Work Text:
Stratt’s days, at this point, were very stressful. Meetings to attend, meetings to schedule, minutes to take, reports to write and share, people to talk to, the list went on.
Suffice to say, she hardly ever got a break. She was the sun, the dying star, churning constantly, never sleeping, always working to make sure someone or something was being fixed.
Unlike Sol, though, no one cared to save her.
No one but herself.
She was staring at her computer screen, words blurring to grey blobs, and she wanted to rest her head, close her computer, she wanted…
She wanted her mother.
Stratt blinked at that thought. She hadn’t seen nor spoken to her mother in over a decade, why would she now?
She pushed the thought aside and read some empty words on her screen, retaining nothing. She sighed and took off her glasses, rubbing her eyes.
It was only then that she was reminded that Grace was in the room with her.
“Stratt?” He asked, bewilderment lacing his voice. Stratt was going to brush him off, tell him to get back to work, but the words tangled in her head and she could barely string a sentence together.
Her head felt fuzzy at the edges, her body numb yet tingly with the urge to do something and nothing at all. She was tired, and stressed, and just wanted a break.
She sighed it sounded a bit like a whine and placed her head against her desk, shielding her eyes from the brightness of her screen.
She heard Grace get up and make his way to her.
“Stratt?” He asked, and she could feel the heat from his hand over her shoulder, and she shied away from it, and the usage of her name. She was so, so, tired of all the “Director Stratt” business.
She heard Grace swallow.
“Eva?” He asked, the name sounding unfamiliar on his tongue. She softened at that. That was her name, after all.
She heard Grace grab a chair and sit next to her, resting his arm on the desk, but not touching her.
“Eva, what’s wrong?” He asked, obviously concerned. She was supposed to be better than this, more composed, more…
She couldn’t think of the big words right now.
She tilted her head to look at Grace, her vision blurry with exhaustion. It was dark now, she noticed, as Grace must have closed her laptop. Through the haze she saw Grace soften with worry.
“Can I hug you?” He asked, his voice noticeably quieter. She faltered at the question. It had been so long since she’d been asked that, so long since she’d heard her real name, it’s had been so long since she had felt cared for.
She realized now how her body ached for contact, to feel the warmth of someone else’s skin as the weather got colder and colder. She nodded, albeit awkwardly given the position of her head, and Grace leaned in and wrapped his arms around her. She leaned into the touch, just so.
She didn’t know how much time had passed before he pulled away, and went to go grab something. She pushed her head off the desk, leaning against her chair now with her fingers gravitating toward her sweater collar. Her office was still too dark to see anything clearly, and anxiety buzzed in her head. She didn’t like the dark, but she supposed a little bit of fear was better than a headache.
Grace returned with a blanket, notepad, and pen. He set the blanket on the desk and she grabbed it immediately, wrapping it around her shoulders for some comfort.
The blanket, she realized, was one of her few personal items. A quilt she’d been given from her aunt. It was incredibly colorful, especially compared to her wardrobe.
Grace set the notepad and pen in front of her.
“Can you speak?” He asked, somewhat cautiously. She rubbed her fingers between the hem of her quilt and shook her head. Grace gestured to the notepad, and Eva connected the dots.
They sat in silence for a moment, Eva belatedly cycling through their conversation and getting stuck on something Grace had said.
(Eva, what’s wrong?)
So much was wrong. The sun was dying and she was in charge and nobody liked her and they were all scared of her and she worried sometimes that she was scared of herself, that she was loosing who she was for the sake of this mission and she was going to jail for things she didn’t want to be doing but knew she had to and she needed a break and someone to care and she missed her family and she was crying ——
She was crying. Pressure settled in her eyes and tears dropped onto the desk. A sob welled up in her throat, barely audible to someone else but monumental for her. It had been so long since she had shed tears. It had been so long since she had acted so childishly… and maybe that’s why she was so stressed.
She wrapped the quilt tighter around herself and heard Grace soothing her with empty words. She leaned against him, once again begging for human contact, and he seemed to oblige.
Her eyes felt heavy and her head felt fuzzy and she could barely move her hands properly and she would’ve just fallen asleep if it wasn’t for Grace getting up.
She didn’t whine. Absolutely not. She figured if she denied the fact that it happened, maybe it would change the fact that it did.
Grace came back with more things, this time two mugs.
She was handed one, and it looked to be tea with milk. She wasn’t a fan of tea, and on the rare occasions she did drink it, drank it black. Her fuzzy childish-brain didn’t seem to mind though, and took a few sips.
They both drank their tea in quiet before Grace stood and coaxed her to do so as well. She did so unstably, feeling like a baby deer as she moved to her office sofa and lay down. Grace sat next to her, and she leaned against him once more. First his shoulders, then falling to his chest, and eventually his lap.
He served as a very nice pillow her to drift off to sleep on.