Chapter Text
It was still difficult sometimes. Figuring out the real from the imagination. The fog of the concussions and alcohol poisoning and radiation exposure sometimes made him feel like he was drowning in that blood ocean all over again, blinding and burning. Migraines weren't new to him, he'd had his fair share of splitting headaches from just, lack of general humanity. Lack of proper food, dehydration from poor water rationing, overexertion from mandated "conversion labor". The universe was not kind, and the COI made it their mission to make Simon's existence in particular his own special hell. Having the Butcher of Eden under their thumb probably felt like snorting straight cocaine. Which, without the ability to produce those said drugs anymore, probably made torturing him the next greatest thing.
Sorry, "converting" him. Torture wasn't sanctioned by the COI's council. As long as you didn't call it torture.
What the fuck was he even just thinking about?
Right. Migraines. He had those. He still had them, though not like before. They're worse. It didn't just make his head feel like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. These ones are all consuming. His eyes felt like burnt coal and his bones ached and his teeth felt like they were actively being ripped from his gums. It hurts everywhere. Lights and loud noises made him both want to rage against whatever was causing them, and to shy away as quickly as possible to stop the pain. These migraines wore him out for days afterwards.
The COI's medical team had called it post concussion syndrome. Simon called it the biggest middle finger his universe could send him before he was ripped out of it. That and the mutations, but that was a whole other topic in and of itself.
He guessed the point of all this was to say nothing felt real. Simon's entire life since his mother's death had been nothing but pain. Either having it inflicted upon him, or being the one to inflict it, all of it hurt. Dead universes could not provide warmth, and Simon had been desperately clawing for it after the loss of the only other thing that could provide it. There was ice around his heart and a chill in his skin. Something he thought was permanent as they all watched the last of the dead starlight begin to fade.
Then Grace had appeared. Eden's angel. Simon had heard them practically chanting it as they helped shove him through the crowd all those weeks ago. Crazy, Eden and the COI finally working together. Too bad they were doing it to sacrifice Simon to their new savior. Grace hadn't even known what was happening, too focused on being passed an injured, fucked up looking little man while dealing with a language barrier.
It's funny, how someone could be so far removed from the meaning of their own name yet still somehow completely embody it. Grace was clumsy, and awkward, and so so full of patience for this frankly massive amount of tiny people that arrived on his doorstep. Theoretical doorstep. As close as you could get to one in the vastness of empty space.
Ugh, space. He didn't want to think about space. He had been thinking about Grace. Why as he thinking about Grace? Something about Eden's crazy religious psychosis around him and …
Migraines. Right. He'd had one, earlier.
He was, definitely still feeling the effects of it. There was barely a moment to think straight before his mind was dragging itself back into unconsciousness. Part of him just wanted to listen to the instinct. His eyelids were too heavy to open and his muscles were relaxed for once. Restful sleep was so rare for him, too plagued by images of crimson liquids in his eyes and canines as big as his own body slicing down. Most times he woke up shivering as his body abruptly shifted from the blistering heat of his dream to the steady chill of his jail cell. The COI had been too afraid to even leave him handcuffed to a proper hospital bed, instead returning him to his old "housing". Promises and freedom meant nothing to them if you came back with an alien mutation.
As if they would have kept it anyways.
Now, though? Burrowed in the comforts of clean clothes and warm bedding? The feeling of genuine safety he hadn't felt since … since his mother … ?
Simon took in a slow, deep breath to keep his tears at bay, releasing it in a loud sigh as he shuffled farther into his nest. Bed. Whatever one labeled his haphazard collection of fabric bits and not so stolen pillow fluff. The quilt square Grace had gifted him laid heavy but gentle over him, bunched at his shoulders and half obscuring his face. Soft strands of hair tickled at his neck, no longer clumped together by grease and grime. He was comfortable. Not too hot, not too cold. Just, warm.
Dark brown eyes squinted open at the sound of squeaky wheels and the rumble of the table under him. Crystal blue eyes the size of his head stared unblinking back from around the corner of the shelf he currently laid under. Simon's breath hitched as his shoulders tensed. It was an odd feeling when the newly acquired fin on his back stood in alarm.
He immediately felt guilt clamp down on his throat when the eyes backed up and a face came into view. A being nearly eighteen times the size of him and Grace still managed to look like a kicked puppy. "Right, sorry," he half whispered out, raising his gloved hands in surrender before thinking better of it and rubbing at the back of his neck, "That's, ah, gotta be terrifying to wake up to. My bad." Dirty blond hair ruffled in the low lamp light as he slid his hand up and over his head. The edges of his glove snagged the bridge of his glasses, already precariously hooked on his nose, and sent them dangling from his ear. The smaller man couldn't help the small, breathy huff of laughter as Grace dropped his shoulder in defeat. "Yeah yeah, laugh it up," he groaned, the corners of his lips tugging up in his own quiet laugh.
Another thing that often caught him off guard. For his sheer size compared to Simon, Grace still seemed so attentive to Simon's actions and emotions. He could not have heard that breath of air, but he knew Simon was laughing. Hell, the man couldn't even see half the time and still seemed to just, know. It had been a very long time since he's seen that level of care, never mind having it solely focused on him. He didn't really even know where to begin with receiving it.
A part of him bared its teeth and snapped at it like it was a threat. Kindness like this was never free, there was always a cost. Pure manipulation to hold over someone else's head. Simon was very aware of his position here on the Hail Mary. Grace may not have known about accepting him as a sacrifice, but that didn't mean he was free. His actions toward Simon were clear enough. Somewhere in the second month of his care, when he could finally stay awake long enough to eat real food and keep it down, Grace had cut all contact Simon had with the colonies. The COI doctors stopped showing up as Grace completely took over his recovery. He didn't even allow for Simon to be present during his visits to the cockpit corridor, which the colonies had taken over as theirs when not in their stations. The isolation, the extra attention, he was nothing more than a glorified pet at this point. Simply kept around to listen and obey. Of course Grace wouldn't see him as a person at his size. He wasn't even human anymore.
