Chapter Text
The laundry situation on the Hail Mary is… interesting. There's no actual washer or dryer unit aboard. Even with the gray-water recycler, something normally so benign as laundry was not prioritized due to the amount of water lost during the process. There is an autoclave on board (Stratt was deadly serious when it came to sending her scientist up with anything they could need), but it's not nearly big enough for clothes. Clearly intended only for instruments and limited usage due to, once again, the risk of losing too much water.
It leaves Grace with limited options for what to do with his laundry. He's taken to spraying his clothes down with diluted isopropyl alcohol and letting them dry on improvised clothes-lines hanging in the lab. It makes for a slow process, having to wait for the clothes to dry. But it leads to the least amount of water lost and his clothes don't stink. It also means that when Grace procrastinates in doing his laundry, he has to wait quite a while.
Today's been a heavy laundry day, clothes and blankets piled up on one of the lab tables. Thanks to Rocky's… inventions, they've been having more 'fun'. Which means Grace has taken to scrubbing his own cum stains out of fabric like a teenager that just discovered what hormones are. He supposes he's not too dissimilar- he has just discovered what sex is like when he's 100% into it.
But that means when he pushes laundry off like he has been, he's got very little left to wear. He doesn't even have a clean pair of boxers left after Rocky woke him up with a hand-job this morning. Not that Grace is complaining but c'mon! He's tired of scrubbing cum out of his clothes.
He's ended up in one of Ilyukhina's dresses. He's worn all of his own clothes and most of what he could fit into of Yao's. The dress is comfy! Soft stretch-y fabric that falls down just above his knees, dark blue and loose on his body. The shoulders and arms were tight, but a quick snip to the arms and now it's sleeveless. Mary's filtered air is still chilly, in spite of Rocky's xenonite tunnels acting like heating vents, so Grace has his one clean hoodie thrown over it.
He's also wearing panties.
It felt weird to run around with his junk just… out! But again- Rocky soiled his last pair of clean boxers. So… panties it is. He chose one of the more relaxed styles from Ilyukhina's collection. A simple black pair that stretches and keeps his bits nice and contained.
Grace tries not to think about how if it weren't for the fact that he's lost his muscles from the lack of nutritious food, he wouldn't have fit.
He fails.
The food concern is growing larger as the days pass. Grace is still religiously stretching out his remaining good food, whilst still breeding Taumoeba. All in the hopes of actually making it back to Erid. The supplies are dwindling. Grace has enough food and coma-slurry to keep himself alive for a majority of the trip, however, the last three months will leave him with just Taumoeba, and that's if he sticks to the current routine of cutting back what he can.
He survived Stratt's Vat, getting launched into space, a four year coma, and getting tossed around inside his ship above Adrian. Yet, he still is likely to die before reaching Erid. At least he gave Rocky crew permissions already in case he's ever indisposed or dead. Though it took a lot of arguing and resulted in Rocky angrily cuddling Grace that night.
Yeah, that's a thing they do now. Aside from Rocky getting him off every now and then. They also cuddle regularly.
Just bros.
Cuddling.
God, Grace's life is weird. He and Rocky haven't exactly defined what they are, outside of conversation about if Adrian would get mad or not. Eridians don't have the same cultural taboos around sex that humans do, interestingly enough. The act of sex is purely for reproduction and it's mostly just them laying eggs and being done with it. Rocky says they 'thrum' as a part of the act itself, though thrumming is also not inherently sexual or taboo. Thrums are how Eridians communicate in large groups! It's all so fascinating and Grace has a whole notebook dedicated to everything Rocky's told him about his species. There's a secondary one for Erid itself.
That being said, Eridians are asexual- in the human sexuality sense, not in the biological reproduction sense. Grace had a field day teasing Rocky about being a freak for squishy, leaky alien blobs. He did end up with another overstimulation session because of that but it was worth it.
"Oh! I like!" Rocky's happy chitters sound from behind Grace. He's still scrubbing his boxers in the sink, sleeves rolled up and glasses dangling from one ear.
"What?" Grace asks, turning to glance over his shoulder. Only to spot Rocky lifting the back of the skirt. "Hey!"
Rocky doesn't need to lift the skirt. He can see through clothing- he can see through Grace's skin if he's close enough. Which means the pervert is doing it as an imitation of something he's seen.
