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“You believe in God?”
“Beats the alternative.”
Eva Stratt has always believed. Her father would bring her along to church, the scent of the wood-warmed pews ingrained into her memory, pictures of her Saviour stained in glass. Scriptures that replay in her mind, old hymns that her youth choir sung. A reverence to the one who'd save them all, a death sentence conquered.
But she knew of death too well, of devils made man, in the way that wars waged without people caring. Of stories her grandmother would tell, the scars of that time still bleeding. Her own government complicit in the loss of many, of history that was swept under the rug. Belief made twisted by the hands of the elites.
And now the sun was dying.
Ryland Grace was not who she'd expect, this scientist made laughing stock among his peers. He was awkward and fumbling, always on the move—yet his passion was there, a quality lacking amongst the other candidates. He thought less of himself, even though he had all the potential, like his ideas were too big and he had to shrink himself to fit into the world.
When she was sent to meet him, she never thought this man would be the one to understand this new lifeform. Astrophage, he called it, with his dorky little smile and glasses that hung off his face.
She planned on sending him away from the front lines, his heart to open, too soft for her line of work, but maybe he could find something on his own. It's why she left those three dots. A hope that he could do something greater, she saw it in him from then, but she also needed the bold, the people who weren't afraid to piss others off.
Yet he wanted to stay on her task force, begged even. And maybe, foolishly, she wanted to see his potential too. She hoped that this decision wouldn't be one she regretted.
Discretion will preserve you;
Understanding will keep you,
Eva stood alone on the deck of her ship, the last of the setting sun lingering over the horizon. Its rays cast a holy light, a declaration of glory, how beautiful, this dying earth.
All too quickly, she realised, she became used to Grace's presence. The warmth of his skin radiating the coldest nights, always a half step behind her, if not directly at her side. The sound of his laugh that broke the emptiness she left. How without fail, her eyes would find him as she entered a room.
“Aren't you cold out here?” His voice lifted through the silence, as he leaned at the edge of the doorway. The beams of orange catching the wispy blond of his hair, a halo over his head. Only he would be bold enough to seek her out, and for some reason she couldn't muster, she would let him. She saw his hand flex, almost itching to reach out, but he hesitated, a sort of meekness he carried like it was his cross to bear.
She turned away, his clumsy goodness too much to behold, “no one would miss me in there.”
“I would,” quietly, a whisper she had almost missed. “Mind if I join you?”
“No,” glancing at him through her peripheral, she wondered why he wanted to be near her, it's not like she offered anything good—she, the bringer of calamity, a general trying to stop the forces greater than herself, a scorn to most, an object to be thrown around by world leaders. It's not like she ordered him to report to her at his every free moment, yet Grace would still look for her at his every chance. “Wouldn't you rather be with the team?” She knew a group of her scientists were at the bar, celebrating another breakthrough about stabilising the fuel.
Grace gave her a mild look of shock, eyes blown a touch, almost like she offended him, “the team's great and all, but I could use the quiet,” and in an even softer voice, “wanted to see you too.”
Eva doesn't think she'd ever understand why he's so intent on being kind to her. She knew she overturned his life, ripping him away from his beloved students, yet he held no animosity for her, casual trust she gave no reason to have earned. But she let him slide next to her, shoulders some inches apart. The sound of waves lapping against the aircraft carrier was the only thing left behind.
He's become too important, the leading expert in astrophage biology, and she already knows what might come should anything happen to her science officers.
But selfishly, she hoped this man would not be a lamb for her to slaughter. Death would stain her hands, for the greater good of humanity—but by God she hoped he wouldn't be one of them.
And the foundations of the earth are shaken.
The earth is violently broken,
The earth is split open.
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.
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You, director, will you be swallowed by duty?
The dimness of the room was lit only by the small lamp of her desk. Eva's eyes began to strain against the harsh light of her computer screen. For as impeccable as her posture was in meetings with presidents and prime ministers, military officers, scientists and economists, and even with her very own crew, in the seclusion of her office, she'd let herself hunch slightly, spine near relieving the usual tension it carried.
