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It’s his turn to watch them sleep.
Grace doesn’t know when this notion became something he got used to. The sky is blue, space is cold, and if his companions are asleep, Ryland Grace is watching them.
It might have been soon after they’d picked Simon up.
It has been a few months since Mary picked up a strange signal. They were already well into their journey to Erid, expecting a smooth, uninterrupted ride through deep space. Imagine their surprise when one day, out of nowhere, the ship’s computer announced a familiar message.
'Blip-A detected.'
Assuming that it was nothing more than an echo or some kind of space debris, Grace wanted to ignore it. Then again, Mary's sensors were top-of-the-line. So, out of pure curiosity (and Rocky’s insistence), they decided to investigate.
What they didn’t expect to find was a rusty, beaten submarine drifting through space. A human-made submarine. Grace was so taken aback by this strange discovery that it took him some time to realise that Rocky had noticed something else that made him stop in his tracks.
A heartbeat.
It was coming from within the sub and was eerily similar to Grace’s own. At least, that’s what his friend told him. With that knowledge, the two of them knew they couldn’t just turn around and be on their merry way. With some (a lot) difficulty, Grace and Rocky managed to dock the two ships together and pry the bizarre craft open.
What Grace saw inside almost made his breakfast come back out the wrong way.
The human inside was alive, but if it weren't for Rocky’s incredible hearing, Grace could’ve never known. The interior of the submarine was covered in a dried, red substance, which Grace quickly identified as blood, thanks to the foul copper stench it produced, strong enough to get even through his EVA suit filters. There were some kinds of vein-looking things climbing around the walls. It was only when Grace managed to process what he was seeing that he saw the man lying on the floor of the sub.
It was easy to miss him—the bulky shape was covered in red, like everything else. Only the slightest movement of the man’s body, rising and falling with each breath, allowed Grace to understand that he was looking at an actual, living, human being.
Although, seeing the state the man was in, Grace wasn’t sure how long the alive part was going to last.
Carefully and with much difficulty, after making sure that there was no danger to him or Rocky, Grace managed to haul the man inside Hail Mary’s medical room, accompanied by Rocky’s excited whistling. When Armando began the man’s examination, Grace could finally explain to his best friend that they couldn’t even be sure if the man would survive, considering the injuries he sustained.
And boy, there were a lot.
The first, and most prominent, was his left arm. Or, rather, the lack of. To Grace’s utter horror, the limb seemed to be torn from just below where the man’s shoulder was. Armando was able to cauterise and treat it to the best of its abilities, but there was only so much the robot was programmed to do. At least, the man wasn’t in any imminent danger of getting an infection any time soon.
But the missing arm was the least of their concerns.
After removing all the dried blood, it became clear that something was very wrong. The man’s skin was angry red, covered in blisters and the same vein-like things as the ones Grace saw inside the sub. The man also had a fair share of scars, some of them new, like the one going from his forehead across his nose bridge all the way down to his cheek. There were also those that were clearly older, which made Grace wonder who was this man (as if he weren't already asking himself that).
But the worst, and probably the most nerve-wracking, discovery was made only after he could analyse the man’s own blood. It had put Grace on alert immediately, to the point where he was considering just dumping the man out of the airlock.
The man had radiation sickness.
The alert sounded throughout the ship as Grace scrambled to get Rocky and himself as far from the medical room as possible, praying to whoever was listening that it wasn’t too late. It was only after Armando’s more thorough scan confirmed that it was the man himself who was irradiated and not an actual contamination.
Relieved, but still conscious of the problem at hand, Grace began to think about how they were going to help the man. The ARS, if serious, was incredibly difficult, if not almost impossible, to cure in normal conditions.
They were definitely not in normal conditions.
As it turned out after some more thorough analysis, the man’s condition was serious but not severe enough to cause him to die. With adequate care and proper treatment (including keeping the man in an induced coma, which made Grace incredibly uncomfortable), their patient was deemed stable after a few weeks of antibiotics and blood transfusions (thank you for being prepared for literally anything, Stratt).