God, Grace should've never given that rock unlimited internet access.
"Pervert!" He grunts, nudging Rocky back with his foot. Grace stumbles, having to catch himself on the edge of the sink or risk braining himself off the floor. Little chirping giggles sound behind him.
"Grace wear new clothes, statement."
"Yeah, Rocky," Grace huffs, turning back to cleaning his clothes. His cheeks dust pink at the reminder of what happened that morning. Rocky rousing him from sleep with gentle pressure through his boxers, cooing and praising him as Grace started humping against his claw…
"Grace Grace Grace!"
"Hm? What's up?"
"No response to Rocky when Rocky ask question. Distracted, question?"
"Yeah," he admits, still scrubbing. Now there's cum in the gray water. He knows Mary's filtration cycle is state-of-the-art and that the likelihood of him washing his hands with cum-water is nil. The thought still pesters him in spite of that reassurance. "Sorry, just uh… cleaning up after our lovely morning." He holds up the soaked boxers with a sideways glance towards the instigator.
More chirping Eridian giggles follow as Rocky scuttles between his legs. He's like a damn cat nuzzling against Grace's shins.
"Rocky ask why Grace never wore this before! Is new! Cute cute cute!" Rocky trills as he weaves around Grace, bumping against him occasionally.
"Uh… yeah. Well, it isn't mine," Grace explains before turning back to his underwear. There's still staining and just using his fingers isn't working. He picks up the toothbrush next to him and starts using that to get the last bit of the stain out.
Thankfully, there were sent up with enough hygiene products to spare so Grace can afford to never use this toothbrush for its intended purpose. It's bad enough there's cum in the water system now, he doesn't need to use the same toothbrush for cleaning said cum and brushing his teeth.
What the fuck am I doing?
"Men don't uh… typically wear dresses on Earth. At least in my experience."
"Yes, Earth culture. Rocky know. Rocky still like Grace in dress."
Grace blinks before turning to look down at Rocky again. Right, entirety of human knowledge on his laptop… At least Rocky's using it for more than just Minecraft and porn.
"Yeah? I haven't really worn much of Ilyukhina's stuff," he mumbles, trying to ignore the way his heart pangs in his chest. "She uh… she was smaller than me. Couldn't really fit into most of her stuff anyways."
"Grace fit now, question?" Rocky pauses in his slinking around Grace's shins to tap-tap against the floor.
"Yeah… well now that I'm cutting back on food, I'm losing the muscle I had."
Everything seems to be a reminder of Grace's inevitable starvation. There's so many mixed emotions around the trip to Rocky's home planet. Grace had spent most of the mission knowing he would die, once he had his memories back. Then he had to grapple with the idea of living once again when Rocky gave him his fuel. When Grace decided to turn back, it had been with the knowledge he was likely not to make it. He's fluctuated between accepting death and feeling miraculously saved too often at this point.
Would it be better to just accept that he's likely to die? Or does he continue clinging onto hope? Would it hurt more? Less? He doesn't want to starve, but… isn't that what he deserves? After all, he didn't want to be on this mission in the first place. He was content with the idea of starving back on Earth- when it felt like a distant, incomprehensible future.
Rocky's crooning whale-song and single claw curling in the fabric of his skirt pulls Grace away from his mind. He supposes now it doesn't matter what or if he deserves this. Rocky wants him to live, to succeed and make it back to Erid alongside him. Grace will try, he'll attempt one last impossible challenge. If only for the creature clinging to him right now. If it's for Rocky, it's really not a difficult task at all.
"I'm okay, Rock," he assures, smiling fondly. He finally scrubs out the last of his… crimes before wringing out his underwear. "I'm not starving or sick yet, the coma-slurry means my nutrients will be met for quite a while still. I just… don't have the same cool buff figure I used to."
They had a long discussion about human bodies after that, all the while Grace hung up his laundry. Rocky aided as best he could, spraying whatever didn't need to be scrubbed while Grace explained how human bodies held weight and fluctuated. Rocky listened attentively, showing in the little chirps and hums, but doesn't add anything more to the discussion.
"Worry worry worry," Rocky titters, interrupting the silence.
"Me too bud," Grace sighs, doing his best to ignore the weight that settles on his shoulders.