Another part of him, the one not fighting for it's survival, just wanted to cry. That part had seemed to be winning out a lot more recently. Being a pet had to be better than being a lab rat. At least he was alive.
Most of the time, though, they just kind of canceled out and he'd go numb. Ingrained behavior after decades of pushing down his emotions for the betterment of his survival. It was far easier to shut down and pretend they didn't exist. Orders were more easily followed that way.
"Hey."
Simon blinked, mind snapping back into his body. He took another quick glance up, finding Grace's face had twisted farther in concern. His glasses were back in place, securely sat on the bridge of his nose for once. Fuck. Did he miss something? Why was Grace upset with him? He could feel the fins around his ears drop as he sighed, running his hand down his face before rubbing at the bridge of his nose. If only he could get his voice to fucking work and apologize.
Instead, Grace keeps apologizing for him, for things he doesn't even need to be apologizing about. "No, wait! You don't have to get up!" He once again seems to not know what to do with his hands, waving them around before grimacing down at them and shoving them under his armpits. It's been four months since Simon was placed under his care and Grace still seems to fumble with how to handle personal interactions with him. "I'm sorry, I was, I just, I'm just checking on you 'cause I thought I heard you moving around. Is your head okay? Do you need more meds?" There's the soft squeak of Grace's gloves as he drummed is fingers in some quick sort of beat, craning his neck to stare down at his watch, "Yeah, uh, wow. It's been six hours. We can definitely get you some more if you need."
Simon propped himself on his elbow, scooting his weight more properly to sit up. A shiver raced through him as the cool air of the Hail Mary hit the webbing between his spines, making him already miss the comfortable warmth in his cocoon of blankets. He shook his head with a small hum, waving his hand in a similar fashion once it was freed of use. The muscles of his shoulders and back still felt somewhat stiff and achy, but not painful. Nothing a good stretch couldn't fix. Which he rolled right into doing as Grace went back to rambling. The metal of the table was cold when he stood, but helped him wake up a little more.
"Good! Good good." Simon would have snorted at the blond's instinct to give a thumbs down if he wasn't preoccupied. His hand wavered for a moment before ending on a thumbs up, then simply dropping, "Yeah. You definitely look better. I'm glad. Not really shocked you slept for six hours, concussions are the worst to deal with. Okay, well, mmm, maybe not, but they're terrible. I know when I was dealing with mine Rocky had to force me to stay awake for once. Which, ah, was hard to even get him to, to … understand …"
Simon's gotten himself into a basic hamstring stretch when Grace peters off. More than likely finding something a little more of interest to occupy himself. Simon never really minded it, no matter how much Grace apologized about it when he caught himself in the act. He typically would go right into talking about whatever new thing caught his interest anyways. Which is why it was slightly unsettling when Grace's train of thought seemed to just, freeze.
Simon let his eyes slip towards his right to see what had caught the other man's interest, only to freeze when he realized it was trained on him. Well wasn't that just slightly concerning. And fucking terrifying. It felt like prey being caught in a predator's gaze. Did he, did he do something wrong? What was happening? Simon couldn't help the shift of his fins upwards, like hackles raising. Slowly, he brought himself out of the pose to hunch more in on himself.
He could see the minute movements of the larger man's eyes as they darted between his back and his face. "Oh shoot, I'm staring again," he mumbles, almost like he's talking to himself, before clearing his throat, "Sorry. Again. Jeez I'm really not doing to good on my social skill today aren't I?" He leaned back on the stool he's perched upon, grabbing the rim to not completely send himself over. In all honesty, the smaller man was surprised the wheels didn't give out. Just fast enough to give Simon whiplash, Grace sat up and lasered his focused back to him. "I know I've … probably said this a concerning amount of times, but your fins are extremely interesting. They're like funky little bat wings, with the finger joints. There's even an obvious thumb segment, just facing the opposite way." For some reason he feels the need to emphasize this by twirling around his thumbs for a moment.
Simon feels like he should probably be a little more concerned about the fact that Grace examining him like a specimen doesn't hurt him. There is a baseline pang of … something, but he can't say it’s an unfamiliar feeling. The COI had made him intimately aware of it long before he was even send down in the sub, that feeling of being somewhat lesser simply for existing differently. Nothing more than a killer, a convict, a butcher. Hell, they hadn't even gotten around to knowing his name before they decided to send him as human bait for the universe's cosmic horrors.
Someway, somehow, Grace had changed it. Molded it. Maybe it was the genuine interest in his voice. Maybe his way of explaining things, in a way that made the inhuman sound mystical instead of inherently evil. Maybe it was just him knowing when he was pushing too hard, and apologizing when he overstepped. Like he was human, and not some lab rat to be torn into and dissected. The man didn't critique or degrade, he simply studied and was fascinated by his discovering. As if Simon was something worth being discovered.
… This didn't mean he was just going to let Grace grab and poke at him. Fuck that, actually. He was done being other people's experiment, even if he'd only really climbed the ladder up to being a pet. Instinct made him want to flare his fins at a perceived threat, but that would probably send the exact opposite message to his onlooker. Instead, he flattened them as best he could and flashed his teeth in a frown. A sign of discontent instead of anger, or at least he hoped. He wanted to stop talking about this right now.
The giant seems to get the memo though, clearing his throat a third time and dropping his head, "Yep, stopping now. Too much. Sorry"
It's a blessing to have his wants respected for once. He just wished Grace would stop apologizing for it. He won't, Simon knows, especially when Simon can't seem to get his words in order. Four months of playing charades was getting exhausting. He wasn't sure he'd ever gone through a quiet spell this long before. To be honest, Grace probably thought he just couldn't speak due to the mutations. The blond had tried giving him other means of communication, but they either were even more inconvenient or grated at Simon's nerves. The farthest along they'd gotten were some basics in American Sign Language.