When it was finally time to wake the man up, both Grace and Rocky were excited. Well, Rocky definitely more than Grace. Actually, Grace was terrified, but he tried to play it cool for his best friend’s sake. He was about to meet another human after years without human contact. One could see why he was slightly nervous.
The procedure went as well as one could’ve expected. Waking up in an unknown place, with a robot arm hovering over you, was… concerning, to say the least. Grace could personally confirm this. Not to mention seeing a five-legged spider made of rocks soon after.
Yeah, not the best way to wake up.
Considering all that, the man’s initial reaction was understandable, especially the screaming and throwing things. Although Grace would’ve gladly skipped the part where he was pinned to the floor with a piece of broken mug pressed to his throat. Yeah, that didn’t feel great.
After everyone had calmed down, with the help of Grace’s incredible negotiating skills (or, rather, after Rocky almost knocked their guest unconscious by ramming into him), the two were able to finally explain what had happened. In return, the man told them his name.
Simon.
Grace liked it. He liked it very much.
It took some time for Simon to open up and explain what had happened to him. He couldn’t explain how he found himself in space. He had no clue. What he could tell them was something Grace was struggling to wrap his head around even if there was clear evidence of it being true.
The Quiet Rapture. All stars dead. All planets dead. All of humanity extinct, except for those on the few space stations. Moons with oceans of blood on them. The COI. Simon’s expedition to the bottom of the ocean. No, not an expedition—an execution. Being welded into that damned thing. The feeling of something watching. He wasn’t alone down there, Simon could tell them that much. The promise of freedom, lost faster than he could’ve made peace with it. Blood, just blood everywhere. A flash of bright light.
The next thing Simon remembered was waking up on the Hail Mary. Whatever had brought him here clearly didn’t want him to die. At least, that was Grace's theory. Even after the last few months together, he still couldn't understand what exactly happened. He isn’t sure what to believe—the scientist in him tells him that something like this is virtually impossible, and yet, Simon is the living proof that it is.
Currently, with both of his companions asleep, Grace is sitting in the lab. They deployed the centrifuge not long ago since he wanted to check up on the Taumoeba farms to make sure everything was going well. And it is. There haven’t been any more complications with it since the leak incident. The predator was ready to be used as soon as they reach Erid.
It’s the journey itself that worries Grace the most.
The thought of going through all of this, only to die of starvation on their way to Rocky’s home world, is terrifying. Grace was aware of such an outcome when he came back for his best friend. He thought back then that that was it. But when Rocky reminded him of the possibility to create food from Taumoeba, his hope returned.
But that was before Simon.
Now, with two of them on board, the food problem appeared once again. No matter how he tries to think about it, the result is still the same. There just isn’t enough. The regular, dehydrated food, the coma slurry, the IV fluids—they’ll all run out before the Hail Mary reaches Erid. They’d still have the Taumoeba, but that won’t be enough to sustain two grown men for the remaining journey. Not to mention the possibility of staying aboard until the Eridians figure out how to make their atmosphere survivable for humans.
If that’s even possible.
Grace sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. His glasses slip from his ear and fall on the table. He doesn’t regret saving Simon—he doesn’t think he ever will. He’s made peace with never seeing another human ever again, but that didn’t change the fact that the thought came to him with a heavy heart.
Rocky is a great company. Grace knows he probably wouldn’t even be here if it weren't for his best friend. He’s saved Grace in every way possible, and he’ll always be grateful for that.
But to his stupid, human brain, that presence isn’t enough.
When Simon came aboard, it was as if a whole new perspective had opened. There was another human. A person, made of flesh and blood, just like Grace himself. Someone who spoke his language, who understood his emotions and moods. Someone Grace could touch without the risk of hurting either one of them.
So, no, Grace does not regret saving Simon. But with doing so came another, even bigger fear.
He needed to make sure all three of them survived this journey.