Mary keeps track of the time for them. Grace has spreadsheets and information on his supplies that he links to Mary and Armando's programming, allowing them to adjust to the carefully laid out plans he made for his food stores. The Taumoeba doesn't have the macro or micronutrients he needs, but the extra calories keep him aloft for a while.
Until they don't.
Grace doesn't have an exact timeline of his decline, but he does remember being only four months out when he finally notices. His nails are brittle and breaking, his eyes have been gaunt for a while. He's the thinnest he's ever been in his life and just carrying equipment around the lab is starting to wind him. He's able to ignore it for a good while. To smile too widely at Rocky and distract him with the newest game or movie to watch.
Grace is in the lab when it happens. When he's finally forced to face the facts. Looking back, he'll call himself vain for that very moment being the turning point. He's doing his routine checks in the morning in between gulps of Taumoeba slurry. He runs his hands through his hair. It's a mindless action, one he does without realizing most days. When his fingers fall away, a chunk of hair follows. Like his nails, his hair has gotten brittle and prone to breaking. It hasn't just fallen out before. Not in such a large quantity or all at once.
Ryland Grace is dying.
He's not sure how long he stands there, staring down at the clump of dirty-blond hair in between his fingers. The world around him fades as he looks down at his own hand. He doesn't notice the rapid fall and rise of his chest or the trembling that wracks his entire body. It's only him and the overwhelming realization that this is it.
Rocky finds him. Rocky in all his loud blustering, doesn't ask Grace any questions. There's no two-tap stomp. There's no curios chitters. Just a drop of his carapace and a flutter of his vents that echoes against the walls of the Hail Mary.
"You should rest," Rocky trills. They've been using the text-to-speech program less as Grace memorizes more of Rocky's language. He's not entirely in-tune with the subvocal patterns, but he recognizes the notes of solemn-concern-fear that encircle Rocky's words.
"I just woke up, Rock," he mumbles, eyes still trained on the hair in his hand.
"… at least sit down. For me?"
Grace blinks, fingers curling around the hair until his knuckles turn white. He finally lifts his head to face Rocky, but his vision is blurred. Why can't he see? Did he forget his glasses on the other lab table? He hiccups as his eyes sting.
"Grace… come, sit. Let's sit down."
Grace sniffles as he trails after Rocky. Each step feels heavier than the last as he trudges away from the lab. By the time Rocky leads him into the dormitory, Grace's tears are flowing freely down his cheeks. He hiccups as Rocky stands atop their futon, turning his carapace back like he's looking over his shoulder.
Grace collapses onto the futon, wincing at the way his knees ache from the movement. He's been bruising easier, it wouldn't surprise him if they turn purple in a few hours.
Rocky makes room for him as he curls up in a ball on his side. Grace doesn't move much, but Rocky bustles around him. Encircling him in soft knit blankets and spare pillows. He's been getting colder as the months progress and Rocky's been making him more sweaters, blankets, and soft things in response. A beanie is gently pulled over his head to keep him warm. Grace knows the material is navy, not unlike the one he left back on Earth.
Grace still has his own hair clenched in his fist. He glares at it as Rocky bundles him up.
Grace spends the rest of the day in a haze. In between fits of crying, Rocky feeds him. Grace doesn't have the strength to tease him like he normally would. Rocky doesn't comment about how gross it is, even if that's their usual routine. Grace falls in and out sleep, though Rocky is there each time his eyes open. Always doing something; knitting, tinkering, or just gently caressing Grace through the blankets.
They don't speak, not for the rest of the day.
Grace sleeps more, takes more frequent breaks than ever, and just generally lounges on the futon as his energy steadily declines. Rocky helps him keep up a routine, ensures he gets at least two meals in him a day and help him check on the Taumoeba. The cloud over his brain looms ever present and makes him stupid, but Rocky doesn't even tease him for it.
"Rocky," Grace starts one day. He's bundled up on the futon. He's stopped trying to climb into bed a week ago. With all the extra blankets, the futon is padded enough that there's not much of difference anymore anyhow. He's wearing fingerless gloves that Rocky finished for him the previous night.
"Yes, Grace? Can I get you something?" Rocky's usual fluttery chirps and trills are softer nowadays. Grace tries not to blame himself for it. He fails.
"We should… we should talk about this."
"Talk about what?"
"C'mon, Rock. This! Me- I'm not- I'm dying, Rocky."
