Chapter Text
Stratt leaned against the railing on the top deck of the Vat, staring out at the expanse of ocean, the sea of stars that melted into it. It was a rare sight to see a sky like this — she’d always lived in towns, cities, and even nights spent away from those lights were never far enough away to show her… this. The broad stripe of stars that split the sky, glowing faintly with what she knew was dust and gas of the arm of the Milky Way. If that wasn’t enough, the arm was surrounded by more stars than she had ever seen in the night sky, and so bright that even on a night with no moon, she could see well enough that she didn’t need any additional light to guide her way.
This was her favorite view on the Vat, had been since she had first seen it over four years ago now, and tears had run silently down her cheeks at the sight. She would miss it in the coming months, and wondered if she’d ever see the sky like this again.
She wondered too, if this was anything like the sky generations past would have seen, before the Industrial Revolution. If she looked out now and saw anything close to what the ancients saw, what the peoples she had studied had looked up at and prayed to. If, by looking out on the sky now, she was connected to them in any way — if she could draw upon their experiences, to guide her through the coming years.
She sighed, the thought of the coming years making the ice pick in her skull sharpen, lengthen, pain shooting down the back of her neck. Thoughts of food shortages and famine, pestilence, wars, and death were never far from her mind when she got a quiet moment alone, especially the closer the launch loomed. The four horsemen of the apocalypse — Hell truly was coming to them. But what grace did she deserve, pawning human suffering off onto biblical figures, when she alone wrought their destruction for them? For the greater good, yes, for the hope to extend their existence out long enough for the Hail Mary to find a solution. But what did it mean for the suffering now?
Nothing, it meant nothing. It was a necessary evil, and she did what had to be done. But there was still a toll to be paid, in the weight of her soul.
“Incredible.”
An astonished voice sounded behind her, breaking her from her thoughts, and she turned to see Grace standing a few steps behind her, his neck craned back to look at the stars. “Doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen this, it never gets old.”
Stratt couldn’t help but smile softly at his amazement — hadn’t she just been thinking the same thing? “It is spectacular.”
He walked up to stand beside her, nudging her elbow gently with his. “I found you.”
She glanced at him, raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know I was being looked for.”
“I’m always looking for you.”
She smiled lightly, leaning back to look at him more fully. His smile matched hers, small and soft, exhaustion edging the corners of it, with new lines of strain carving his face — it had been a hard few weeks.
Silently, they both turned back to the stars, to the dizzying reflection of the sky in the sea, making the world seem like a bubble, surrounding them in inky velvet pricked with pearls. A peaceful place, quiet but for the thrum of the engines, a sound more comforting in its familiarity. But for all the peace of the moment, her mind couldn’t find it — instead it murmured harsh things, of horrors and calamities unknown, unpredictable to anyone but the gods, and yet her mind whispered that she should have predicted them, should have done better, should have done more.
They were doing everything they could — still, why didn’t it feel like enough?
A breeze tugged at her hair, seeming to bite through her turtleneck, and she shivered lightly, pressing closer to his warmth.
Ryland glanced down at her, feeling her shiver and shift. “You cold?”
Automatically he began tugging off his cardigan, his beloved one with foxes, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm, then softly tugged on it, maneuvering him until he wrapped his arms around her, his chest against her back. He chuckled lightly, then shifted them until he’d wrapped the ends of the cardigan around her too, held her tight around her chest like he kept her anchored there, kept her from floating away on the breeze.
Maybe he did. She felt as though she was intangible enough that the wind could pick her up, scatter her to the corners of the Earth. Picked thin by decision after decision, orders that would fundamentally change the world as they knew it, brought down by her hand and carried out by her word alone. Threadbare, crumbling, she thought she was becoming a statue, with hairline fractures laced all along her seams so that just one strike in the right spot would break her into thousands of sharp, jagged pieces, irrevocably broken and never to be the same. Never to be human again, but a figurehead — a symbol.
Ryland squeezed her tighter, pressing his lips against her temple, before he started up a soft hum, a song she didn’t know but comforting nonetheless, the vibrations from his throat shivering through her, echoing across her skin in waves that rippled, grew, until her whole body seemed to hum with resonance.