Still frustrated, Grace reaches for his fallen glasses. He puts them on, instinctively glancing at the monitor he set up to keep an eye on the dormitory while he’s working in the lab. It’s the middle of the night cycle, so there was still some time before Rocky and Simon would wake up.
Except that, when he looks at the camera feed, Simon’s bed is empty.
Grace looks around, as if trying to see if Simon sneaked up on him while he was deep in thoughts. But there is no sign of the other man anywhere in the lab. Unsettled but not yet alarmed, Grace gets up.
“Simon?” he calls loud enough to be heard in the nearby rooms. There is no answer.
It’s not the first time Simon wakes up in the middle of the night. While the man isn’t exactly forthcoming about this subject, from what Grace could gather, whatever had happened when he was down in that submarine traumatised him deeply. With time, Simon’s mental state improved, but the nightmares of the blood ocean and the claustrophobic interior of the SM-13 still haunt him sometimes.
It would seem that today is one of those days.
With another, softer sigh, Grace exits the lab. He steps into the central hub, where the window behind him provides enough light to see around the mostly dimmed hallway. There, on the other side of the corridor, in front of the other window, he sees a familiar silhouette.
Grace’s shoulders drop in relief.
“Simon,” he calls out again, slowly advancing towards the other man. Simon is curled up next to the window, his knees pressed to his chest. His face is turned to the view outside and partially obscured by his long hair. He has one of Grace's zip-up hoodies on, unzipped, his left sleeve hanging limply by his side. Grace cannot see his expression, but tension in Simon’s shoulders speaks for itself. He stops at the entrance to the view point. “Another nightmare?”
An absent nod is all he gets in return.
Grace shuffles awkwardly. He doesn’t want to make the situation even worse than it already is, but, at the same time, he’d never leave Simon struggling.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, his tone as soft and nonthreatening as possible.
Simon shakes his head in denial.
Alright, that’s not too surprising.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Grace adds, stepping closer at the same time.
That gets him an angry scoff in return.
“Help?” Simon repeats, with poison creeping into his words. “Yeah, I bet you’d want to.” With that, he gets up, pushing past him, and leaves.
Taken aback by the unfriendly tone, it takes Ryland a few seconds before he scrambles behind him.
“Simon, wait!” He follows the man back to the lab. Seeing that it’s a dead end, Simon groans and turns to Grace, who, without a hitch, continues, “I know it’s hard to admit that you need help, but there is nothing wrong with needing it. Rocky and I–”
“How gracious of you,” Simon interrupts him, exasperated. “I have the saviour of not one but two planets ready to bend backwards for me if necessary. Because that’s just how you are, Grace, isn’t it? So kind and selfless, with a heart of gold.”
The more Simon talks, the less Grace understands. He just wants to help. What’s so wrong with that?
Still, he doesn't relent. He takes another step closer, arms up, so that Simon can see them. A pleading expression on his face, making sure that the other doesn't feel cornered.
“Maybe if you’d talk to me,” Ryland says, well aware of the desperation slipping into his words. He wants to help. He wants to understand. “I know it's hard but–”
“You know it's hard? You?” Simon repeats incredulously. A dry laugh escapes his lips, void of any humour. “You, with your well-equipped and advanced beyond anything I’ve ever seen ship. With your laptops and entertainment. With your stocked food and unlimited water.” He take s a step towards Ryland, his expression tense. The look in his eyes almost makes Ryland want to take a step back. He stands his ground, as Simon's voice gets louder with every word, “As if you could ever know how hard it is. As if you could ever understand what I’ve been through!”
Grace gasps softly.
Oh. Of course.
“Simon…” he says, reaching for the other, but Simon flinches back immediately. Ryland tries to ignore the sting he feels in his chest.