"You are sick, but you aren't dying."
Grace huffs, scowling over at his friend. Rocky, who's been so attentive and keeping him sane while his body slowly eats away at itself. He should be kinder- he should be gentle. Of course this is as hard for Rocky as it is for him. He doesn't think about that, though. The curling hot frustration just ignites a fire in his chest, enough to force Grace to sit up.
"Grace no. You should lay back down-"
"No, Rocky. I'm serious. We need to plan for this. You need to know what to do when I-"
"If! Not when. If!"
"I'm dying, Rocky. You need to be prepared for it."
"No."
"No?!"
"No. You will live. I will make sure of it. No need for plans."
"You're being stupid!"
Rocky's entire body sputters, limbs fluttering and stomping against the floor as his sub-vocals screech anger and grief. Grace expects to hear the familiar squeaking chirps of an argument. Instead, Rocky stills and his vents let out a long hiss.
"I'm going to go prepare your lunch. Lay down."
Rocky leaves then, before Grace can muster up a reply.
Trying to broach the topic, even without being argumentative, is a lost cause. Every time Grace even hints at his untimely demise, Rocky adamantly refuses to accept the possibility of death. He tries gently discussing, dancing around the actual meaning. He tries direct and succinct discussions. He even tries to joke around it like they usual do. None of it works. Rocky reacts the same each time, freezing up before swiftly changing the topic.
Grace knows why. Rocky doesn't want to be alone again. That much makes sense to him. After forty years of isolation, Rocky is reticent to the mere idea of isolation. Grace gets it, in his own human perception. It doesn't mean he's any less frustrated by Rocky's stonewalling.
So, Grace starts up a new project. In between naps increasing in length and watching Rocky's latest hobbies, Grace works at his laptop. Spore runs in the background, just in case Grace needs to make a quick tab over, but Grace isn't playing. He's writing. It's an odd combination of a journal, last will and testament, and death-care instructions. Grace never really took to writing outside of academic papers, but it feels good to write. He just wants to talk about it.
He writes everything, his day to day observations, his feelings. He describes the swirling thoughts from their first romp together. To the affection that warms his chest every time Rocky comes over with heated Taumoeba for him.
He tells Rocky what to do with his body.
I'd like to be cremated. Find a pretty spot by the ocean, somewhere peaceful. Let me rest there. In human culture, sometimes family or loved ones keep small portions of the cremains in jewelry and wear them. You can do that if you'd like. Don't send me out into the airlock or try to send me back to Earth. I want to be laid to rest on a planet, even if it's not my own. I'm sick of space.
Sometimes, Grace gets sentimental.
When I think about love in the way others describe it- how it's supposed to feel, it doesn't line up with how I experience it. I don't feel sparks when I kiss you. I don't feel butterflies in my stomach. Being with you feels more like… finally settling down for bed after a long day. It feels like summer campfires and hot chocolate on a winter morning. I know that probably makes no sense to you.
I think I love you, Rocky. I don't know if I'll ever have the chance to say it in the way I mean it. In a way that isn't sarcastic or platonic. But I do. I'm sorry I'm not brave enough to say it before you read this.
"Grace."
"Mnh."
"Graaaaaaace."
"Five more minutes."
"You've had one more hour. Time to get up."
Grace grunts, cracking one eye open to see Rocky at the head of the futon. He's tapping one claw against the floor repeatedly, vents fluttering with little sharp bursts of air. Grace doesn't want to get up, though. His bed is comfy and he's still so tired.
The logical part of his brain knows this is just how starvation works. It's his body trying to cope with the lack of nutrients by remaining as still and slow as possible. However, Grace doesn't feel like being logical. He wants five more minutes. He rolls over with a huff, tossing the blanket over his head as he curls up.
"Grace!" Rocky's normally trilling voice is sharp jabbers now.
"Three more minutes."
"One."
"Two?"
"Two. If you don't get up in two minutes, I'm making Armando lift you."
Grace is given exactly two minutes to doze back off before claws are prodding at his back. He whines and grumbles, but doesn't want to risk Armando's wrath. He already got man-handled by the robot yesterday. Or was it the day before? It's hard to really remember nowadays. He heaves out a sigh and sits up.