She forced herself to take a slow, deep breath in, then let it out in a rush, expelling what thoughts she could, let them go on the breeze, and focused instead on the throb of her migraine, used it to try and empty her mind of those kinds of thoughts. They, she reasoned, were artifacts of stressful, sleepless nights and too much caffeine, despite Ryland’s best efforts. Hell, he’d been right there with her on many of those nights recently, downing just as much caffeine as she did. Too much still to do, and a ticking clock that wouldn't halt for anyone.
She let out another breath, let go of more thoughts. She was alive. She was human. She was warm again, his arms and cardigan around her, and she was loved. Not a statue, not just a symbol, and not alone. She repeated it like a mantra, like the more she repeated it, the more she could believe.
“So,” he murmured behind her, his fingers curling softly against her ribs. “We move to Baikonur soon.”
She nodded, her head brushing against his chin. “We do. They’ve completed the modifications to their facility to accommodate safe astrophage handling. They’ll be the world’s leading research center dedicated to it, once all this is over. And once the launch of the Hail Mary’s fuel is complete…”
She trailed off, feeling stress tighten both of them. Two million kilograms of the most energy rich substance known to man had to be launched into orbit, to fuel the now completed tanks of the Hail Mary. They’d need to complete over fifteen launches dedicated only to astrophage fuel slurry. One mistake, and… well, she hadn’t particularly liked the meeting where she’d been presented with what would happen in their atmosphere if a mistake did occur.
Eva took a harsh breath, making another effort to shed the tension that had built back up in her body. “Well, once it’s over, then there won’t be a reason for us to stay here.” Assuming Baikonur wasn’t blown off the face of the Earth. “There’s still nearly two months of work to complete on the Hail Mary before it can be sent off. It’s more efficient for all of us to move there.
He knew all that, of course, had been present when each one of those decisions had been made — had helped her make some of them. Still, she repeated all of it to him, finding it soothing to lay out the logic of each step, reaffirm to herself they had made the best possible plan. Perhaps he knew that, she thought — he’d asked her a few times about Baikonur in the last few days, had just listened quietly while she ran through it again and again. She didn’t put it past him to use it as a tactic to comfort her, pull out of her mind when she got stuck here, not when it tended to work like a charm.
He let out a huff of laughter, pulling her back to the present, and pressed his nose into her hair. “Would you believe me if I said I’d miss the fighter jet rides?”
That made the corners of her lips twitch. “No.”
“Ah, well.” She felt him smile against her scalp. “You know me too well for me to pull off that one.”
“It’s not even about knowing you,” she countered softly, and nudged him with an elbow. “I’ve just seen you vomit after too many of those to believe you.”
“Alright, yeah. Thank goodness for traffic cones.”
That pulled a small laugh out of her throat, almost painful, but the feeling of it seemed to dislodge some of the melancholy in her chest, lightening her heart in a way she hadn’t been able to do on her own.
Eva took another breath, slower this time, felt the throbbing of her head slow a little as she did. Human. Living. Warm. Loved. Keep repeating, and it would be true.
“Your thoughts are loud,” he murmured behind her, and she quirked a corner of her mouth.
“Didn’t know you could read minds.”
His lips curved against her temple. “Ate some radioactive astrophage, gained the ability.”
She twisted to look at him, and he just laughed quietly, squeezed her tighter. “Sorry, not my best work.” He flashed a quick grin. “I only ate some regular astrophage and gained it.”
That did pull another chuckle out of her as she elbowed him again, making him laugh harder. “Don't joke about that. I know how you keep your lab space.”
“Eva, I'm not eating astrophage, jeez. I do have a doctorate.”
She just hummed, smiling softly, feeling a foolish sort of pleasure that he claimed his title, so different from all those years ago when he’d run from it. Leaning her head back against his shoulder, her smile stayed on her lips when he pressed a kiss to her cheek.
“I heard you got into it with Dr. Lokken again today,” she mentioned, and felt his lips twitch against her skin.
“She did start it, bringing up her insane independent evolution theory again,” he protested, then pressed his cheek against hers. “But yeah. Sorry. We were… loud.”
