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It takes nearly braining himself on the doorframe of the bedroom to realize that the noise that awoke him has tapered off. It's just silence, peaceful, quiet, silence.
Silence has been at a premium for the last month, and while his hindbrain relaxes at the realization, the other half of his mind slowly careens up a hill to a mild panic. Grace wasn't awoken to silence, and while he's not exactly complaining - they've been working on getting Nikki into a more regular sleep schedule now that her colic has started to fade away - the abrupt ending of the noise makes his heart pound in his ears. Nikki's cries when she wakes are something he and Simon are both so attuned to that they awake without thinking, something in the back of their minds recognizing their daughter's distress before they can even open their eyes.
It's that sound that had awoken him, and now it's quiet. As it on him, and he picks up the pace, beelining to their daughter's room with an urgency that rises with every second.
It's not like there's any predators in the biodome - even the Eridians go through a screening and advanced entry way to gain access - so it's not like something has snuck in in the middle of the night and snatched their baby, another point for Erid over Earth, but that doesn't mean that something could have happened. Any number of ailments can befall an infant, especially one as young and vulnerable as Nikki. He'd done so much reading on infant ailments, including a near obsession over SIDS, that Simon had threatened to take the computer away from him. Adrian had assured Grace privately that Simon was doing his own research when Grace was otherwise occupied, he was just better at hiding it.
So he doesn't fall over himself, but it's a near thing, stumbling half blind through the house to nursery with his glasses half on, half off his face. There's dim lighting throughout the space, because they've needed it with being up and down all night, but his fear and hurry makes him clumsier than usual, and he catches himself in a half fall, throwing up his arms to catch the doorframe. Instantly, his heart clenches for a different reason that fear.
It's dimly lit in their daughter's nursery, only a few strings of lights that line the room giving the space a soft, cozy glow. It's just enough light to see her in her little bassinet, still swaddled up, eyes closed and breathing softly. Her little chest is rising and falling, and the monitor on Grace's wrist - which should been the first thing he checked when he woke up, but honest to god, he'd been on autopilot - the one that Adrian had built to monitor the baby's heart-rate and vitals at all times, is quietly humming at it's normal pulse.
But it's not the monitor that makes Grace's heart clinch, even if the sight of his daughter always makes him feel like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest.
Rocky is sitting at his perch by Nikki's bassinet, in his usual 'sleep-watch' pose that Grace has been used to for so long. There is a quiet, almost lulling melody coming from him, he's talking, and Grace knows enough Eridian now that he can translate without the machine, he's definitely the most fluent person ever in Eridian, but his brain is still too sleep scrambled to make it out.
But the noises that Rocky is making - Grace can't quite make out the translation, standing there in rumbled sleep clothes - sounds melodic, even more so than usual. It's almost like the way Simon sings her to sleep when she's fussy. The concept of Rocky singing their baby to sleep with an Eridian lullaby is so overwhelming that he nearly collapses right then and there.
For a second, Nikki snuffles like she's going to wake, and Grace startles because, at this point he's as attuned to her as his own needs, but before he can react, Rocky's melody rises in pitch, just the slightest bit, continuing in it's soothing song, and the baby settles right back down, making a contented noise, smacks her lips, and seems to drift back into sleep. The monitor at his wrist confirms what he already knows, her heart beat steady and strong.
Rocky doesn't move, just continues to sing - to sing to his Grace's baby girl - and he's known Rocky long enough to know that he's knows he's there, and if he were to pause in his lullaby, because that's what it is, a lullaby - that he'd say something like, Rocky watch Nikki. Everything good Grace go back sleep now. They stopped needing words to communicate a long time ago.
He can't help the smile that stretches across his face, and the relief is so stark and the scene so sweet, that he nearly slips into what Rocky calls being leaky, so he takes his leave, nodding to his best friend a silent thanks, and leaves them to it. Rocky inclines the slightest bit towards him in a silent acknowledgement, without once breaking his melody, singing Nikki back to sleep. There's nowhere safer, not in the whole galaxy, than right here, under Rocky's watch.
He slips back into bed, feeling all the tension roll off of him like a wave as he sinks down. It's wonderfully warm, Simon runs hot, always has, and he rolls towards him as his habit, tucking himself up against the other man. Simon mumbles in his sleep, only half aware, lifting his arm subconciously to let Grace slot himself under his arm, and he settles with familiarity against Simon's chest, letting the rise and fall of the other man's breathing lull him back to sleep.
"'She alright?" Simon's voice is sleep-rough, and deep. It rumbles out of his chest against Grace's ear, and he smiles, tucking himself closer, burrowing into Simon's side with his arm an archor around him. "Ryland?"
"Yeah," he says, already drifting back to sleep. "She's good."