He rubs his eyes as Rocky frets over him. Rocky's taken to this new routine rather well, helping Grace sit up and wrapping an extra blanket around his shoulders. Grace lets him, knowing it'll just waste his precious energy to argue. Rocky hands him a thermos after, heated Taumoeba slurry for him. The morning calories help wake him up, even if it tastes like sipping warmed brine.
"Lean forward."
Grace takes a sip of his brine-soup before doing as instructed. Rocky's even taken to brushing his hair in the mornings. Grace won't argue this, he doesn't want to see any more of the hair he knows he's losing.
Once Rocky had him sat up and settled, he lets Grace relax. They normally watch something, typically the old Sunday morning cartoons Grace grew up on. Today, he just idly watches as Rocky shows off his latest builds in Minecraft.
Grace tries his best to pay attention, but the stack of cooked steak in Rocky's hotbar is what grabs his attention. There's a pang in his stomach as he remembers the steaks he used to order on Earth. Hell, even an overcooked steak that he'd have to chew for hours just to swallow sounds like heaven right now. His mouth waters.
"Grace?"
"I think I'd kill for a steak right now," he mumbles, eyes still looking over the pixelated beef on the screen.
"Please do not. Eridians make for horrible steaks."
"You would totally taste like battery acid and concrete."
That at least gets a startled chittering of giggles out of Rocky. Grace allows himself to feel accomplished.
you take amazing care of me, Rocky. im sorry youve gotta deal with this. that you have to do any of this. its more than i deserve. its more than anyone should have to do in this scenario. yet you do it without question. youvve given me everything
Grace isn't really cognizant once they get to Erid. It comes to him in flashes. Orbiting the alien planet. Rocky using an extended transmitter from Mary to try and radio down to the planet. Alien-sounding Eridian crackling over Mary's speakers. Grace spends most of his time in bed, only rousing long enough to eat and let Rocky help him move around.
The lack of nutrients have taken their toll. He's certain he has scurvy and maybe beriberi. The scars on his arm in the shape of Rocky's claws are open once more, freshly bleeding through what little remains of Mary's medical supplies. It takes both Armando and Rocky to hold Grace up most days, his legs too weak to support his own weight.
Grace isn't certain on the timeline- how long it takes between the first radio connection and for the rest of Erid to get to work. Rocky tells him about space elevators and medical supplies. Chitters on about how they've made it. Grace just nods along, chronically sleepy and only half focused.
When the haze finally lifts, when Grace can finally keep his eyes open for more than a minute, Rocky's gone.
He's not alone, there's about three different Eridians scuttling about the dormitory. The futon is gone, in fact almost all of his personal affects are gone. He assumes they're packed up somewhere. He thinks he remembers Rocky mentioning packing in preparation for orbit. It's hard to remember what's real and what was dreamed.
Rocky's blankets remain, though. Multiple of them laid over his body to keep him warm. He tugs the topmost closer and rubs it against his cheek.
One of the Eridians notices the movement, bouncing their carapace suddenly before scuttling over. They wear a XEVA suit like Rocky's, though it looks to be far more flexible and hugs closer to their body than any of the ones Rocky had before. Grace's chest warms at knowing Rocky's perfected the prototype.
"Savior Grace! Good, you are conscious. How are you feeling?"
Grace tilts his head as he looks down at the stranger. Their carapace is a soft ochre color, striping along their carapace in soft reds and oranges reminiscent of strata lines on sandstone. There's chunks of blues and greens around their joints, the splashes of color reminding Grace of raw azurite. He names them 'Oasis' in his mind and mentally makes a note to show Rocky Wonderwall.
"Uh…" He glances around, taking in the state of the ship and himself. He still feels terrible, there's a constant dull ache at the base of his skull, his eyes feel heavy, and all of his bones hurt. He didn't think it possible for an entire skeleton to ache, yet it feels like every part of him was left in a spin cycle. "Achy. Sore. Not as um… tired as I was."
Oasis tilts their carapace as a speaker overhead plays staccato notes.
Grace blinks and looks up. There's a small monitory on the wall above him, running his old TTS program he used to speak with Rocky. Only now, the settings are reversed. Of course. Rocky thought through everything, including language barriers.
"To be expected. Hopefully we can get you started on better nutritional supplies soon." Oasis' voice is smoother than Rocky's. Rocky's voice is like jazz, loud and unashamed, constantly moving just like it's owner. Oasis reminds him of soft elevator music.