Another sigh left her lips, most of this day spent passing emails and reading through reports. Seriously, did she have to beg the US government to see why rationing their energy was a good idea? The luminosity of the sun may not yet be a major issue, but even come next summer, all evidence showed a major drop in crop production, more energy needed to be invested into greenhouse farming. And even then, that would barely support humans, there's still the issue of meat production, of animal meals needing to somehow be made plausible—otherwise protein would be made a luxury. The survivability of the human race was Eva's priority, but animals would still need food too, and she doubted most people would be willing to give up their pets, even if food security dropped.
Her palms pressed to her eyes, where they rested on the desk, pressure hammering beneath them. She let her mind slip into endless thoughts, trying to gather some bit of herself before sending another lengthy email as to why yes we should be prioritising the food industry, no it is not an excuse to drill for more oil. But the wicked will continue their wickedness. Every demand on her shoulders weighed boulders, everything not yet done a reminder of how much was at stake.
Those snakes at the top, their whole spiel on how their country was more important, that trust was not something they could give to their neighbors. Wars will break out, but the soldiers would be much too hungry to fight them.
She was pulled out of her head by a hand resting on her shoulder. Larger, much warmer than her own, gentle, no callouses—it startled her, before realising who it belonged to. Grace then.
Instead of brushing him away, her own hand moved to rest on his, keeping it in place, eyes opening to meet the too hopeful blues that stared at her like she hung the moon.
“Uh sorry, thought you were asleep.” He looked away, sheepishly, but did not yet retract his hand. “Are you busy?”
Her head shook in response, a strand of her hair loosely falling, slightly obscuring her view of him. “Just thinking.”
“I'm not bothering you, am I?”
A huff fell from her lips, “you don't bother me.” Her eyes lost their tension, the muscles of her brow falling from the previous pensiveness. Eva found that happening too often around him, how her heart melted in the wake of his sunlight.
And he stared back all the same. How could such icy coloured eyes hold so much warmth?
“It's late,” he breathed, “you should get some rest.”
“I can rest when I'm dead.”
Grace's body now leaned on the edge of her desk, completely turned to face her. He tilted forward, just barely entering into her space, she found no need to push away. “The world would not end if you got one more hour of sleep.”
“The amount of work I get done in that time is more than worth it. The faster I correspond, the faster things get done. You did biology, you should know about chain reactions.” Her palm squeezed his wrist. “And you're awake too.”
“That's different, the experiment we were running needed someone to supervise and then I need to clean up—”
“Oh is it? That's still work, Dr. Grace.”
He doesn't say anything in response, the silence almost felt natural. The hand not currently held under her own rose to tuck the fallen strands away from her face. It lingered longer than what professionalism dictated, yet Eva only stilled, his fingers brushing the tip of her ear. She watched him under the yellowed lamplight, his features softening even more. The mess of his hair, the small freckles dotting his face, only visible with the short distance between them. His usual smile easy, and if she were anyone else, this sort of close intimacy would have made her blush.
But the moment ended quickly, the vibrations of her phone loud against the desk. Damned time zone differences, her phone would always be active no matter the hour.
“Get some rest Grace, you have a meeting at eight.”
His eyebrows raised, unamused.
“This is my last official duty for the night.”
“Promise you'll go to bed?”
“I don't need to promise you anything.” She half heartedly rolled her eyes, before answering the still ringing phone.
Eva gave one last squeeze to his wrist, thumb feeling his pulse point. That seemed to be enough for Grace, his own hand responding before pulling away. The room too empty in his absence.
Catch us the foxes,
The little foxes that spoil the vines,
For our vines have tender grapes
The car turned sharply as it rounded a corner, Eva jerked from her half-dazed state. She and Grace were on their way to a hotel; tomorrow, they, and some of her other core crew members, were required at a global conference in Beijing. It was more to parade around the future heroes of humanity—Ilyukhina, at least, would be having the time of her life, Yáo was grateful to be nearer to his family and DuBois was happy anywhere that Shapiro was. It made little sense for her to step away from work, but this seemed to boost morale enough for the sacrifice to be worth it.
The others were already settled for the night, she however, just came from another overseas meeting. Grace had insisted on staying behind, even when he wasn't allowed to sit in with her. And now, they're about an hour away from their lodging.
Chills erupted across her skin, even under the long sleeved shirt she wore. The end of August, and this usually hot and humid time of year, colder than ever. She reached around for her coat, but in their rush to fly over, she must have left it behind.