Even then, it was a feat. Simon didn't speak English, or at least the same English Grace spoke. Some words were similar, others completely different. Sentence structures shifted just enough to feel like deja vu. It was like speaking with an alien who'd tried to teach itself English and couldn't quite figure it out. Simon was getting better at understanding Grace's English, given their four months of close contact, he just couldn't speak it. Why the hell couldn't he just speak? It shouldn't have been that fucking hard!
"I know you don't like apologies," Grace suddenly starts again, jolting him out of his thoughts, "Or at least not ones from me." He's once again reminded just how much the other man pays attention when he wants to. "Saying nothing feels wrong, though. You deserve the respect." Grace looks down at his hands, eyes staring at nothing in particular as he collects his thoughts. Simon simply leans back on his arm and lets him. He'd probably just distract him again if he continued his stretches anyways.
Bracing the heels of his feet onto the bar at the bottom of his stool, Grace hunched over with his elbows on his knees and his hands left dangling but clasped together. He'd assumed this pose often enough that Simon knows he's about to get at least a little serious about something. His "teacher talk". Grace had a habit of trying to level himself with whoever he was conversing with, which often meant making himself smaller. Since Simon spent a lot of his time up on tables or shelves, the farthest Grace ever got was dropping to sit on the ground, but he'd seen him go belly to the floor when talking to the people of Eden or the COI.
He opens his mouth to speak, only to close it again and repeat a moment later. Frustration seeps onto his face through pursed lips and narrowed eyes. The gloves still on his hands squeal as they rub together in his clenched grip. Simon can see the moment something clicks into place for Grace as looks toward the noise then back up to him.
Their eyes meet again and all Simon can think for a moment is how they look like starlight.
Instead of speaking, Grace moves. The blue layer of his gloves peel back to show the skin beneath as he tosses them somewhere in the lab. Simon knows Rocky'd find them on the floor later and throw a fit.
Grace had other priorities, as he turned back to reach out a hand. Slow, but steady. The skin is lined in burns that make it look much too smooth in blotchy patches. Simon has heard the story behind them, both from Grace himself and Rocky. He can't even begin to unwrap the feeling that bleeds through his system every time Grace extends that hand to him. The meaning behind those scars that Grace has allowed him to gently trace over with his own hands.
The first time he had been cradled there, Simon had thought for sure the hand was going to crush him. Eden believed their Butcher to have been infected by demon blood, and could no longer return him to the Grove. The COI simply believed Grace could provide a better dissection on their current pet project. Either way, both colonies wanted nothing to do with him anymore. Better to give their new savior a sacrifice than to have him focus that attention on them.
Now, he couldn't fathom those hands to cause any sort of harm. They had only ever nurtured and cared, saved countless lives both actively and passively. It seemed no matter how much Simon actually deserved it, those hands would continue to save him.
"Come on," Grace said, laying his fingers flat against the desktop. Not grabbing, not forcing, just an offer. "I wanna show you something."
Deep brown eyes follow the tips of the finger before them up into a awaiting palm, then past the straps of a wrist watch. They continue up the forearm and the lines of scarring that go under the shirt and up to the neck. Simon own hand absentmindedly settles on the scarred side of his own neck, palm resting across his collarbone. Gaze meets gaze as they both stare for a moment. Grace doesn't move an inch. The offer remains, still just an offer.
Air pushes through his nose as his shoulders lax. The smaller man waved his hand, making sure Grace was paying attention before raising his shoulder and tapping at the spot his hand had been resting. He lifts a brow in question along with the movement. Grace's own brows disappear under his hairline for a brief moment before he smiled, "Yeah, shoulder's fine! Do, do you want help or are you good to climb?" Simon can hear the tap tap of Grace's toes against the floor and quirks a small smile, but shakes his head no with a thumbs up. He felt a lot better after that nap and, if he was ever going to get better at being mobile with only one arm, he needed to practice.
For a second he thought his movements confused the blond man, who started moving his free hand upward. His concern was unfounded when Grace simply placed it splayed out below his extended arm. "Not that I don't trust you," he explains, "but better safe than sorry! Really don't think you want another concussion."
He laughed at the pained grimace that pulled across Simon's face. No, he really didn't.
The first thing Simon notes, that he always notes when touching Grace, is how warm he is. It's not hot or overbearing, but it was definitely similar to just moments ago when he'd been bundled up under his blankets. The leathery skin is thick but malleable under his partially wrapped feet. The muscles are firm enough not to send him toppling as he walks out of the palm and over the wristwatch. Simon watches the hand beneath him track under him as he swiftly makes it across the forearm. Luckily, this particular of Grace's shirts had a longer sleeve, allowing for him to reach up and snag the edge without standing on his toes.
This is where things get tricky. With both his arms, Simon knew he would have had easily had the upper body strength to pull himself up and climb. Climbing with just one hand? Unbelievably difficult.
Not impossible. Simon made sure he had a good hold on the thick fabric, wrapping his hand several times around in it, before he pulled. His feet braced against Grace's bicep as he heaved himself up, the muscles in his own arm straining to keep him in the air. A breathy growl slipped past his lips as he shuffled his weight slightly. Right. He had a tail he needed to accommodate for now. He can feel as it lashes at his own annoyance at it, and he quickly had to force the feeling down to stop from swinging himself right off Grace's arm.
Hm. Hold on. While it was true the tail added a good few more grams to his weight, it also acted as a great way to fling said weight around more easily. Maybe he could use that to his advantage? He'd have to account for a counterbalance when it dropped back down, but if he timed pulling himself up with a good swing …
With a sharp flick toward his left to not smack Grace right in the face, Simon pulled up. By twisting the shirt, his handhold was able to shift with his grip and turn into a hold he could push up on. His arm was beginning to strain, and nearly buckled when his tail completed it swing. Gah, if only he had more practice with it. A better solution would have been to keep it pulled to the side, but he was simply still too unfamiliar with the muscles needed to pull that off. But he made it! He just, needed to celebrate his small victories when he wasn't slipping.