"Where's Rocky?" Grace asks, moving to try and sling his legs over the side of the bed. Oasis scampers forward, waving two arms in front of Grace and prattling on.
"You are still very sick, please stay in bed! Savior Rocky is planet-side participating in Council thrums! We will alert Rocky of your being awake. Rocky will return when they can!"
Grace blinks, looking down at Oasis before back towards the hallway. He can't see through to the window, but there's a faint blue glow that stretches out into it.
Rocky left me?
Grace's breath hitches as tries to inhale- suddenly Mary feels too small around him. His hands shake as he adjusts himself on the bed. He hears Oasis chirruping and asking about him, asking what's wrong, but it's faint as static washes out all other noise.
Rocky left me behind.
It's the only thing Grace can think. He knows he's being illogical, knows that Rocky likely has a lot to do on Erid. Deal with the Astrophage crisis, explain what happened to his crew aboard Blip-A, convince his entire species to let Grace live, figure out how to keep Grace alive. It's not surprising Rocky can't be on the Hail Mary the entire time.
It still hurts.
Rocky's been with him for the past four years. Always there when Grace wakes up. Always nearby and ready to start the day with him. Tending to him once the malnutrition took hold. A constant, steady presence. They haven't been apart in close to five years. It feels like Grace is missing a limb without Rocky.
"I'm tired," he tells Oasis, reaching up to wipe away a stray tear. His arm is still bandaged, he notes distantly. He's bleeding where Rocky held him once. "Gonna go back to sleep."
"Will watch over Savior Grace while he rests!"
"… Thanks."
It's not who he wants to be there, but at least he's not entirely alone.
i wish w e had more time. i iwsh we met in another life one that was kinder to us both. im sorry this is how we met and im sorry that im glad things happened this way. i wouldnt want to die with anytone else in the universe
i l ove you
Grace discovers he has a dedicated care team that Rocky put together. He's a little surprised that the Eridians were so willing to dump manpower and resources on just him, but Oasis reassures him it's the least they could do after he ensured the survival of their entire world. He doesn't admit that most of his decision on turning around was focused more on Rocky than anything else. It's already been a few weeks of his being cognizant, but there's no sign of Rocky anytime soon.
Grace tries not to take it personally, but he fails spectacularly at that. The main distraction he has is in the form of figuring out just how the Eridians turned Mary into a hospital.
Oasis is the one in charge of his medical team, acting as a doctor and charge nurse. They've taken up residence in Rocky's old tunnel system, living with Grace on Mary. The only time Oasis isn't actively working is when one of the other team members takes over while they sleep.
Rocky, Grace assumes, set up Mary in her centrifuge state, but cut the engines to ensure there's no rotation. Mary is connected to a space elevator- though Grace has yet to see much outside of the dormitory. Supplies and Eridians alike are sent up and down the elevator. There's apparently an entire lab set up at the top of the elevator where even more Eridians are working to replicate his coma-slurry and other human necessities.
Today, much to Grace's chagrin, he's being forced out of the dormitory.
"Need to walk! Need to gain strength in body," Oasis chirps and hisses their vents at him. Now that they're long past introductions, Oasis has revealed themselves to run a tight ship. They're polite, professionally so, but Grace isn't allowed to get away with anything.
"It's so far, though," Grace complains, dragging himself to the edge of the bed.
"Is not. Grace lazy."
"You've decided to be mean today, Oasis. I don't much care for this new attitude."
"Care as much or as little as you like. Oasis is correct. Grace is acting like a pebble, petulant!"
Grace groans as he finally forces himself to his feet. He's unsteady, but Oasis is there swiftly with a walker. Everything that he needs has been crafted by the Eridians around him. Anything that Mary doesn't already have is made and sent up the elevator. Some of it has been trial and error, as Grace isn't built for Erid.
Oasis handles it all with a cool, collected state that has him genuinely impressed. Even after they had to load him up with epinephrine when his newly supplied bandages caused a severe allergic reaction.
They're still working on food, but have managed to recreate his coma-slurry thanks to Grace's preserved stock. He's on a nasal feeding tube for the time being. However, depending on how long it takes for Erid to develop more varieties in human food, Oasis might put him on a stomach tube. Like most things with Grace's life at this point, it's up in the air.