Grace, as always, noticed and shrugged off his cardigan, simply handing it to her. But before she could protest, he shook his head gently. “You hate being cold, Stratt, I'll be fine without it.”
“I hope you're not wearing this tomorrow,” she deflected, something about this felt like crossing an unspoken barrier.
“Gosh I wish, but I know for a fact you packed me a suit—couldn't even let me wear a fun tie.” He nudged the cardigan into her arms, the inches between them seemed too much.
And maybe she should've disagreed, the world would get colder and she'd have to deal with it anyway, but the wool was soft beneath her hands, warmed from his body. The sheer volume of fabric pooled in her lap, so much larger than her. The cream of the cardigan looked so comforting, the foxes stared back. Maybe because it was his, the thought of wearing it became more enticing.
Eva carefully slipped it on, letting herself be engulfed by the scent of Ryland. It was distinctly him, the sandalwood of his cologne layered over some warmed spice, the clean standard soap they used on base, the lingering sharpness of the ethanol that he used in the lab. She resisted the thought of sinking into the wool, of burying her nose into his scent.
But now, with him around her, another yawn tried to fight through her lips, one that she stifled.
“We still have a good while before we arrive, why not close your eyes for a minute.”
The car jerked again, and Eva almost slid from her seat. It would be wise, considering the three hours she got last night, not to mention how disrupted her sleep was since the last leg of the project was nearing.
Grace stretched his hand over the backs of their seats, looking at her over the rim of his glasses. With that she closed the gap between them, entering into his space. If his breath stuttered, she did not mention it, and before long he rested his arm over her shoulder, guiding her head to rest in the crook of his neck. Professionalism be damned.
“This okay?” Lightly, only spoken for her to hear.
She hummed a noise of approval, pressing into his heat. She felt almost greedy, taking so much for herself, what right did she have to this moment. But Grace had let her in, his weight around her melting the worries in her mind.
His other hand hesitated, hovering over her waist, Eva stopped his very loud overthinking by dragging it down until she was secured against the shaking of the bumpy drive.
He was warm, strikingly so, everything about him was.
“You should rest too,” she closed her eyes, raising her free hand to the back of his head, rolling the strands that stuck wildly at his neck.
A slow sigh left him, her nails slightly scraping, before reaching behind his ear to pull his glasses off, placing it into the door's pocket. Her head pillowed his, and surrounded by all of him, Eva let herself rest.
Faith was something she held quietly over the years, a belief that tomorrow would come, no matter the darkness of night.
As a child, she'd watch the stars above, how vastly infinite the universe felt, how incredibly small she was in comparison to the grandeur of it all. And the earth held such wonders that it was only right for her to be the head of this operation.
The only reason she said yes was because she doesn't think this to be their end, not yet. Wars were raged in the name of conquest, disease and outbreak took over the world—hell, humanity themselves caused global warming, leading towards an unnatural mass extinction event. And despite it, they lived to see another tomorrow. Her days were never a guarantee, yet she hoped for that chance of a sunrise, that this cold winter had a warmer spring.
She loved her people too much to let them die like this, for all humanity's failures, there was such beauty in this creation. She wondered if heaven would be proud that she was willing to sacrifice herself, the world's whipping boy. But she realised early on that she'd do whatever it took to secure their future, that she'd make these choices all over again.
Eva held onto her faith, because faith was all she could have. In herself, in her crew, in the resilience that only mankind could have. And now in the man Ryland Grace.
You shall not be afraid of the terror by night,
Nor of the arrow that flies by day,
Nor of the pestilence that walks in darkness,
Nor of the destruction that lays waste at noonday.
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Do not be afraid.
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Why then, Eva, are you afraid?
The explosion rattled throughout the grounds, the fire roaring as she realised what was happening. The force of the ground on her bones, the deafening silence that rang in her ears. Her body moved before she could think, Ryland already following closely.
No, God please not him.
But by the time she met with her crew, the deaths of DuBois and Shaprio were confirmed, an experiment gone wrong. And she thought she herself the biggest fool, that maybe he would stay out of this mess.
But Eva knew what the world needed, maybe she's known since she first met him.
Ryland Grace was their only hope. And she was the executor commanding him to die.
“I don't want to die! Don't send me off to die! Please!” Ryland begged. “Stratt!”