Not having another free hand meant resorting to other methods. Like his mouth. Shifting himself up as high as he can, Simon gripped at the fabric with his teeth and clenched his jaw tight. Sorry to Grace's shirt, he'd just have to patch up the holes later. Right now, he needed his hand. Quickly as he can, he freed it from its makeshift hold and strained as he reached up to grab another fistful. Air wheezed through his lungs in a groan as he pulled himself up yet again on his feet. He almost had it, he can see over the other side of the shoulder, he just needed to keep that upward momentum. His feet nearly slip as he goes to throw his tail a second time. If he can throw its whole weight into it, he could straddle the side. … As long as he didn't overshoot and send himself flying where Grace can't quickly reach. Giving himself a countdown, he threw his hip to the side and swung.
Just like that, Simon's up. With an airy laugh, he pushed himself into a sitting position. He did it. Holy shit did his arm hurt, but he did it! He smiles as he rolled his shoulders slightly, taking in a breath to help steady his breathing.
Something shifts in his peripheral and Simon eyes dart up.
Brown meet blue yet again as Grace stares. Wide eyed, slightly slack jawed, blinking as if he couldn't really process what he was seeing. "Ahhh," is all he can manage to breath out, and even that was shaky and winded. Simon can feel the rumble of his voice, the muscle under him tensing and flexing as Grace turned his head slightly and clenched his teeth with a gulp. "Wow, haha. You are, crazy strong. Is that, is that new? A new thing? The strength, I mean, not the muscle. But I guess if the muscle were new then yes I am talking about them?" He's floundering. Simon actively watched as red burned across the giant's cheeks, spreading back to the tips of his ear. The shoulder of underneath him hitched up slightly as Grace seemed to curl in on himself, sending him scrambling to get a proper grip before he's thrown into the other's neck. "Actually, you don't have to answer any of that. That's, ah, that was impressive. I'm gonna shut up now."
… There was a lot to unpack about this. Which he was promptly not going to do.
Instead, he quickly shuffled into a more comfortable and much safer position on the shoulder. Careful not to send himself tumbling down Grace's back, Simon curled his tail to his side and used it to help push him onto the other's neck. The heels of his feet slot easily into the dip of the collarbone as he leaned forward slightly. It was difficult to keep himself stable with a missing arm, and if he was going to go flying he'd rather it be forward where Grace has a chance of catching him.
The giant seems to have a similar idea as he brought his cupped hand up towards Simon's resting spot, "All set?" His voice is just as much a feeling as it was a sound, like the humming of the station engines when one got a little too close. The nod he gives goes unseen from his position, but he's quick to pair it with a double pat into the wall of muscle next to him.
It's undoubtedly an odd feeling, having that muscle tense and shift under his touch. To react at what surely felt like nothing more than a bug crawling against his skin. A steady pulse moved through him from where his side rested against one of Grace's veins, just as powerful as the rest of him. It was like sitting atop of living mountain.
A moving mountain. The hand below him stayed as Grace stood, careful not to lean too far forward, before hesitantly dropping to his side as he began their trek.
Their trek of exactly across the room, apparently. Simon can feel his body sway with Grace's steps, softly bumping against his neck every time he switches to his left foot. They barely made it to the other side of the lab before the larger man was talking again. For once without also speaking with his hands, mindful of his passenger. "So, just wanna preface, I wasn't hiding this. I would have showed this to you earlier, I just, I don't know. Keeping you alive was a little more of a priority, haha. Wouldn't mean much if you … keeled over." Simon could feel as the muscles in other man's neck twitched under his hand, wincing at his own words. He never liked talking about Simon's near death experiences, even as a joke. Simon never understood why, it was the truth. He wouldn't have really been able to appreciate much of anything if he was fucking dead.
There wasn't much time to ponder over it again. By the time Grace stopped speaking, they were already stopped in a back corner of the central hub. The one occupied by a shelving unit, covered by a thin plastic tarp. It was translucent, but just barely. Most one could see was the blob of shadows and the outlines of water droplets sliding down from the condensation. There was some sort of timed light system for each shelf, but it wasn't very helpful to seeing what laid inside. It wasn't something he really thought about, often much more caught up in the sight out the neighboring window in the other room. He liked watching the stars as they flew by. His eyes still slid over to the wide sparkling expanse outside before the crinkle of the tarp drew his gaze elsewhere.
Nothing could have prepared him for what was behind the curtain.
"From what I could gather, Eden seems to hold a lot of respect for nature," Grace explained, "I thought maybe you'd, ah, want to see this."
For a moment, Simon was frozen. Everything around him blurred and warped into nothing except the sight in front of him, a hazy tunnel vision. Dozens of thin green stalks, branching out into leaves that fluttered in the current of the ship's air conditioning. An array of different shapes and sizes, but all obviously still young. Plants. Real, living plants.
He didn't even realize his body was scrambling forward until he dropped, a sound croaking from his throat that he couldn't quite discern. It took a moment to realize he was now splayed out in Grace's hands, still replaying the sight he'd just seen as if seared into his mind's eye. "Hey, whoa, easy! Careful!" He could hear Grace softly chide over him, the hands under him shaking ever so slightly, but he was barely processing the words. He was up on his feet again before the other man could finish fretting, near leaning over the cupped fingers to make sure what he was seeing was in fact real.
"Down," he blurts, before something clicks faintly in his mind like a far off reminder and he repeats the words in English, "Put me down. Please." The words are hoarse and gritty from a voice long unused, but soft and broken as a prayer.
For a second, Grace does nothing. The air stilled, not even a breath heard. Simon can feel the muscle under him tense, the hands hold him stopping in their shaking. Fear grips him for a moment. That Grace won't listen. He was nothing but a pet after all, there would be no need to comply with his pleas. Grace would be only just kind enough to show him such a thing existed, only to pull it from his reach before he can confirm his eyes aren't deceiving him. Just like everyone else in his life. He turned sharply, brown eyes shining with unshed tears.
