Chapter Text
He didn't like thinking about it.
It's been a few years Grace has moved into the dome the Eridians built for him. He has things he never thought he'd have again. A bathtub. A little kitchenette. Paint. Friends. A home. Students. Words could never come close to describing the love and awe and gratitude he bears for the Eridians, for Rocky.
And still, there's one (or two or three, he's got layers) topic he doesn't like to think about. His soulmate.
See, Earth had barely started their research into the whole thing. Connections and whatnot. It was brushed to the back of his mind once Projecy Hail Mary came into focus and became... everything. Despite everything. And while he knows he was okay with never meeting them on Earth, the waves of grief and mourning a person you'd never see or know or love.
As a child, he'd wondered about it endlessly. Wondered if any of the kids in his class would be his friend or would be the friend. Wondered into high school less about it, most of the kids hadn't met their person by then either. But there was that one couple. The Golden Couple. Quite literally made for each other, complimented their strengths and balanced out their weaknesses.
He believed less in soulmates when he heard they'd gotten married and divorced a year after his freshman year of undergrad. And despite that, he'd felt... relief. It's okay he hadn't met the one. Even if they were the one, it wasn't a fairytale. They were still a person, capable of pushing boundaries and burping obnoxiously and leaving their socks around and smelling like crap.
But with the choice of going to space being ripped from him, so had the chance of ever meeting this person. He hadn't made peace with the fact that he wouldn't ever see them in his lifetime, not yet.
So yeah, not his favorite thing to sit and ponder on.
Except even if it wasn't pleasant, much like a thousand other things, it still happened.
He still thought of the soulmate he should've had. The connection he could've had. The way Stratt had stripped him of that choice, of his person, even if he didn't need or want them in that moment. Now he never would have them.
And not to mention, would they have even wanted him? Back then and now? He's not exactly the cream of the crop. He had been a coward, one willing to cling to grass in hopes he didn't have to give his life up. He loved Earth. He had a life! He wanted to live. Wasn't that enough... and in any case, now, he's pushing his luck with his body. He adjusted well to the home tailored to his tastes, and now with all the work he gets to do. Teach the Eridian children, work with the many scientists and engineers and doctors and help them advance as far as his body will allow him.
There's only so many hours in a day. And only so many days he can squeeze out of his life. (Not that he was going to die soon, but well, you never know.)
His spiraling had gotten bad these past few weeks, pushing himself farther and farther and after a few shots of Eridian-made liquor, a wonder he's still trying to figure out how they managed, he clasps his hands together, as if he's praying. Pressing his mouth to the edges of the birthmark. Of the connection.
Some people had names, some people had marks. His mark covered his entire hand, one shade darker than his other hand. Theoretically, if he had one, and they touched, it would be a smear of colors. An explosion of fate meeting reality. He'd never get that. He presses a soft kiss. Mourning for himself and the person he let down. “I'm sorry you were stuck with me.” He whispered… before throwing his guts up in the toilet he was sitting by.
The hangover was killer. The silence had been worse.
And then, as if he had a sense for these crises, Rocky came and bursted his bubble of loneliness with harried and brutal knocks to his door
After almost slipping on his face and shoes near the door, he yanks the door open and sees Rocky hopping with each leg, chirping and whistling as Grace's face twisted with confusion, and then smoothed out with understanding. And then he was also hopping on his feet, throwing a goodbye to Armando over his shoulder as he follows Rocky down the beach.
“We found another human in Erid's orbit!”
Grace stood off to the side, watching with Rocky as a human proof elevator came down with Heather, Wicks and Pat, three Eridians who quickly threw themselves into the science and the medicines and studying him. They were quite literally the team of doctors on humans. So far.
Plenty of other Eridians were yelling, melodies layered over each other but as the elevator came down, and revealed the stretcher with-
-with a blood-soaked body.
Quite literally covered, soaked, coated, caked in the blood.
Grace wondered whether or not he was cut out for this, the heavy scent of iron lingering in every corner.
Holding his breath, he ducked into the lab shower where they carried the human to, helping them gently unwrap layers and layers of bloodsoaked clothing, hardly touching him. Once they'd gotten the clothes off of him, it was just a matter of rinsing most of the blood they could get off of him. Rinse and rinse. And then rinse some more. His stomach churns during the entire thing.
He was only there for rinsing, after that, he had to turn around and… get some air. Pushing the doors open to the open dome-home with the lights dimmed, he gags, nothing in his stomach except bile and the bit of breakfast he had in the morning.
The amount of blood… you didn't get from just one human. And there'd been no visible injuries on him. Plenty of scars, yes, all varying in size and age but none so fresh as the blood that's being drained out of the lab.
Questions runs through his brain, and for once, he couldn't find a single answer. How does a single human find its way so far away from Earth, coated in blood? Had they lost hope and sent someone else out? Did that mean the beetles failed? Had he failed-
“Grace's face is leaking, is Grace okay?”