“It never comes to blows, at least,” Eva said, and gave a small shrug. “And you both tend to be more productive after a spat.”
He huffed out a breath, digging his fingers into her waist until she squirmed, giggled, and he let out a triumphant sort of sound at her noise. “Is that how you categorize every altercation, whether it’s productive or not?”
She shrugged again. “I don’t waste energy where it’s not needed. You don’t physically harm each other, and you make up the time lost during your pissing matches in your productivity afterwards. Therefore.”
He snorted, nuzzled along the curve of her cheek. “I love how your brain works,” he sighed, dreamy, amused, and she tilted her head to look at him again.
“It’s not worthy of that sort of awe.”
He picked up his head so he could meet her gaze. His lips quirked up, soft and slow, and he shook his head, his expression looking almost puzzled. “But it is, Eva. You are.”
Faith, such faith in her that it stole her breath. That a man so good he shone like the sun, believed such a thing of her. It felt like a dream — unreal, fantastical. How had she, harsh and severe, a being turned to cracked stone, earned such a light in her life?
Human, she repeated to herself again, warm, alive, human, and loved.
Need overwhelmed her, a need to be closer. She turned in his arms, feeling foolishly pleased when they stayed wrapped around her, and in the dim light of the blanket of stars above, she thought him one of the most beautiful sights she’d ever seen.
“You're beautiful, Eva,” he whispered, reverent. “Out here in the stars.”
Using a finger, he tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, then let it trail down to the edge of her turtleneck. The touch made her shiver, lean in, and she blinked at him slowly. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
He sent her a crooked grin, flashing bright. “That you’re beautiful?”
She rolled her eyes, reaching up to lightly flick his chin. “Don’t be obtuse.”
“Aye aye, captain.”
She smiled, that kind of smile that she was powerless to resist around him, the kind he could pull out of her so effortlessly with just a few quips and a smile of his own. The kind that always made any knot in her chest loosen a little, made it easier to eat, to sleep, to breathe. Made her love him more, each time he drew one from her, even when she felt her worst.
That levity fluttering delicately in her heart, she smoothed her hands over his chest, tilted her chin up towards him. “Kiss me,” she whispered, and he grinned.
“Gladly.”
Under the stars, he kissed her softly, his lips warm on hers, a comfort more than passion. They lingered there together, trading breaths and gentle presses of lips, until he slowly pulled away, his eyes fluttering open. He blinked at her, eyes tracing the contours of her features, when then his brow furrowed and his mouth turned down as he reached to smooth his thumb between her eyebrows. “You’re in pain. Why didn’t you say anything?”
She shrugged, shaking her head, and patted her hands comfortingly on his chest. “I was having too nice a time to bring my migraine into the mix.”
He smiled at her, sweet, and rubbed his thumb more firmly over the center of her brow, massaging. “I’ll choose to believe that’s your only reason. Come on, no more work tonight — let’s just crawl into bed, and you can choose your route of migraine relief.”
That made her smile, nod, but before he could pull her towards the stairs, she captured his mouth with hers again, sliding her tongue lightly along the seam of his lips. He made a soft noise that she gladly swallowed as he opened his mouth to her, hands sliding along her back to her waist, finding a purchase there, familiar and known.
He tasted like candy and too sweet tea, a blend so distinctly him that she slid her hands to his jaw, dug her fingers in to the back of his neck to hold him to her, pull him closer, taste him deeper and stronger like she could devour, consume, use the warmth of his mouth to pry the rest of the melancholy from her chest.
He responded in kind, his tongue pushing hard against hers, his breath a warm, desperate exhale on her cheek, and she realized vaguely that he might need this, too. That glow of connection, the affection and comfort of someone under your hands, warm and wanting that chased away the dark and cold of the end of the world.
Not the end, she thought fiercely, and reached up on her toes to kiss him deeper, sliding an arm to hook around his neck. Never the end.
He made a soft noise, nipping at her lip, and he slung an arm low around her hips, nearly hauling her off her feet as he pulled her closer, his hands digging into her skin, gripping her, each finger tip an aching point of contact that made her feel real, alive, and she pressed into his hold to feel him, could burrow in his chest and—
“Oh—sorry.”