They met blue. Wide, shimmering blue, unblinking down at him in unbidden shock. His eyebrows practically disappeared behind the line of his blond bangs. He must see something, because he suddenly blinked back to life. Simon watches his eyelids flutter as his brain seemed to catch up with him. "Y-yeah," he breathed, almost half a wheeze, "Yeah just … please don't jump again." A shaky laugh breaks his sentence before it can become a ramble, "My heart can't take that." The smaller man mimicked him as he sucked in a breath, fear draining from the knot it had formed in his chest. Of course Grace would never be so cruel as to take him from this now. Just like that, Simon's makeshift platform was lowered onto the nearest shelf with only minor quaking. It continued to sit still as he collected himself, turning back to face the greenery in front of him. No bump or poke to push him off, just a bridge he could take his time to cross.
It wouldn't have taken much coaxing regardless. He's scrambling to his feet the moment he felt they wouldn't fall out underneath him. The first thought he had was to dip his hand into the dirt and inspect the roots. Pure instinct, from years of doing so for the Last Tree. It had been a long time since he'd done so, longer still since there had actually been something living in the dry dust that housed the aged bark and wood.
Damp earth greeted him. Soil. Real, true dirt slid around his fingers and under his nails. No bones sticking up like broken roots. No decayed, rotting flesh laid out across the dust like a human blanket. Just, honest to god, dirt. He didn't even realize he was crying until his tears hit the soil and suddenly he couldn't breathe. A sharp intake of air was all the warning his body gave before it heaved out a sob, his knees buckling and forcing him to unsteadily cling to the sharp plastic edge of the tray.
Warmth wrapped its way around him before he could hit the grated floor. Fingers. A hand. A kind voice rumbled over him as a gentle hold kept him steady. "Hey, I got you. It's okay, just breathe." Something presses up against his back, more of a presence than a push, "I go up, you breathe in. I go down, you breathe out. Can you follow that?" Simon does, or tries. He wants to. The rhythm is a steady four count beat that should be easy to follow. Instead he felt like he was spiraling. His lungs fill both too full and too empty. It takes him a moment to realize he's teetering on the edge of a panic attack, brain fuzzy but not yet drowning in the sensation. Grace's steady attention is a balm on his frayed nerves, but the crumbling wet in his hand is a tether. The green in his sight began to clear back into discernible leaves, which almost threaten to send him spinning again.
Leaves. Leaves and stems and soil and roots. All parts to a fully thriving plant, not just encased in resin or standing proud in its own grave. Simon's hand reached up to the leaf in front of him, the black of the soil smearing with the artificial dew already resting there. It was incredibly intriguing to see the hairs of the sprout so up close, to feel them individually under his fingers. "What is this?" he pondered, aloud. It sounded like he was coughing up sandpaper, but it was still his own voice. That rock that had been nestled solidly in his throat seemed to finally be gone, good fucking riddance.
"… What's that?"
Simon blinked, head whipping back 'round to the person behind him. Ugh, right. Company. He probably looked like a mess right now, bloodshot eyes and tear streaks down his face. It wasn't like Grace hadn't seen him in worse states, but the least Simon could do was be polite about it. There wasn't much else he could do to make up for it.
The thing about having only one hand after having two your whole life as that you sometimes forgot you only had one, and did dumb shit like wipe dirt across your face. Well, fuck. This was going so well.
It felt really good to feel real soil against his skin again.
The fingers still curled around him jumped slightly as Grace attempted to stifle a laugh. The wheeze that came out wasn't much better. Simon cracked his own smile, giving the other man a light swat for his antics. "Sorry, sorry, hold on," the blond conceded, leaning down until he's half hunched over. His glasses are practically mirrors as they stops just inches away. Ever so gently, he brought the pad of his pinkie up to rub at the stain. It was almost a ghost of a touch, as if scared doing any more would break something. The ridges swipe softly over the scar on the bridge of his nose, and Simon can almost imagine the dirt washing off the boiling blood that had caused it. As if Grace is blessing the wound.
Tears swelled in the corner of his eyes again, a sharp sting he hated. No one had given him a Blessing of the Soil in decades. Grace probably didn't even know what it was. What this action meant. In an attempt to counter correct, he gave another playful swat, pushing at the finger in his face, "Not a child."
The words seemed to bounce off wrong as Grace immediately backed off with a cough. Even the hand holding him released its grip the moment he was sure Simon could stand. "Right, yeah. Sorry. Personal space."
"You have got to stop apologizing, man," Simon was immediate to say. Finally. Goddamn. He was so tired of it. Of being someone Grace felt the need to apologize to. Maybe he could finally drill it into the scientist's brain if he actually spoke it in English. "You did nothing wrong."
Grace visibly shrunk in on himself, "I don't know about that one. I've done plenty wrong by you."
… What? "What?" Simon repeated aloud, brows creased as his head tilted slightly. What the hell had Grace ever done wrong? When? This man, this man had given him everything, how could he feel it was wrong?
… Maybe this was it. The final shoe dropping. Maybe Grace had done something wrong, or was going to. Because nothing ever went right for Simon. All this? The consideration of his opinions, the gentle care the other man gave him to nurse him back to health, the plants he was currently allowing Simon to touch? Maybe it was just to put him at ease before Grace finally took a knife to him. Specimens really should be dissected at optimal health to give honest results.
Fuck. Maybe he never was a pet at all. Just like he had never been a person. Still just a lab rat, a prisoner, a convict. Never free.
Grace sighed. It's heavy, bone weary deep, his shoulders physically dropping as he pushed his glasses up and drew a hand down his face. "I …" He's doing the mouth thing again, like he can't figure out exactly what to say. His hands are a blur before he finally dropped them. "Look, I don't know how to say this in any way that doesn’t sound bad, because it is bad. So I'm just gonna say it. Especially because you probably already know." He gave a humorless laugh. It was more just an expulsion of air. "The colonies, the colonies wanted you dead. When they handed you over to me, they wanted me to kill you."