He swipes the tears away automatically, sniffing, realizing a little late that he's still hunched over. “Yeah,” he wipes the swinging, drooping spit from his mouth away. “Just- the amount of blood he was in, there's no way it had come from him. I don’t understand why there's so much blood- or even how he's here right now. Earth is so far, how- why-” Grace feels the words getting away from him. Rocky leans against his leg, patting him through his suit.
“Grace Rocky find out why. Human will be okay.” And Rocky leans back, as if to look up at him, “Grace won't be the only human anymore.” And that- as well as everything else- hit him like a bag of bricks. He's not the only human anymore.
He's not alone.
… There goes the pretense that he's okay, tears immediately bubble and fall over his eyelashes and down his cheeks. “You're so right, buddy. I'm not the only one anymore.” He grins at his friend through the tears. He bends down at his knees, hugging him closer.
“Grace is leaking again.”
“Sure am, Rock.”
“Sad?”
“Not sad. So happy, so so happy.”
After their heart-to-heart, they head back inside, where they've dried and dressed the human in some of the clothes they've made for Grace. A shirt with some science pun and then pajama pants. Socks covered his feet and a blanket was thrown over his legs and stomach. Heather greeted them with her baritone notes, and updates them on what they've learned so far. Grace blinks in surprise. He wasn't even gone that long.
To his relief, it's a short list.
He's a male human in his late twenties or early thirties. The blood, as he had guessed, wasn't his. The ship that was orbiting Erid had been a submarine, (they didn't have a word for submarine nor did they know it was man-made,) and it had neared closer and closer till one of the Eridians had seen it, testing a prototype telescope.
They cut it open and out the blood had spilled and out the man had come.
And that's as far as they know.
Grace watches the man with his hands twisting his shirt, tracking for any little movement. His hair, slicked back with the blood, came alive after the brutal wash. No longer drenched and caked in drying blood, his hair splayed over the pillows like a dark halo, stubble covering the lower half of his cheek. The scars littering his skin are like constellations, there are so many. He gets lost in the next one as his eyes keep grazing his exposed arms.
“Strange human sleeps,” Wicks’ feet thump in tandem as he walks around to the other side of the human. “We watch. We tell Rocky, Rocky tell Grace. Grace and Rocky visit anytime.” They settle in for however long he plans to sleep, ushering Grace to get his own rest.
“So, big plans after this?” Grace aims for casual, doesn't think it lands when he turns around. Somehow, despite the only other human currently sleeping in the lab on the other side of the dome, it feels smaller, his home.
“Rocky watch Grace sleep.” His best friend doesn't even stop at the porch as he sputters and protests (weakly, Rocky would add.)
..
…
It has been close to six days. Every day, he would teach his class, work with Rocky in the lab for an hour or two before he inevitably brought himself back to the lab.
True to their word, had any update come through, they let him know. At first, it was just tiny little things. Tiny twitches that they thought meant he was waking up. Nope, he'd told them, “he's probably just dreaming.” And at that, he starts to read to him.
His regular rambling might not be welcomed but a story with a purpose and a cast to love, well, who could blame him?
He starts with a short one. Hitchhiker's Guide to The Galaxy. He snorts, rubbing the pages between his forefinger and thumb. He kind of wished they were in that universe. Where depressed robots and presidents kidnapped themselves and mice were the highest order of your planet, which was destroyed for a bypass.
In any case, he's done with it on the second night. Night after night, he brings a book, reads it to him. Hand twitches as he itches to brush his hair out of his face, to hold his hand- anything. But he didn't want to make him uncomfortable, if he woke up when any of that was happening. And besides. He's… nervous. Nervous about touch, with another human. Nervous that he's going to mess it up somehow. Or worse, that he's not even there and he's just a hallucination Grace has made up.
The seventh day comes and goes, the students are especially rowdy so they get to go home an hour earlier. He works with Rocky and ponders and paces and hangs upside down for a little bit. They're no closer to figuring out what happened than the day they've brought the human.
Speaking of… on the third day of waiting, Rocky had asked what Grace was going to name him. He laughed a little. “Oh he's not- when he wakes up he'll tell us. He's not our pet.”
“Grace named Eridians. Eridians not pets either.”
“There's a difference. I can't replicate the sounds you guys make, it's physically impossible for me to say your names. When he wakes up, he can tell us and I'll be able to say it too. No need for me to name him.”
“Okay… and it's the reverse, Grace Eridians’ pet.”
Grace laughs until he doesn't. And he doesn't pout, absolutely not, until it's time for the only other human's bedtime story. He picks a collection of poetry this time. Not his usual but he figures he should give the guy some variety. On the last poem, when his back was protesting sitting at an angle for this long for days on end, he sits up, leans closer. Says it quietly.
“This one is by Fanny Howe, called I won't be able to write from the grave.” He attempts a smile, knows it looks pained than anything else. He wipes underneath his eyes with a quick thumb. “Uh,” he started humbly, feeling all out of sorts so quickly, “I won't be able to write from the grave so let me tell you what I love.” He paused, the words choking in the back of his throat.