They jumped apart, startled, and Eva pressed the back of her hand to kiss-wetted lips before she met Shapiro’s eyes, standing at the top of the stairs with DuBois.
Shapiro grinned and held up a hand in apology. “Didn’t realize this spot was taken.” Winking at Stratt, Grace had never turned to face them, she turned and pulled DuBois with her back down the stairs. “Have fun.”
The wind carried Shapiro’s murmured voice up to Eva’s ears, “Ilyukhina’s gonna be so pissed she missed that.”
Eva stared as the two made their way out of sight — flicked her eyes back to Ryland, and found him red faced and grinning, his shoulders shaking with a silent laughter.
The sight pulled her own bark of laughter from her throat. She quickly muffled it, pressing her lips together, but the sound only made Ryland laugh harder, and soon he was wheezing, reaching for her as they wrapped around each other again.
“You always say it’s good to feed the rumor mill,” he managed, his head pressed to hers, and she snorted into his shoulder.
“Hard to call it a rumor mill, now,” she replied, and laughed again, wrapping her arms around his chest. “It’s just a gossip mill.”
“And scientists are the worst gossips,” he chuckled, the sound turning into a groan. “Oh, Ilyukhina’s not going to leave me alone tomorrow.”
Eva grinned and burrowed further into his shoulder, picturing the scene already. “Just tell her to get back to work.”
“Yeah, like that’ll work on her.”
“Softie,” she teased, and he laughed, traced his fingers down her spine.
“You love it.”
“I do,” she whispered, and turned her head to look up at him, suddenly overwhelmed with the wave of emotion that crashed through her heart, made her throat seize and her belly flutter. “I love everything about you.”
His breath hitched gently in his throat, and he smiled as he tenderly cupped her cheek. “Careful about that. I’ll tell more bad jokes.”
She huffed out a laugh, let herself be pulled towards the stairs, back towards their room. “There’s enough of them, I don’t think I’d notice a few more.”
Down the stairs and through the halls they walked, trading small touches, reluctant to be far away. When they reached the hallway of the crew quarters, upon seeing it empty, Ryland reached for her hand, tangling their fingers together as he led them to their door, unlocking it and coaxing her inside. He turned on the lights while Eva toed off her shoes, then he pushed her gently towards the bathroom. “You go first. I’ll massage you, after.”
She made quick work in the bathroom, brushing her teeth first, then washing her face. As the last of her concealer washed away, she glanced up at the mirror and saw that the bruises under her eyes she’d hidden that morning had only worsened, turning from dark blues to a deep purple, nearly black with exhaustion. Can’t be stone if I still bruise like that, she thought to herself as she dried her face, chuckling wryly. You talk to yourself, too. Stone doesn’t do that, either.
Wallowing in the throb of her skull for a moment, she pushed the towel harder against her eyes, rubbing them when they wanted to water. She counted the painful beats for a long minute, the rhythm almost soothing, before she forced herself to take a deep breath, setting aside the towel and opening the door.
He looked up from his seat on the bed when she opened the door, and the look on his face told her the bruises under her eyes might look worse than she thought. Standing, he crossed to her, gently taking her face in between his hands. Leaning in, he pressed a gentle kiss to one bruise, then the other, then placed one in between her brows, lingering.
“You’re working yourself to the bone, honey,” he whispered, and she nodded once.
“I know. It will be done soon.”
He nodded, brushing his nose across her brow. “I still worry.”
She smiled faintly, brought her hands up to cover his, still cupping her cheeks. “I know that too. I’m sorry.”
He shook his head, pulled back just enough to look her in the eye. “Don’t apologize for trying to save the world. Just…” he smiled faintly then, shrugged once. “Well, just remember that someone wants you alive and whole at the end of it.”
She nodded, leaned in and laid a soft kiss on his lips. Leaned her forehead against his, let her eyes close. Felt the throb of her skull like the strike of a clock, and her eyes sting with sudden tears. “Will there ever be an end to it?” she whispered, voice raw, overwhelmed, famine, wars, death, and she held her breath against a sob that wanted to come.
