Chapter Text
Ryland Grace was used to space, or so he’d like to believe. That was, until, a blood moon. A mutated man covered in coagulated, thick crimson blood, pulled out of a rusty iron submarine that seemingly had no way out. The first few weeks were very touch-and-go. The stranger babbled about blood and eels, switching from unadulterated rage to sorrow and fear. Sobbing through strange prayers, begging for his life. It took nearly three weeks for him to fully wake. All the while, his body shifted. Teeth grew from the side of his face, giving him a distinct bifocal jaw. A row of gills met his neck. Hundreds of scars seemed to litter his body, alongside scales. Worst of all, it looked like something had ripped his arm off. Marred skin riddled with more teeth, shifting under angry pink scars. It was horrifying and putrid yet so very fascinating.
Grace was sure he’d never forget the moment the other man truly awoke. He had made a habit of watching him sleep - something about the slow rise and fall of his chest assured something deep within the scientist. Despite everything, he was alive. Ryland Grace would no longer be the only human on the Hail Mary.
He had been lost in thought, staring into nothing. Rocky was on the other side of their ship, working on some project. The first week, he had urged Grace to leave him. Get some rest. But he was too anxious, worried the moment he turned around the stranger would be dead. He would be the only human once more. Eventually, Rocky relented. Only coming in to force Grace to eat, and to watch the both of them sleep. Grace had gotten into the habit of talking to him. About anything. The reason he was here. The tiny human things Rocky had found so confusing, disgusting even. Something that made him laugh. How much he dearly missed Earth. Oftentimes, it was him begging his stranger to wake up. To live.
“…Angel?” The course, raspy voice made Grace jump. He looked down, his heart leaping in his chest as the stranger’s eyes were open, tinged with a much stronger awareness than before. One, a dark brown. The other much more fish-like, reflecting strangely against the bright lights of the medical bay. “Am I — dead?” His voice was horridly raw. “
“Nonono— you aren’t dead. You’re very much alive-“ Grace breathily spoke. “You’re alive,”
The stranger blinked slowly, looking around. “I can’t be. I can’t -“ he let out an almost hysterical laugh, which immediately turned into a loud sob. “It’s not real - I can’t - I-“ He brought up his remaining arm to cover his eyes, the stump twitching, as if it had meant to move as well.
Grace wasn’t expecting this kind of reaction. He tentatively reached out, placing a hand on the stranger’s shoulder. He immediately flinched, his face screwing up into a deep snarl. The bifocal jaw gnashed wildly as he nearly jumped out of his skin, twisting around to try to push Grace away. “Sorry – sorry - I’m sorry. Just,” The man broke out into a mangled sob. “I didn’t want to die.” Grace’s throat felt tight, tears burning at his eyes. It took everything to keep his composure, fighting to keep his voice as soothing as possible - as if he was talking to one of his students. His stranger had fallen asleep soon after.
The next time he woke up, Grace was standing up. A bandaged hand reached out, snatching Grace’s wrist. “Don’t leave me, angel,”
“I - I’m not an angel,” He sat back in the chair. “My name is Ryland Grace, I’m human. Just like you, I think,”
The man simply shook his head, black curls falling into his face. “You can’t be. Only - only way I’d be saved is…is if I had died,” His lip wavered, a tear falling down his scarred face.
“I don’t know what happened to you, or where you came from,” Grace began. He took the man’s hand in his own, trying to ignore the burning sensation clinging to his skin. It wasn’t the right time to think about himself, the fact that this was the first human touch he had in so so long. He shook his head, trying to manually toss his train of thought out the metaphorical window. “But you’re alive, me and my friend Rocky, we found your ship on our way to a planet called Erid,”
At the mention of that ship, the clump of bandages and battered fingers began trembling. “It wasn’t my ship. It was my death. They sent me to die. To - to drown in that fucking blood ocean,”
It had taken hours to somewhat calm him down. Another day to convince him he wasn’t dead. Two days after that, Grace learned his name - Simon.
It was four months of having Simon on the ship. He refused to talk about where he came from. Why he was down in a submarine without a door, stuck in an ocean full of human blood. Why he believed all the stars were dead, that Earth was dead, that there weren't any plants left. His nightmares said enough, however. His sleeping patterns were abysmal - he couldn’t go more than a few hours without waking up screaming. Gasping for air, clawing at his throat. Coughing and retching, unable to go back to sleep until his body physically gave out on him. As uncertain as he had been about Rocky at first, Grace thought he might have found some comfort in something watching him sleep. Over time, Grace discovered a lot of information on Simon. He detested being alone. When he was alone, he immediately began filling the space with sound. Talking to himself, drumming his fingers against something, humming. He had to ask permission to touch anything. He absolutely adored plants, trees especially. When he wasn’t with Grace, hovering over his shoulder and watching the scientist work on the taumoeba, he was in the ‘Dont go Crazy Room’, circulating through pictures of Earth. He refused to eat a full portion, yet guarded his food. Almost like he expected somebody to try to steal it from him.
It was also evident that the mutations were new. It wasn’t uncommon to catch Simon scowling at his reflection, clutching at the marred skin. A mixture of hatred, fear, and pure grief plastered over his face. Grace really didn’t want to press - the man had gone through hell and back, he didn’t want to subject him to a microscope. Yet he ached to get closer, to see how the mutations worked.
“Grace staring at Simon again, statement,” Rocky, very unhelpfully, broke his train of thought. Grace sputtered, shaking his head.
“I’m not staring, Rocky! I was just – spacing out,” Simon worried his lip, looking back down at his research. Glancing back up to see if Simon had overheard. If he had, that didn’t stop him from continuing his own work; Simon had become obsessed with the mechanics of the ship, fixing everything he could. Which was great, considering Grace was a man of science himself. Hardly knew how to change his tires, really. Simon paused, scratching at the gills on the side of his neck. He had been doing that every few minutes, grimacing.
“Simon, are your gills bothering you?” Grace couldn’t help himself.
“So you were staring then, angel?” Simon huffed, not taking his eyes away from what he was working on. The nickname had stuck, no matter how many times Grace attempted to brush it off. He hated how it turned his stomach upside down every time.
“Affirmative, statement,”
“Shush! I just…happened to notice. Would you, um. Like me to look at them? If they’re bothering you,” Grace was aware his face was burning, the very familiar feeling of embarrassment creeping up to his ears.
“It’s fine,” Simon deflected, setting his tools down. He rolled his shoulders, his face betraying his discomfort. “I doubt you’d be able to help, anyway,” He muttered.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t try. How long have they been bothering you?” Grace stood up from his chair, making it over to the other side of the room. The other man looked away, shrugging. Grace sighed. “Too long then. Come on,”
Simon attempted to cross his arms, before looking down at his stump. “I told you, it’s fine,”
“Looking up close, they seem a bit irritated,” Grace fixed his glasses, leaning forward. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”
Simon opened his mouth to speak, closing it once more. Simply blinked at the other man.
“Look - if they’re irritated, you could be on your way to an infection,” Grace frowned. “Please let me help,”
Simon looked like he was fighting an internal war within himself. “....Fine,” He relented after a moment, with a large breath.
“Rock, would you mind staying in here? It’s more or less a waiting game with the taumoeba right now anyway, but let me know if you need anything,”
Rocky gave a thumbs up. “Rocky take great care of taumoeba! Grace take great care of Simon!”