It felt like the first couple of years of being awake and the few days in the dome, anything would make him cry, huh?
“Oil, vinegar, salt, lettuce, brown bread, butter, cheese and wine, a windy day, a fireplace, the-” he clears his throat, shifting in his spot, “the children nearby, poems and songs, a friend sleeping in my bed… and the short northern nights.” He closes the small book. Sniffles and the aching loneliness, despite the other human next to him, rears it's ugly head in his lungs. Expands and makes it hard to breathe, leaks out of his eyes and nose.
“I know you need to heal but it'd be nice if you woke up. It- it gets real lonely being the only other human, y’know?” He says, gripping at the edge of the blankets.
He stands and tucks the book under his arm, barely giving Pat a nod before exiting the door. He stares out at the water for a long time.
He makes it seventeen steps away from the lab before the door opens and Pat is calling for him again.
He rushes back, tripping thrice as he makes it back to the lab where the man is heaving and puking his guts out…
blood guts. Okay. He can totally- he can handle-
He turns right around and heaves his own dinner into the waste bin.
…
Once he stops vomiting, he stands with the bucket pressed against his chest. Trying hard to hold anything else in his stomach as he faces the scene before him.
The human pants for air, hair hanging and covering any parts of his face. Flinches when any of the Eridians came too close to him, even just to clean the blood vomit up. Eventually he starts to look around. His gaze locks onto Grace's when he gets to him. And Grace, never one to make eye contact or memorize faces, couldn't look away. First human in years, and he's… dang it, he's handsome.
His eyes, vast and dark, pierce through him as if he's nothing more than air. It's electrifying. It's making him squirm. He shifts in his stance and reaches out with a hand not holding the vomit bin, “hello, I'm Dr. Ryland Grace, right now you're on Erid- oh shoot, uh, do you know or understand English? Uh-” he starts to apologize as the human pulls himself back over the bed and lays on his back again, watching him make a fool of himself.
“I know English.” The human interrupts his rambling, his voice is rough but rumbles deep inside of Grace's chest.
“Oh! Oh okay, good. Er, like I said my name is Dr. Ryland Grace, right now you're on the planet Erid. What's your name?” He asks, the hand he held out for a handshake came back towards him to rub at his wrist. He's messing this up. First human in years and he's forgotten how to greet people, great.
The man just stares at him.
“You do have a name, right?” Grace asks, and then cringes at how rude that sounded. “Sorry, it's been- literally years since I've spoken to another human. I don't- I'm sorry if I offended you.” He doesn't interrupt his rambling, just watches him as he frets himself into a corner.
When Grace finally tapers off and stops talking, he speaks. “It's Simon.”
Grace beams at him. He hasn't messed this up yet.
“It's nice to meet you, Simon. I-” Rocky comes up to him, greeting him and then Simon. “Oh yeah, Simon, the planet Erid is home to the Eridians, the lovely folk that are working around us right now. And this is Rocky, he's my friend-” Rocky knocks his carapace gently against his leg. “Best friend, my bad. Anyways, they found you orbiting the planet, do you- do you remember what happened before you woke up?”
Simon breathes in and then breathes out as he looks away.
Then, Grace remembers himself. Remembers how they found him.
“I'm sorry, it had to have been… awful, whatever happened.” That much blood doesn't come from one person, especially one so uninjured. Something had to have happened.
Simon doesn't say anything. Doesn't explain. Just looks at the wall.
“Listen, I don't know what happened, but you're safe on Erid, here. You're okay.” Simon doesn't give away he's listening, but he can see his jaw clenching and he can see his eyes glisten.
“And if you're feeling up to it, we can get you some food. I know you just- kind of threw up already but whenever you're feeling better.”
“Water here,” Rocky says, holding out bag. Grace didn't even see him grab anything.
“Thanks Rock,” Grace places the bin down and walks closer to Simon, holding out the water. “Here's some water, I'll see about getting your own toothbrush and some other clothes, if you don't like those.” Simon doesn't turn to look at him, to grab the water, or anything. He clenches his jaw and Grace looks down at his hands, clenched as well.
Ah.
Grace places the bag of water by his feet and takes several steps back. “Okay, I think we should all take a break. Simon, take a second, drink some water. We'll come back in and talk more when you're ready. Just let us know.” Grace says and kind of begs the Eridians with his eyes to leave the room. Wicks has this hesitancy before he walks out with the rest of them.
Grace is the last person out the door, hand on the slender door-handle. “For what it's worth, I'm glad you're okay. We'll be waiting whenever you're ready.”
And he shuts the door. Blowing air out of his mouth as he goes over everything in his head. He's not comfortable. He's barely talking to us, well, to me. But… he is human and he is alive and he knows English and he's going to be okay.
Grace wrings his hands. Whatever comes next is probably going to be like pulling teeth with air. But he's not alone.
He flexes his hand, shaking it out, not bothering to think past the slight burning sensation in it. There's no reason to. Even if it burns a little more as he takes the couple steps to reach the beach.