She watched from the window of the office, as tears streamed down his face. Eva willed herself not to cry then, taking in this view of him, as if it were her duty to witness all of him. Painfully, Grace was shoved into the dirt, the sunshine of his jacket smearing, the light dimmed. And she could not save him from his fate.
She took of its fruit and ate. She also gave to her husband with her, and he ate.
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You are the one to condemn him, you, Eve, handed him the fruit, his blood is yours only. He to his grave and you, your life sentence.
Later that night, she cried and cried until her chest heaved tight, until her throat rang dry, until she had no more energy to even hold herself up. She begged all of heaven to bear witness, that this choice would be taken away from her.
But there really was no choice, and she wondered why it had to be her. This crown that settled over her head, the weight that pulled at her spine. She knew exactly what she was capable of, and Eva would do what humanity needs. This blood was her own to shed.
And yet she allowed that grief to wash over her. The tears stained her face, and she crumbled in the darkness of her room. She grieved, too, for DuBois and Shapiro, weeping until the sun rose again.
Yet who knows whether you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this.
The project has worn on all of them—now two days before launch. There's so much to be done, so little time to get everything in order. Exhaustion clung like second skin. Her eyes burnt from the hours spent signing off the last of documents, reading through protocols to ensure everything's in check.
She still needed to pack Grace's things away, his little life he built here coming to an end. Currently, she's trying not to think of him, every blink brought the image of him running back to the forefront of her mind. His scream still echoed her thoughts. But that was a problem for later, she thought she should at least visit him, maybe more for herself, even if he wouldn't be awake to remember it.
“Hey boss lady,” was her only warning before two arms linked around her neck.
Eva must have been too lost in her thoughts, blinking back to the present—she was standing in the canteen, waiting for yet another pot of coffee to brew. Ilyukhina was the one burying her face into her shoulder, the woman almost leaning her entire body weight on her.
For a second, she remained frozen, looking over to where Yáo was still finishing his own meal. The commander simply shrugged, a weary sorrow on his face. The two were there when she informed Grace of his fate, and knew exactly what went down afterwards. Even if Yáo didn't like the idea of forcing him to go, he couldn't deny that they were simply out of options.
And again she's reminded painfully that she's sending these people to their graves. It was their lives she signed off on, three souls for the price of billions.
She can at least offer this, one wish to a dying woman.
Carefully, Eva lowered her hands, palms spread wide as she pressed against the expanse of Olesya's back. The heat of her body spreading through the cold of her own, the arms at her neck tighten, a shuddering breath intaken. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she would not let them fall again.
The world continued its busy movements, people walking in and out. Eva was not known for displaying any sort of affection with her crew, camaraderie something most everyone gave up on with her. But she could not find it in herself to care. Maybe she needed this too, after the launch, she knew what fate awaited her, the cold unwavering prison cells, the hostility of governments wanting to parade her as their scapegoat. This very well might be the last positive touch anyone gave her.
So for once, she did not let go. Instead she held on tighter, eyes closed where they stood. Olesya responded by laying her head at the crook of her neck, her breathing came quicker—like fear finally caught up to the usually bright astroengineer that she knew. This star-eyed woman would soon be one with the stars.
Eva caught Yáo's melancholic look, sending him a nod, one he returned.
And there, she gave her one last thing, a prayer whispered in her mind, that heaven received their spirits with open arms. That their last moments were only filled with peace, that their last breaths would not be painful.
Olesya Ilyukhina, Yáo Li-Jie, Annie Shapiro, Martin DuBois, and Ryland Grace too.
That night, well after the facility quieted from the bustling of people, Eva entered Grace's trailer. Carl was already there, starting assembling his personal items. Some books he never got to, pictures from his school children, the patchwork quilt that he always slept with, a case holding his spare glasses, all carefully placed into one of the packing cubes. All he did was nod to acknowledge her, giving her the space to continue.
She moved over to his luggage, already cleaned from the laundry services, but she organised them by item, the colourful socks printed with all kinds of patterns, some of the more comfortable sweatpants he frequented on longer lab days. The stupid science shirts he always wore were already folded neatly. But Eva goes through each of them, he had too many to pack, but she chose all the ones she remembered he liked—she knew by the wear of the fabric, even the ‘I had potential’ shirt that she hated.