The dirt in his hand felt gritty as his fingers curled together in a fist. Oh. Eden had probably told Grace their practices around death. This wasn't a blessing. It was a burial.
He's crying again. He's crying again and he can't stop it. The tears were running steady tracks down his face, carving trails through the last of the dirt Grace hadn't quite managed to wipe off. He's so tired of crying. He is so tired in general. Did he even have any more energy to keep fighting this?
"…Please," he choked on a sob, "Please don't."
Ah. Not a lot. Not with dignity, at least. But he does. He still wanted to live. He had nothing left to live for and nothing of worth to give, but damn it all if he he hadn't made it this far just to give up and give in. "You can't do this."
Grace had the honest gall to look physically wounded by the pleas. "No! No, oh god Simon, no, that's-" He goes to reach a hand out only to flinch. A full body reaction. "I'm not, I would never, ever-" Every sentence he tried to say never got finished. One arm wrapped around his chest in a tight hug as the other hand flew up to his mouth. The skin of his face looked near ghostly pale. It's like watching a puppet cut from its string as he dropped out of Simon's sight onto the actual floor. The shelf under his feet rattled in the aftershock, threatening to make him do the same. His legs are barely holding him up anyways. Breath unsteady, he squatted down and sat with his back against the planting tray.
Grace's voice broke from down below. "I wouldn't never, never, hurt you. I don't want to hurt you. When they, I-I, you were just … sssshit."
The curse seemed to startle the both of them. Simon can see the shape of the giant silhouette hunched on the floor through the grating of the shelf. Back against the wall, blond hair is stuck up in odd angles from where his hand has run through it several times over. Something shone as it rolled down his cheek and it took his brain a moment to catch up with the fact that Grace was crying. He hiccuped as he tried to fight it, sniffling.
"I didn't, didn't know. I couldn't understand what they were saying and they were all saying it, I thought they were just happy. Thought they finally found someone to help them with some, weird space disease or something, I didn't know what was happening. I kept trying to tell them I wasn't that kind of doctor, I'm just a scientist teacher, but people don't listen to me even when they know my language. All I knew was that you looked really sick and they wanted me to take you, and I thought it was so I could help you."
He looked down at his hands, shaking. A full blown sob wracked his frame, "No, they'd just wanted me to murder you. Who does that?"
The thought came before he can even process what he was thinking. The colonies would. The COI. Eden, definitely. At least the COI had been trying to figure out a way to survive without the stars. Eden had taken one look and were already making plans for a glorious afterlife, like they were given some divine insight that nothing was left in the universe and death was the only real way out. Everyone would returned to the soil one day.
Like there had even been any real soil left. The dirt had been nothing but dust since his arrest at Filament. No amount of bodies had ever changed that, he had seen that first hand. A dead tree stayed dead, no matter how much blood you fed it. There might have been teaching in Eden of water turning to wine and wine into water, but it never seemed to carry over to blood. It simply smothered. Covered the roots in its sticky congealed aftermath and choked the very thing they were trying to save. Poetic, in away.
Except he wasn't there anymore. The soil in his hand was real. The leaves over his head weren't brittle and rotting. It was rich browns and colorful greens, healthy soil and growing vines. It was as if the Rapture had never happened, and he was back under the cover of the Last Tree as it once had been in his youth. Before it had been the Last. Before the tears and the sweat and the blood that had choked it and changed it. Blood they had put there, and then forced him to put there. Praised him by putting there. Eden had been just as much a cage as his cell in the COI had been, in the end. Even they did not care to help their precious Butcher that they had so carefully molded. Maybe they had just been making their scapegoat. Just another life to slaughter when the time came.
Yet he was still alive. Somehow, some way, after all this time. He was still alive. Eden had failed, the COI had failed, and it was becoming very apparent that it had never even been an option for the Hail Mary to begin with. The moment Grace had set eyes on him, he had been freed of that constant looming threat. Living through what should have been certain death by the favoritism of some ignorant god. Just long enough to receive the promise of continued life by someone Eden deemed their guardian angel.
There was irony somewhere in this, Simon knew.
There was another sniffle below him and a shuffling noise. Blinking back to the current, Simon glanced down once again to watch as the giant huddled in on himself. Had he really been so off-put by the thought of Simon's death that it sent him into a crying fit? It felt so wildly out of place. Everyone had wanted him dead. Except, it seemed, Grace. There were so many things when it came to the man that made it feel like the floor being ripped out from under him. New ground with no boundaries having been set. Unfamiliar.
The canopy over his head felt calming. Safe. An old but achingly comfortable familiarity. But safety was always temporary. He could either do this now, or have the comfort ripped from him later. Having the choice in the first place was a blessing, honestly. He didn't think he could handle being forced away from the signs of life growing around him.
Slowly, he crawled over to the lip of the shelf and looks down. He can see the moment Grace spotted him, because the other man immediately turned to away. Another tear slipped down his face. Like just looking at Simon hurt.
" … Why did you not?" There's so much more to that question and they both know it. He can finally talk again, yet he still didn't have the words.
He could see as Grace's lashes fluttered and the corner of his brow moved, even though most of his face was obscured. Slowly, he turned back to face him, revealing his confusion as he looked up at Simon. "Wh-what?"
He let his on brows furrow. "Why keep me alive? If everyone wanted me dead. It would have been easier." It would have. It would have made everyone pleased, at least. It had been what everyone had wanted of him, for so long.
Grace still didn't seem to get the memo. "…What?"
The repetition was starting to irk him. How as he not being understood? If Grace had gone through with what he'd been asked, the colonies would have celebrated. Took it as a sign of good faith between them and their new humble host. "What. It's true."
"It is not." Simon couldn't help but flinch, both at the volume and the intensity behind the words. The giant seemed to catch it, as he flinched himself. The next time spoke his voice was more of a whisper. "It's really, really not."
