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The ship trembles with each land from the mess of asteroids pelting the exterior. It’d been an hour since Simon’s initial warning of the bullets, and about twenty minutes from the first hit, and it only seemed to be getting worse.
Grace tried his best to remain calm. To keep himself collected and believe the simple assurances his colleague would offer, but from the second he first awoke in the metallic coffin, that’s all he’d been trying to do. Weeks of piecing his memory back together, adjusting to the reality of living amongst the inky black and glittering stars, trying to pin down exactly why he felt so anxiously concocted around the appointed engineer of the mission.
“Looks like it’s finally thinning out,” Simon’s professionalism keeps his tone stern and even, eyes roaming the screens that plastered the wall before the pilot’s chair. His hands dance around the buttons and knobs and dials, slipping over a few screens and nodding softly to himself as he seems satisfied with something in particular. Grace watches him from where he’s buckled into the co-pilot seat, fists gripping the arm rest and glasses light on his nose as zero-g drowns through the ship.
Another loud thunk against the ship makes Grace jump, his voice squeaking against his previously presumed control. Simon spares him a quick glance that looks a lot softer than it feels on the receiving end. Grace swallows.
“We’re okay,” Simon assures, some of the professionalism melting away as his eyes stay on Grace for a moment too long. His head whips back to the panels. “I designed this thing to take plenty of hits. She can get us through this.”
Three rough hits shutter the ship, rapping against the hull like knuckles, and the biggest screen inks red with a few alarms. Simon curses.
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Grace scoffs, squeezing his eyes closed and tucking his chin into his chest. Mary starts listing off a comprehensive list of the damage and what it affects throughout the ship, but Grace is too busy stuffing his ears with imaginary cotton and pretending that the reason he felt so weightless was because he was swimming.
“Yes, Mary. Close that line of vents and seal off doors E and F, please,” Simon’s voice gets through the fake plugs in Grace’s ear and he peaks back out from his tuck. The alarms have silenced, but the screen still flashes red and Simon’s hands flutter around the keys before him like some tech wizard in an early 2000’s spy movie.
To Grace’s (honest) surprise, the hits do start to lighten up. Only a hit every few minutes now.
“How’re you doing, Doctor?” Simon asks, eyes still glued to the panels and hands working overtime.
“I’m so sick of space,” Grace gasps out, shaking his head and forcing back a tickle in his throat. Simon chuckles sharply, flicking Grace a quick smirk.
“You’re doing great. Just a little bit longer. We’re almost in the clear now,” Simon looks up at a wider, thinner screen above them both, pointing up a finger after projecting a certain image on the screen. “See that? Only a few more coming past us.”
It’s the radar. Seven o’clock is a thick cluster of red dots, lightening up a bit as the tail trails over the center of the radar, only a handful of dots in its wake that have to pass over the set blip that represents the Mary. Grace doesn’t realize he’s nodding until he mutters some sort of acknowledgement.
Four, he counts. Four more hits strike the ship before all the red congestion on the radar has passed them by. Grace sucks in a deep breath, looking back over the screens and dials he barely can remember the uses of. Thank god Simon was here, he wouldn’t even know how to begin piloting this thing.
“What- What’s that mean?” Grace points at the still flashing red screen of which the alarms had long since been muted.
Simon sighs, slowing down his maneuvers over the span like he’s finishing up. “There’s some damage, but nothing I can’t fix.”
— — —
“You sure it’s safe so soon?” Grace asks as Simon slips on his EVA suit, watching the cluster of asteroids get further and further from the ship.
Simon nods, zipping up his cloth layer and grabbing the meat of his suit to step into next. “Yeah. Radar is clear and so is the horizon. I’ll be fine, Doctor,” Simon squints with a wink at Grace in a teasing manner, keeping his eyes on the man as he shimmies up his suit.
Grace works his jaw, running a hand over his stubble and letting his gaze drip away. He was used to Simon’s harmless flirting by now (especially since getting a rush of memories that it was usually a manner he’d frequented with Grace often on Earth) that it’s gotten a little easier for him to ignore at times he needed to. Like now. His stomach swirled with such unsettling anxiety and his lungs still hadn’t retreated from its python hold from the moment the first asteroid hit, and now Simon was about to go out into the weightless space to work on the hull for an undetermined amount of time. Grace hated this. He hated every bit of it.