His fox cardigan sat at the edge of the small desk in the room, instinctively she reached out for it. The wool remained cold, hours of not being used by him, and the thought made her stomach drop. Bundling the fabric in her hands, she drew it into her chest, it still smelled like him.
Again, she felt her eyes well, but she swallowed against the lump forming in her throat.
“I'm sorry,” Carl said from his station at the door. How ironic when it's supposed to be her saying that.
“You were his best friend,” Eva mumbled into the fabric.
“You were his too.”
Her head shook in protest, “I don't deserve that.”
“Respectfully, Stratt, you don't get to decide that.” His tone was gruff, obviously angry at the way these circumstances played out.
Grace was the brightest among them all, he made friends with anyone he met, but she knew the bond he had with Carl. She thought he would hate her for what she did to him.
She held the soft wool in her hands, running fingers along the stitching, before slipping a hand into her pocket. A keychain with a fox, she had always meant to give him, something she bought on a whim because it reminded her of him, and a medal of St. Christopher, her hope for his safe travels. Gently, she lowered the charms into one of the cardigan's pockets, methodically folding it, before laying it down on the rest of his clothes.
“I'd make that choice again, if I had to.”
“I know.”
And even later that night, only the stars as her companion, Eva finally visited Grace. He's held in the medbay, safely monitored until it's time for launch.
It's odd, seeing him so still, the oxygen mask crossing his face. He doesn't twitch in this state, only the rise and fall of his chest and the beeping of machinery indicating his life. This once lively man, lighting up every room he's in, a smile always on his face. Not even his glasses hung unusually from his chin, everything about this so opposite to what Eva knew him to be.
She's seen him sleep before, napping on the couch in her office, but even then it's different. He does not snore, his face does not twist, his limbs lay flat in a position she's never seen him in. The Grace before her is not the same man she recognised.
Mechanically, she lowered herself into the chair next to the bed. Would he even want her here? He may never forgive her for this, in all his bleeding kindness, this may very well be what hardens his heart from her.
Part of her wanted to scream, he knew her enough to know that the ends would justify the means, that she was not one to back down in spite of morality. This cowardly man, why couldn't he have just been brave for her.
The den of lions would be waiting for him, and she was the one to throw him in. Where he was Daniel, she thought herself as David choosing to face Goliath. Her every action, in standing before the calamities, to lead armies and whole nations, to even head this task force, Eva made that decision herself. But she did not give Grace any choice, and he would pay for her actions, but just like Daniel, she has faith that he will succeed. That her jaws would not clamp him.
Selfishly, she laced one hand into his limp one, laying her ear over his heart. The other tangled into his hair, running nails against his scalp. Maybe the action would allow him some form of comfort. His heart still thumped the same steady beat, her head moving with his chest. She looked over his features, really looking at him, committing his every line to memory.
His body felt warm, so damn warm underneath her, alive, and she's taking that all away.
She stays like that for a while, if she closed her eyes, she could pretend he was just sleeping, that they were resting together. In another life, where they could have been, in any other circumstance. But that was not to be, no, fate dictated otherwise.
Slowly, she lifted her head, bending towards his forehead. Her fingers brushed the wheat strands plastered to his skin, her lips hovering. She pressed a kiss into his hairline, rising again.
“Be strong and courageous, Ryland Grace,” Eva whispered to his skin, a command, one he'd never hear.
There is a cry for wine in the streets,
All joy is darkened,
The mirth of the land is gone.
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Those who sow in tears
Shall reap in joy.
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You, commander, do you regret the choices you had to make?
Her answer arrived decades later, half the world frozen in ice, a tundra wasteland still clinging to life.
She watched his beetles with a smile on her face, the years of hardship was worth this moment. Wars desecrated the land, food scraps hailed like salvation, the weak of this earth left to rot. But humanity prevailed, and because of him, they get to live under the sun, the world forever warmed from this winter.
His own tilted smile was the same one she knew, he looked truly happy. She's glad, then, that he found a friend despite it all. Only Grace could discover intelligence outside their galaxy.
“You're smart, you'll figure it out.” It almost sounded like forgiveness.
She rolled the xeonite figure in her hand, watching him fondly.
Ryland Grace was no lamb to be slaughtered, no, he was her ram caught in the thicket. He had done what no one else was capable of doing. Hero of humanity.