holybook once, Simon."

Simon sputters at the abrupt change of subject, "Huh?"

"Or at least whatever version of it got around to your time and space. Granted I had to read it 'cause it was a part of the core curriculum when I was taking classes for my master's degree—-of course, didn't matter that I was in my late 20's with my schedule packed with TA-ing and brain smeltering grad level courses I had to get out of the way—I was required, like any other student at the university, undergraduate or graduate, to take a bible study class. 'Cause it was a shitty private Catholic institution."

"You cursed—!"

"And, because I was a stuck up athiest attending a Catholic school against my will—and here's why—yea, I'll tell you why, because my family was willing to continue covering my tuition if I made the switch from a liberal arts college to a private one for graduate school—and the financial aid on top of that was my tempter. As well as being raised Catholic—my dad is Irish, you see, but not really the cool, anti-colonial kind like you'd think, since he's Catholic—"

"We need more Earth cultural lessons eventually, I'm only catching like half of what you're telling me, Angel."

"My point is—I studied theology and the history of the bible alongside the bullshit they'd spew. I made it my mission to know about the additions made to the Christian holybook. Did you know the seven deadly sins were originally a Greek theologian thought translated into Latin that was popularized by Dante's Inferno?"

"Another penny for the swear jar."

"Looks like the pop culture phrases are catching on well."

"Mhm. I figure you're not finished? Continue, please, Angel."

"Right, well, among these sins—these hell-damning vices—Is envy."

"Ahh."

"So, envy is a sin you know."

"I know. We're both guilty of it."

"Are we now?"

"Don't even joke, Ry."

"So, this makes us even."

"This makes you a hypocrite, actually."

Ryland huffed indignantly, "I am a bit salty that they managed to get you to open up before I did."

"Is that what they told you?"

"I didn't need them to tell me. I saw it happen, Si."

"Well… so long as we're admitting stuff. I suppose I'm jealous of how incomparable I am to Rocky.. How much you didn't need me when I wasn't around."

"Simon.."

"Think about it, you were set, you had your best friend, his wife, a home all to yourself, and the beach to wander with them whenever you pleased."

"But then who would watch me sleep?"

"Rocky, if you asked."

"But I don't have to ask you. You simply do, you know."

Simon grumbled, "I'm jealous and that's fine. You are and that's okay, too.. Can we move on?"

Grace brought a hand up to the tooth-covered cheek, drawing circles into the skin that the teeth jutted out of, "We could, but I get a say in this, too. And I say… No one could love me like you, Sunshine."

Simon's lips twitched at the term of endearment, eyes beginning to gloss over.

"And I couldn't love anyone else like I love you."

The dam broke, the waterworks started, they met each other in a gentle kiss. The first of many, if the stomach-flipping fireworks popping was any sign to follow.
They slotted into the other with near perfection, plush lips against thin, smile against smile. Tears for tears. Ryland's dull warmth to Simon's heat.

Simon brought his arm up, curling his fist into Grace's hair, his xenonite limb grasping into the other's stupid punny shirt. This grasp was his stave, and if he let go, he'd be scared of falling back into the blood ocean for a moment.

He was first to pull back for air, unfortunately, but Ryland kept him grounded still—whispering, "Can I get a do-over on that whole confession?"

"No such thing, Angel. Besides, it was perfectly Grace-coded."

Grace blew one of Simon's stray hairs out of his face in their closeness, "Can't we pretend?"

"I don't like playing pretend. And, you know, lying is a sin, too."

Ryland retreated from Simon, giggling childishly. Simon saw the sunlight in his hands in that moment. He slid his prosthetic limply over Ryland's thigh. His other hand cupped Ryland's cheek, Ryland grabbed his wrist in return, looking at Simon with all the reverie of an angel, himself.

"I love you," short, simple, sweet.

"You are the greatest anomaly to ever occur, Simon, and I'm angry that the universe didn't bring us together sooner."

"You always gotta one-up me, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

The couple traded whispers, exonerating the other, like the planet was capable of sharing their secrets—though it's inhabitants certainly were. Ryland began another side tangent when Simon cracked a joke, the concept of Earth-based marriage came up. Ryland explained his feelings on the matter. From his Americanized perspective. Simon asked about Eridian-style 'weddings'. To which Grace compared the ritual to an Eridian-style 'mating ceremony'. Both resolved to asking their Eridian about the concept. Simon kept the human idea of wedding rings in his backlog for the future. What was the rush, anyway? He could idle around, do things at his own pace, choose what he did, when he did it.
He'd already chosen Grace anyway.
He emphasized the thought with another press of his lips to the other man's. Illiciting a soft sigh from Ryland as they tangled their fingers together and leaned into the other for no other reason than that they could and that they wanted.

The sound of familiar strides and scuttles snapped them out of their shared throne in their castle in the air.

Adrian's smug voice carried over the air, "Were we interrupting something?"

Ryland grinned like an idiot, "Not at all. We were just having a moment."

He pulled Simon up, ushering them inside.

"Now, don't hate me, but we're not watching what you requested."

Rocky fell to the joints on his legs that closest resembled knees, "NOOOO! ROCKY HATE GRACE!!!"

They curled onto the couch, sharing Grace's quilt, sharing Grace-and-Rocky's laptop, sharing the sort of heat that reminded Grace of roasting marshmallows with his family during Christmas time as a kid. Or maybe making a campfire with his dad.

And of all the things he'd missed of Earth, he held it in his hands, for just a moment.

His and Simon's met over one of the Eridians' limbs, as Rocky complained about the opening scene, next to Adrian admiring the lead actress's spunk. Their voices really did make for a pretty good harmony.