As he spoke, Grace reached up to move his glasses and wipe his face. "Sorry. You just, caught me off guard. People don't normally ask why you don't kill them."
Simon had seen that exchange enough in his lifetime to give an immediate answer, though mostly to himself, "Most people only want the praise, it's a bargaining chip." They only saved a life to hold that over the other's head. Life is precious, and I saved yours, so now you must do as I say.
Then they weld you into a submarine and force you into an alien infested blood ocean, and let it swallow you alive after you begged and pleaded for them to stop.
But like in all situations, Grace was different. "But not to you."
"I know what it's like." Simon startled at the nearly undesirable answer, not having expected a reply. Grace made a face like he hadn't meant to say it himself, eyes darting between the floor and back up to the man above him. His gaze finally settled, and Simon could see the minute movements of his eyes as they looked over his face. Grace seemed to find something there, as he watched something in the blue crack. "I've been there before. When you realize someone's only kept you around to be the sacrifice." The blond gave a humorless laugh. "One life for the many."
Just as quickly as he'd stopped, Grace was crying again. He seemed to give up on keeping his glasses on his face, instead tucking them onto the collar of his shirt. They disappeared behind his knees as he gripped them to his chest. "They ah, I, I wasn't supposed to be on the Hail Mary to begin with. The project, yeah, but the ship? I didn't, I didn't want to go. I wasn't ready to, to die." His voice cracked on the last word. "But we needed a replacement. We lost both the scientists who were supposed to go, and our success rates were already abysmal. Waiting to train someone else would had dropped them even farther. A risk Eva didn't want to take."
Simon sucked in a breath at the name. So similar to his own superior's. He couldn't help but imagine Grace in the same position as he had, staring at Ava's face through the bloodied porthole of the sub. Something clenched in his gut at that. Grace didn't belong there.
"She'd apparently had been training me for it and I didn't, I hadn't even realized. I wasn't even supposed to be an option. I had trusted her to not make me an option, because I had a life I still needed to live, but she did anyways. I was somehow someone important enough to die. Because somehow being important and being expendable are synonymous. She told me, she told me I couldn't possibly have anything to live for, because I didn't have a family to go back home to. Like I didn't have my kids still waiting on me. They weren't my actual kids anyways so obviously they were just an excuse." He nearly spat the words out, vile and damningly personal. "Like I hadn't already been giving up all my time with them to make sure they got to stay alive. That they got a chance."
Suddenly, Simon was glaringly reminded of every time he's seen Grace interact with the children of the colonies. He couldn't remember much, still having been too sick to even tell what was really reality at the moment, but he'd still been intrigued by it even through the fuzz. He'd been so kind. He was always kind, that was simply how Grace operated, but there was a shift in his entire demeanor when it came to the kids. A light in his eyes no one realized wasn't there until it was flipped on. He was a titan compared to them, yet he rolled over like a dog baring its most vital parts. Made himself so incredibly small for them. Answered their many, many questions and listen to their stories and never once talked down like they were something lesser. Hell, Simon could even remember once being escorted back out of the COI's medical ward to see the behemoth had pretty much been reduced to a glorified jungle gym. He'd been content with it.
"The cruel part is that she still made it seem like an option. She gave me three hours to choose if I was going and I told her no. I had to get back to class."
Three hours. Three hours to choose between life or death.
"She’d just been trying to make me feel like I had the choice. I, I tried to run, when she called the doctors in. They drugged me, put me in an isolated cell for three days, then forced me into the coma before launch. She had Armando administer a retrograde amnesia inducing drug before I work up. I woke up in space alone with no idea of who I was or why I was there."
"Maybe if you'd talked to me this wouldn't have happened!" Simon'd had his own moment of blind panic, being forced on a mission he knew nothing about. Clawing for information anywhere he could find in that empty sub. His stomach churned, again unable to do anything but see Grace in that same position. It made him sick.
Simon was going to be sick.
Grace's face contorted suddenly, like he bit into something beyond sour. Caught himself saying something he didn't mean to say. He wiped his face again in harsh swipes with the palms of his hands. "Sorry. I'm sorry. That was rude. I didn't mean all this as a pity party or anything! You've been through something completely different, I'm not trying to compare. I just, I wanted you to know. I know what it's like to just, to want to live when nobody else seems to want that for you."
"I just want to live. Is that so wrong? Why doesn't anyone else want that?"
"You're just like me," Simon choked. "You’re just like me." There's a sudden bubbling in his chest and pull in his heart and he very much does not want to be alone up here anymore. It almost felt like instinct as his hand reached over the lip of the shelf. Grace reacted near instantly, as if hearing the call and answering it in turn. The ridges of his fingerprints brushed against his palm, and there was a moment where they both took in the sight. His hand barely covered the pad of the finger it held.
Heat radiated from the cupped fingers as Simon practically rolled into the awaiting hand. Not uncomfortable or blistering. Just, warm. It curled around him not in a cage or a vice grip, but a steady presence. Grace carefully brought him down from the shelf, offering his other hand as a wall to keep Simon from tumbling as he brought him closer to his face.
There's eyes met as they studied each other. Brown and blue.
"I don't know the full story. I don't have to know if you don't want me to. But I do know you shouldn't have been treated the way you were. It's not my place to apologize for them, and I know you hate apologies. So I'm gonna say it one more time." He shook his head. "No, wait, I can't promise that. Because I will never stop being sorry for this. I am sorry, for taking you under those assumptions. I never would have taken you under my care like that if I had known why they were passing you off to me. I would have just, I would have taken you in regardless. You're not a project or, or a pet, you're a person." He pause from a moment, running his thumb down Simon's back just to the side of his back fin. "They couldn't see that in you, and I couldn't stand that they couldn't."
So that's why Grace had cut all contact between him and the colonies. He wasn't some prized pet on a pedestal. Grace was trying to keep him safe.