“What ‘Simon’?” the man says, his voice full of spite. He looks at Ryland, eyes cold, his hand clenched into a fist. He's shaking, Ryland remarks, but he can't tell if it's anger or fear he can see building up in his icy gaze that’s causing it. “Saving Earth, becoming the hero—who wouldn’t want that? I bet there were lines of people willing to throw themselves into this mission. But of course, you would’ve been the one.” Simon laughs dryly, then more to himself adds, “They’d probably send you away with a fucking parade in tow.”
It’s at that moment that it finally clicks. The exact reason for Simon’s reaction. It’s so surreal that Ryland has to pause for a second to gather his thoughts.
No. There is no way Simon would think–
“Wait,” he says eventually, still disbelieving. “You think I wanted this?”
Simon scoffs, as if the answer were obvious. “Why wouldn’t you? Being the smartest person in the room clearly wasn't enough. That fucking hero complex of yours wouldn’t have allowed you to just leave it.”
With the way he’s looking at Grace, there is no mistaking it. The weight of Simon’s gaze feels physically heavy on him. The flurry of emotions swirling in his mismatched eyes—the anger, the frustration, the desperation and, most of all, the pain.
The pain of betrayal. Of never having a choice.
And the knowledge that your life doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.
Ryland’s chest tightens.
“You think I wanted this," he says as a statement, the words almost chocking him.
“Isn’t that who you are?” Simon prods, his expression contorted by anger rather than vulnerability. They are long past that. “You try to fix everything and everyone around you, not realising that maybe some of us are beyond saving. Maybe some of us didn't want to be heroes. That some of us didn’t get to make that choice!”
Ryland can hear Simon’s voice breaking, with both, anger and raw pain. Subconsciously, he knows that Simon is just lashing out because of whatever night terror came to haunt him in his sleeping hours and that in the normal circumstances he’d never say something like this.
But the psyche is a finicky thing. Especially for someone like Simon.
And, to both of their misfortunes, especially for someone like Ryland.
Ryland’s chest squeezes, as if there were physical pressure there, gradually making it hard for his lungs to expand. He knows this feeling, knows what’s coming with it—a panic attack is far from being something new to him. But instead of relief that comes with knowing, the coldness of fear slowly creeps into his mind, his sight blurring with tears gathering at the edges of his vision.
Simon is still taking, but Grace is far too deep to understand what he’s saying. The only thing he can hear is his own shuddered breaths.
Soon, he realises that the pressure on his chest is too great. There is no way for his lugs to expand anymore. He’s going to suffocate and die, just like when–
Ryland’s knees buckle beneath him.
His breathing is still loud in his ears, but he thinks he can hear something else that sounds suspiciously like someone calling his name. He can’t be sure, because as soon as he hits the floor, there are hands grabbing him, tackling him, forcing him into the grass and dirt beneath him. His tears blur his vision, but he can still make out the sun setting in the distance, the ironic rainbow over his head, as he feels a knee dig into his back.
No, this isn’t right. He was on board Hail Mary; why is he…
But the ground beneath his fingers feels so real as he digs into it desperately. One of his arms is already being twisted behind him, so harshly that Ryland thinks his shoulder is going to pop out of the socket. There is a voice still saying something, but he’s well beyond capacity to understand what it is that it’s saying. All Ryland can think about is the desperate plea to get out.
‘Don’t do it!’
‘You are murdering me!’
‘Please, don’t do it! Don’t do it.’
‘Don’t send me to die!’
‘I DON’T WANT TO DIE!’
He can’t even tell if he’s actually saying those things out loud or if all that’s coming out of his mouth are pathetic cries and whimpers as his fingers dig deeper into the soil. He knows what comes next. The sting of the needle at the back of his neck, the slow loss of consciousness, knowing that he never chose this, that this was never what was supposed to happen and that the next time he wakes up, it’ll be with the knowledge that he was sent to die by the people he trusted.
Instead, there is a strong arm that wraps around his own forearm. Ryland tries to get away, to wrestle his arm back, but the hold is too strong. He squirms, trashing around, his eyes clenched shut, desperate pleas spilling from his mouth. They’ll send him to die; he’ll never see Earth again, or his kids, or anyone else. He’s going to die in space, alone and forgotten and–
“Ryland!”
