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Grace knew he was getting bad on the trip to Erid when Rocky offered to "watch grace long sleep". The concept of Grace entering a coma had originally terrified the alien who didn't like the idea of Grace sleeping and not waking up, or the idea of having no one to watch him sleep. Grace, who still remembered waking up with no memories and the following panic upon finding his crew mates semi-mummified, wasn’t particularly keen on the whole coma thing, so he didn't complain.
Despite all that, Rocky had brought it up, because Grace wasn’t doing well. He was barely moving, rationing out his food to survive the entire trip, knowing it was no where near enough to live off of, but doing it regardless. The meagre amounts he allowed himself to eat weren't enough to give him much in the way of energy, and he was starting to fade into a numb, empty state.
The first time Rocky had brought it up, it had merely been an offer, a promise that Rocky would be okay with it, but not demanding anything of Grace. It was the same the second time, and the third. The fourth time was different.
"Grace need long sleep to survive," Rocky stated. It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a gentle reminder. It was an insistence. An insistence that had Grace's fragile mind ripping away from this moment and back, back, back to when Stratt had insisted he would go, he would enter the coma and go on this mission, to ensure everyone survived. If he didn't, he would die alongside everyone else. And she had stepped forward, insisting it, all the while preparing to set her men on him, dose him up, and send him to die regardless of what he wanted. And now Rocky was insisting.
Grace started shaking – not that shaking was particularly uncommon for him in this state, but the shakes normally weren't panic driven. This time, they were. Tears streamed down his face as he begged, sobbed, pleaded with Stratt– no, with Rocky. Pleaded with ROCKY not to drug him, not to put him in that coma and doom him to die. He couldn’t. He couldn’t go through that again.
He was still shaking and crying when Rocky's ball pressed up under his arm as the alien nudged his way in against his side the way a dog might when looking for pats, only Rocky was the one offering comfort. Perhaps this was what hugging was for them. Grace was too numb to really think on the connotations of that and what it might mean for either Eridian or human societies in the future. Instead he simply leant into Rocky's ball. For now he would rest.
He was fading in and out now. His body couldn’t keep up with how weak he had become.He could barely choke down the coma slurry, but he knew it was his only choice. Eat the slurry or die of starvation before they even had a chance to reach Erid. Rocky promised that the Eridian scientists would work out something for him to eat. If they didn't, Grace would die. Weirdly, the thought of death didn't terrify him quite so much. No, that wasn’t quite right, he was still just as terrified of it, he just didn't have the energy to spare panicking. Rocky had been trying to make something edible for him, but so far he'd had no success. He was an engineer, not a biologist, so this was far from his strong suit.
For once, Grace had to admit they were lucky it was only him who had survived. Spreading the meagre amounts of food between them would have been impossible, plus they would have far less coma slurry to work with. He wondered if his crew mates would have forced him back under to save his life. Rocky didn't, but the creature who dreaded the idea of being alone for the long trip was tempted. Grace feared his human counterparts would have taken it into their own hands. The only thing he could be grateful for was that Rocky at least would never do what Stratt had. Rocky would NEVER drug Grace without his consent, would never force him to do something he didn't want to, would never send him to his death.
Still, as Rocky bumbled around the Hail Mary, Grace couldn’t help the guilt that dug deep in his gut. He wished, more than anything, that he could be more for Rocky. His friend had been alone for so long, was as starved for company and love as Grace himself was, and yet Grace was here, slumped and exhausted, just barely avoiding starving to death, but not by much. He couldn’t do anything about it, but that didn't stop him wishing he could be more for his friend. Be less of a pathetic loser who couldn’t stand without waves of dizziness hitting him.
Rocky started pressing more and more often for Grace to go into the coma. He knew it was just because his friend was scared – terrified really – for him, but still, it hurt. Mostly, he ignored Rocky the moment he suggested it. Sometimes he yelled himself unconscious. Sometimes he sobbed and shook and pleaded. It was a mess. Grace was a mess. He hated that he took it out on Rocky so often, hated that he was barely aware of time passing, hated how useless he felt.
Most of all though, Grace hated that he had started having nightmares about Rocky holding him down and drugging him, forcing him to fall unconscious and stay under until they reached Erid. He hated that the nightmares had reached the point of repetition where they blurred with reality. That he had started flinching, crying, breaking, whenever Rocky came too close. Worst of all was the audible pain in Rocky's voice after it. The way his song would drop several octaves and shake slightly with uncertainty and emotion. This was Grace's fault. All his fault. He hated himself for it. Perhaps he always would. He prayed one day he would pull himself together, maybe if he got enough food the delirium would end and the panic and anxiety would subside. Maybe.