Simon feels like he's reeling again. It's whiplash. Someone taking the handles of a ship and wrenching it into a free fall spin through space.
"You care," he chokes, "You care, about me. Not what I can give you." He pauses again, splaying his hand to tap his fingers to his chest, "Just me." Suddenly, his is angry, and raw, and hurting, "No one … Fuck, I don't have the fucking words for this! You cannot care about me! There is something else!" There had to be. No one was ever just kind, not to him. It was always an exchange, always with an ulterior motive. Grace couldn't just want this. Betrayal stung hot at his eyes and for a moment he thought his voice would be lost again as his throat tightened, "Just, just tell me what you want and be done with me like everyone else. I'm too tired to keep doing this."
Grace's whole face caved. A mixed cocktail of confusion and frustration flashed in rapid succession before he simply gave in to looking despaired. He couldn't help but feel the fight in him eat into itself at the emotion, gulping down the sudden swell of an apology climbing his throat. The man looked so utterly guilty about something he had absolutely nothing to add to.
Finally, after a moment, Grace collected himself with a sigh. A long breath through his nose as his lips pursed, on he could feel from where he was perched in the other man's hands.
"Simon … you are the best thing to happen to me in a very long while. The only reason I'd ever stop caring is if you asked me to." His smile is shaky, but there. "Even then, we both know I'm terrible at following rules."
His thumb came up to brush against the side of his face, shaky in the care it took to be gentle in the was he wanted the action to be. "I just want you happy."
The bubbling in his chest finally burst open, and the tug in his heart went taut. Simon let himself fall forward.
If there was one thing Simon had learned in his time on the Hail Mary, it was that Grace showed affection through physical contact. Rocky tended to get the brunt end of it, seeing as he could actually handle the bigger movements of hugs and the very occasional tussle. It wasn't reserved specifically for his best friend though. For someone who said they didn't understand people, Grace lived and breathed interaction and connection. Even when the conversation was steered somewhere he didn't want to follow, he would stay if it meant not being alone.
When Simon had first been coming back to his senses during his healing, he'd noticed this behavior. He noticed because Grace wasn't like that with him. There was only ever contact when it was deemed a necessity. Grace had come close to it several times, especially as of recent with the worst of him injuries healed, but Simon still caught him pulling back. At first he chalked it up to the mutations. Grace was a scientist, faced with an unknown mutagen. Simon was something unclean. It was just natural. It meant nothing.
He was starting to believe it was a line he'd made in the sand, and Grace was simply obeying it. A dog told to sit with the ball right in front of him. He couldn't really attest to his actions during his first few months with the man, but he couldn't deny he'd been rather jumpy in the period between realizing he was still alive and realizing his new roommate was a fucking giant. Any number of things could have been miscommunicated, especially in his silence. He would need to be the one to cross the line and show he hadn't meant it in the first place.
Simon placed his hand against the hook of Grace nose. The giant's eyes crossed slightly, but he couldn't find it in him to laugh as he pressed weight into the hold. His forehead came forward to rest against other's brow. It was an odd sensation to feel the muscle pull, a small hiccup informing him Grace was trying not to cry again. At his height and with his missing arm, he couldn't really give the hug he had wanted, but he couldn't deny he'd try his best to show he cared. His tail curled up to rest against the side of Grace's cheek to compensate.
"I am happy," Simon breathed out through his held back tears, "You make me so happy." He made him care again. About someone that wasn't just him. He cared about Grace and he hated when the man didn't seem to care about himself. Bending over backwards to appease to everyone and then calling himself selfish when he set boundaries, as if boundaries were always supposed to be crossed. "You need to be happy too," he said, his grip tightening slightly, "You are a person too. You did not deserve what happened to you either."
There's a ghost of a touch as Grace pulled his free hand just behind Simon's back, all but nuzzling into his hold. The blond shook in an effort not to let his tears turn to full body sobs. "Yeah," he sniffled, "Thank you. I'm glad I could make you happy."
Simon is suddenly very glad Grace couldn't see his face from this angle as it erupted into a bright red. Oh, Grace had definitely understood that particular sentence. So much for not saying too much.
… It was fine, actually. He was surprised at how much more embarrassment he felt versus fear.
He could get used to not being so afraid.
A loud warble plays from across the room, followed by a double tap and the sound of the translator from the lab. "Grace Simon done talking, question?"
Grace jolted. Simon wheezed slightly as he was pressed into the man's cheek as he turned his head. "Rocky!" His grip was immediately dropped when Simon flinched at the volume, quietly apologizing as the smaller man stumbled back. He gave a pat to the blonde's nose before turning to the hall Rocky was rather ominously standing in.
Grace blinked, eyes squinting, "Were you listening this whole time?"
Rocky does not have any outward muscles to stiffen, but he definitely looked like he'd just been caught. Even his voice over the translator seemed to convey his sudden antsiness, "Noooooo. Grace and Simon just loud. How sleep when this loud, question?"
"Not how it works, Rock," Grace is quick to rebuttal, pulling his glasses up from their hiding spot. He wiped his face a final time with his sleeve before fighting to put them on. They still rest crookedly in their place. "You know you can't use my own tricks, we both know you sleep like the dead."
The eridian mimics the sound of an angry chihuahua before he gave his rebuttal. "Rocky sleep like rock. Human sleep like pebble."
"Slept like a baby means something completely different to us," Grace said, but furrowed his brow as he thought on it a moment longer. "Not really sure why though, babies are notoriously terrible sleepers."
"Because humans weird and inefficient. Say things backwards. Confusing." There's a pitter patter of Rocky's xeonite suit hitting the floor as he skittered into the lab, followed by a loud cacophony of musical screeching. "And messy! Why Grace always leave shit on the floor?"
Simon snickered as Grace visibly deflated. "Allowing him near other humans was a bad idea. He's learning."
Simon can remember the exact moment when he'd been left alone with the translator long enough to help Rocky input those exact curses in. "Don't blame me," he said with a smirk and a shrug, "I just started talking."