“Ryland.” Though that simple word had still held its butterfly effect on his insides. Grace looks at Simon, brows crunched and lips thinned. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing and I’ll be back in no time, alright?” Simon pushes forward, placing a thickly gloved hand on Grace’s arm, warm eyes watching him closely.
“Yeah, yeah. Fine,” Grace nods, taking a deep breath and trying his best to pretend that he wasn’t shivering inside like a lost chihuahua.
After securing Simon fully, Grace mans the airlock controls and triple checks that the comms are working before letting Simon drift into the ink.
It’s a slow process, getting Simon to the damage across the ship, and even more tediously painful to watch through the camera in Simon’s helmet. Grace had floated back to the cockpit to keep an eye on the radar and project the live footage on the big screen in the dash. The damage was rough- a big dent that’d knocked off a hand rail and punctured dangerously close to an airway vent. But Simon didn’t seem even the slightest bit worried. He poked and prodded and patched at the wound, talking his way through it and keeping up his playful demeanor that really did quite help ease Grace’s anxieties.
“I don’t know, Doctor, I find it quite incredible to say I’ve walked among the stars,” Simon states like it’s the same as sky diving or bungeejumping. Some sort of adrenaline rush that you can brag about to your friends later. Except for them, there is no later.
Grace scoffs, shaking his head and keeping his eyes glued to the live feed. “I still have no clue why I would’ve chosen this,” he mutters.
“Like Yao said- finding someone to be brave for. Surely you had someone back on Earth that made all of this seem worth it at the moment. You’ll remember,” Simon says with a grunt as he works on solidifying something in place. Grace had an even harder time trying to be okay with the idea that he’d left someone behind for this.
“What about you? Y’have someone you’d been brave for?” Grace nibbles his lip, worried eyes glued to the screen, flicking up at the radar every few seconds.
“No one in particular, really,” Simon replies with what Grace assumes to be a shrug. “Saw a chance to go to space and save the world. Pretty easy choice for me. Didn’t need much leverage.” Grace frowns.
“Y’know that kind of thinking is usually something that would land you in a therapists office.”
“You make it sound like I’m suicidal,” Simon chuckles, latching in a few final touches.
“You make it sound like it’s purely heroic,” Grace combats.
“That's the thing about circumstance, Dr. Grace-.”
A red box flashes over the footage, startling Grace with a sharp inhale. He looks up at the radar to see another tiny cluster of asteroids. Nothing nearly as serious as before. They’d appeared smaller and a lot more spread out- some stragglers from the previous fog, surely- but Simon was still out there.
“Fudge,” Grace mutters, sitting up and clearing away the message. “You’ve got some more rocks headed your way. You finished?” His heart pads against his ribs, eyes whipping to the window to try and see the asteroids themselves.
“Yeah. All good here,” Simon’s footage dizzies as he quickly secures his bag of tools against his belt, working on inching his tether back around the ship and to the air lock. On the screen, Grace can see the asteroids spiking closer. Simon curses.
“Shit, hurry up,” Grace grits, knuckles white as he grips the arm rests to his sides.
“Dr. Grace, language,” Simon reprimands playfully, but his voice is tight and he sounds a little breathless.
Grace ignores his tease. “You’ve got about eight minutes until they start hitting,” he swallows, itching to do anything to help but unable to do more than just watch and wait.
“Christ. It took me fifteen to get across the hull to get here,” Simon huffs, picking up speed as he wonkily ‘jogs’ along the tether strip. He makes decent time getting across a chunk of the ship, but he starts to get a little sloppy.
“Don’t go too fast. Can’t mess up an anchor,” Grace picks as he sees Simon struggle to swiftly latch a carabiner on its next strip.
“Can’t wait around and get hit by space rocks either,” Simon snips back, making his way across the hull. Grace bites back a response and silence fills the signal. “Don’t give me the silent treatment, doc. How’m I looking?”
“Two minutes,” Grace wets his lips. “How far are you from the airlock?”