The voice is like a bucket of ice-cold water. It’s surprising to the point that Ryland gasps, his lungs screaming in protest, and opens his eyes. It takes a moment for his gaze to get used to the sudden change, but when it does, Ryland cannot comprehend what he’s seeing.
There is no sky. No sunsets. No rainbow. He isn’t lying face down on the ground but sitting on the familiar, cold floor of the lab aboard the Hail Mary. His chest is heaving with every breath he takes, and there are tears streaming down his face. There is pressure not only on his chest but on his right arm as well. Someone is holding him, firmly but not aggressively. It’s more of a grounding touch than anything. His eyes slowly drift up from the floor to his arm and to the one that’s still holding him, only to finally settle on the man in front of him, whose expression is one of pure terror.
He knows this man. The long, curly hair; the dark eyes; the scars littering his face. The man is looking at him, the fear in his deep eyes so clear that it makes Ryland wonder if he’s the cause of the man’s distress.
“Ryland,” the man—Simon, his brain supplies—repeats, his voice shaking. Actually, now that Ryland can see better, he realises that Simon's whole body is shaking.
Ryland tries to say something, but his throat is closed off, only a mere whimper making it past his lips. Why can’t he say anything?
What's going on?
He remembers seeing that Simon wasn’t in his bed; he went to search for him. Then, he found him by the window, and, that’s right, Simon had a nightmare; that wasn’t unusual. Both of them had them quite often. Ryland remembers them talking, but something wasn’t right. He only wanted to help, and then Simon said something that–
Ryland’s entire body freezes as the memory comes back to him. Another whimper escapes his lips, and he can feel his body recoil from Simon’s touch involuntarily. His breath speeds up again.
No, he couldn’t. Not again–
He flinches away from Simon, tearing his arm away from his touch. Clumsily, he scuttles back until his back hits a wall. He pulls his knees to his chest, hiding his face and gripping his hair to the point where it hurts.
Pain is good. It’s grounding. It means this is reality.
“Ryland, it’s okay,” he hears Simon say, but it’s not. Ryland knows it’s not. He’s going to get caught again; they are going to hold him down and sedate him, and then– “Ryland.”
Simon’s voice is firm and pleading, but Ryland shakes his head. No, it's not safe yet.
“Ryland, it’s me,” Simon says, and even without looking up, Ryland knows that he’s now sitting right in front of him. Not touching, just… sitting close enough for him to feel the warmth radiating from the other man. “You are safe. No one is sending you anywhere. It’s just you, me and Rocky here. You are safe.”
Maybe it’s the tone or the certainty in Simon’s voice, but Ryland believes him. The thought hits him so hard, making him gasp, as the air escapes his lungs. The gasp turns into a sob, followed by another, and soon, Ryland is crying hysterically, tears making it hard to see.
He’s not on Earth anymore. There is no Stratt, no Carl, no doctors, no soldiers. He is not going to die. He’s here, on the Hail Mary, en route to Erid with his best friend and the man he now considers someone more.
He’s going to live.
The thought makes him sob even harder.
Ryland can hear Simon say something but cannot make the words out. It doesn’t matter. He can feel Simon’s presence. He takes a shaky inhale as something other than sobs finally tumble from his lips.
“I just– I just wan– wanted to–” Another wave of heavy sobs breaks him off.
There is a pause, Ryland’s whimpers filling the silence in the room. He can hear Simon inhale sharply before he speaks, this time loud enough for Ryland to hear.
“You just wanted to live.”
Ryland’s body shakes with another wracking sob. He finally raises his head, looking at Simon, though he can’t see much with the tears which don’t seem to want to stop.
“Is that so wrong?” he chokes on the words, falling into yet another sobbing fit.
Why doesn’t anybody else want that?
This time, when Simon wraps his arm around him, Ryland doesn’t protest.