He sighed, long and slow, stroked his thumbs against her cheeks. “I don’t know. Maybe not. But… I love you, baby. I think we can find a life in there, too.”
She managed another smile, took a slow, deep breath, then nodded again. He kissed her, soft, then carefully turned her towards the bed. “Change, then lay down on your belly. I’ll be out in a couple minutes.”
She did as told, burying her face in a pillow against the light. She tried to will her body to relax, counting her breaths, but the sharp ache that ran down the back of her neck kept her wound tight, throbbing down into her shoulders. The tears that had built before stung her eyes again, and she squeezed them tight trying to banish them. Her heart ached, melancholy growing around it again like thorns, and she felt like the only thing that was truly keeping it away was Ryland, his touch on her skin, his laugh, his smile, and she had a desperate, clawing thought to go to him now, like she’d break apart in another minute if—
The bathroom door opened, and she forced out a slow breath to calm her heart. Turning her head to look at him, he smiled down at her as he crawled up on the bed, maneuvering to straddle her hips before he ran his fingers comfortingly through her hair.
“Your hair’s so red in the lamplight,” he murmured, and his fingers along her scalp made her shiver. “Looks like a penny — pretty.”
She smiled, taking a deeper breath as the bands around her chest loosened. “I used to dye it blonde,” she murmured, and he let out a gleeful laugh behind her.
“You owe me pictures of that now,” he said, and she smelled when he opened the bottle of peppermint oil on his bedside table, dabbing it on his fingers. “I’ll be following up weekly for those.”
She snorted, sighed when he began to massage the oil onto her temples. “Most of those photos will be in storage in Germany.”
“Certainly you can have someone fly them here,” he teased, his fingers drawing the oil down behind her ears, rubbing slow circles on the point just on the skull. “For me?”
“Hard to justify how that’s project related,” she murmured, her eyes drifting closed from his touch, and he hummed.
“To help the productivity of the leading expert in astrophage biology?”
She hummed, couldn’t come up with a retort as he moved on to her neck, massaging the oil in there. The oil sufficiently absorbed, he then ran his thumbs up the muscles of her neck to the base of her skull, rolling them in strong, slow circles. She let out a low moan, sinking deeper into the pillows, and he let out a pleased hum above her.
“There you go, baby,” he murmured. “Relax.”
She drifted as he massaged, allowing her breathing to slow, feeling the ice pick in her skull shrink and ease until it was just a dull ache and the thorns in her chest had retreated again. There she floated, and there she let all of the masks fall away, every shield and barrier she placed as the Director, as leader, and let herself just be Eva. Eva, who loved a good man, who, outshining even her wildest dreams, loved her back so strongly it stole her breath.
Slowly, Ryland pushed up the edge of her shirt, bunching it under her arms, and then she smelled the lavender and eucalyptus of the lotion he kept on his side. A moment later, his hands smoothed down her back, strong and firm as his fingers dug into the long columns of muscles, sought out knots and slowly worked them.
She dreamed of an ordinary life as he massaged the cluster of knots that always built around her shoulder blades. Perhaps the massage was an anniversary present from him — or maybe it was just something he offered when she had a hard day at work, when the hard days meant petty squabbles and tight deadlines that meant nothing in the grand scheme.
“Your thoughts are loud again,” he murmured, slowly rolling his thumbs along each vertebrae. “What are you thinking?”
She turned her head, but kept her eyes closed as she murmured back. “I was thinking of an ordinary life, for us. Anniversaries and normal work drama.”
He hummed, sliding his hands over her waist, slowly massaging the obliques in firm strokes. “Sounds nice. Though ordinary’s overrated,” he quipped, and she smiled. “Can’t do much about work drama, but I can give you ordinary anniversaries. Dinner, flowers, a bottle of wine and good sex.”
Eva smiled again, imagining. Sent up a desperate prayer, Please, God, let it be true.
Then she took a deep breath, and let herself drift once again.
She barely noticed when he gently tugged her shirt back down, stood and turned out the lights. But she did curl into him when he laid down next to her, sought out his warmth, the sound of his heartbeat under her ear, a constant comfort, a reminder of the life that burned within them both.
Warm. Human. Alive, she let it whisper to her.
And loved.