“Doing the best I can, Ry,” Simon’s professionalism melts back, taking over his nerves like a numbing balm.
Grace watches the radar blink with every wipe of the sonar. The timer inching down. The live feed unsteady as Simon traverses the exterior.
“How close, Simon?” Grace unbuckles from the seat, keeping his eyes on the feed for as long as he can.
“Gettin’ there.”
“Dammit, Si. How close?” Grace pulses his fist in quick clenches as an anxious fidget. Simon is quiet for a moment longer than Grace is comfortable with, but before he can repeat himself, Simon speaks up.
“Just a little more, I can see it now. Just gotta-.”
A loud clunk knocks against the ship, then another. And another. Simon’s voice comes through choppy and muddled with static- his camera feed distorted and useless.
“S-Simon?” Grace barks, pushing out of the seat and waiting only a fraction of a second for the monitor to try and catch up. It doesn’t, and Grace swims through the ship. Using all of his weight to hurl himself further up the halls and to the airlock. He continues to call out, trying to reach through the choppy signal spitting through the ship. Asteroids continue to pelt- though lighter and softer than the previous attack- and Grace feels like he’s completely losing his mind.
Finally at the airlock, Grace is struck with icy dread as he sees no sign of Simon. He calls for him- again and again and again- but is only greeted with horrible silence and thick knocks from the hail. He’s frozen where he stands, staring blankly at the empty tunnel for longer than he’d like to admit, but soon enough, he catches up with himself.
Grace darts his eyes around the room, landing on his own EVA suit with a patch of his last name emphasized by wings. He can’t- he hates this. He hates everything about this. He’ll never forgive his past self for deciding that hurling him into nothing space was a good idea. There were plenty smart brains- surely some with the same suicidal mindset as Simon- that Eva could’ve chosen from. That Grace could’ve let go in his place. But- oh for crying out loud, the first layer of his suit is already being zipped up by his own traitor hands-
A warbled groan emits from Mary’s speakers and Grace shoots his gaze outside. A peek of orange snakes around the open airlock, pulling forward a very slow Simon. He’s speaking over the comms, but something is still horribly damaged as all that comes through is gruff syllables and panted breaths chopped with static.
“Simon!” Grace presses against the glass, fingers gripping the hand holds to keep his weightless body in place. The glass of his helmet is painted with a smeared splotch of blood, making it hard to see through. At least Simon was still moving- and somewhat talking- because with the mess and amount of blood, Grace couldn’t access the damage just yet. “Almost, just pull in a little more and I’ll seal the hatch,” he encourages, moving over to the panel that operates the lock. Grace forces himself to ignore a rock hurling straight towards the cove. “C’mon, man,” Grace grits, hands hovering over the panel.
Once Simon makes it past the safe line, Grace works the panel, cycling the airlock closed and filling it back with a thick atmosphere.
The barrier between them lifts and Grace pushes through, hands landing on Simon’s shoulders and quickly working on removing his helmet.
The distant asteroid knocks against the closed airlock and Grace flinches.
Underneath, Simon’s eyes are dazed, his hair lazing around his face like a warm maine. Nose bloodied and teeth rosy from a cut on his lip. He smiles weakly at Grace, letting the zero-g carry him with nothing. Grace’s hands hold Simon’s face and he looks around at his temples.
“Did you hit your head? Did you get knocked out? You weren’t responding,” Grace directs Simon’s face so that they’re fixed right at each other. “You look dizzy. Can you hear me okay?”
Simon chuckles breathlessly, letting his eyes fall closed for a moment. “Can hear y’fine, Doctor,” he winces, letting Grace hold his face securely. It makes him miss gravity.
“Are you okay?” Grace pants, eyes stinging a bit with unshed worry and throat clogged with something thick.
“Me? I feel like a million bucks, Ry,” Simon cracks his eyes back open with a quirk to his lips, bloody teeth bore in a half smile.
Grace swallows, shaking his head. “Shut up. I’m getting you to Armando,” he instructs, unamused with Simon’s nonchalance with the situation.
“Whatever you say, Doc,” Simon’s lidded eyes watch Grace warmly, letting the taller man guide him through the ship and keep him secure. As if he were Sol and Simon were Mars.