I miss Rocky.
He takes the handles of the offered walker and trudges after Oasis. The coma-slurry recreation has aided in dialing back his symptoms, at least. He's still missing a lot of vital nutrients, but the Eridians both on Mary and down on Erid are working hard to figure out supplements for him. It feels like the entire planet is working to keep him alive.
Despite it all, he feels small. He won't live as long as any of the Eridians around him. Even the eldest members of his care team will outlive him.
"This feels like a waste," he whispers to Oasis as they drag his old lab chair over to the window.
"No cost too great for Grace. Grace save Erid. Time for Erid to save Grace," they hum, their subvocal tone so stern it's hard for Grace to argue past that.
He settles into the chair with a sigh, finally looking out the window.
Erid is beautiful, a brilliant blue with shimmering rings tracing along her orbit. It's impossible to see through the atmosphere down to the land, Grace knew this would be the case. Still, Erid is gorgeous. It reminds him of Adrian with the vibrant swirling colors.
"Rocky's down there," he mumbles, more to himself than any attempt at conversation. Every time he asks, he's met with the same answers. Rocky's busy, he's working, he's with the Council Thrum. He's doing something other than visiting Grace and that takes priority. He feels abandoned, even with the constant round-the-clock care team.
"They are. Busy busy busy. I have word Savior Rocky has sent something up alongside Grace's medical supplies. Will give you when it arrives."
Grace doesn't know if he really wants any gifts right now.
"… Thanks, Oasis."
"Of course, Savior Grace."
"… Ryland."
"What is that?"
"My name… Ryland. Grace is my family name."
"Ah… Eridians also have clutch names! Ryland is… chosen name?"
"In a way."
"What's Ryland's full title?"
Grace laughs, but the sound tastes like tar as it leaves him.
"Technically… Captain Doctor Ryland Grace."
"In Eridian it would be… Captain Doctor Ryland of Clutch Grace, Cradled on Earth: Savior of Erid." The notes rise and fall in a way that reminds Grace of the waves back home. His stomach churns.
"That's quite long for a name, Oasis. Let's just stick with Ryland."
"Agreed."
di d u know u were the first to make me geel so special? that not one person back on eatyh managed w hat u have? it s ctazy to me. ytoure my best friedn, Rocky. there snot enough words in englah or erid that can explan evrythnh i fele
Rocky's gift arrives as Oasis is preparing his 'meal'. Apparently, healthcare professionals on Erid are just as blasé as the ones on Earth about the concept of privacy. No one on his care team has referenced anything about the social taboo of feeding. If it does bother them, they're able to hide it well enough that he can't tell.
Half of Rocky's gift isn't meant for Grace directly. It's handed off to one of the engineers on duty. There's a small group of them that work to keep Mary running, replacing anything broken. Grace thinks Mary's bordering on becoming a Ship of Theseus project with how often her parts are being replaced by Eridian technology.
Oasis hands him the smaller box from Rocky's gift before turning to hang his coma-slurry from a pole. It's small, with latches on the side. Not unlike the last gift box Rocky made him. He hopes none of the Eridians working on the ship have spotted it, wherever it's been tucked away. It's bad enough he needs help getting to the toilet, his care team doesn't deserve to also find his sex toys. He really hopes Rocky didn't make him another sex toy.
Opening the box reveals a small sheet of thin metal with English carved out in blocky script.
Grace,
I based this off of Earth's portable thinking machine designs. It will connect directly to me. Please use it to contact me until I can make it back to the Hail Mary.
Yours,
Rocky
Grace lifts the metal, revealing what looks to be a phone. An Eridian attempt at a smartphone, at least. It's light, but he knows it'll handle a drop better than any iPhone back on Earth. There's no camera, but on the back is a little white circle. When he turns the screen on and navigates through the rather simple interface, he's delighted to discover it's a built-in flashlight. Stupid rock, remembering things about Grace's inferior biology.
His heart hurts.
There's another button directly above the 'light' labeled 'rocky<3'. He scowls down at the symbols beside Rocky's name.
"Is Ryland displeased with his gift?" Oasis chirps as they move away. Two claws held up until they reach the sink.
"… No. Just… not really sure. I guess."
"Need to talk?"
"No… uh thanks, though." Not with you.
"Thrum for care-team, I'll be back after. Just shout if you need anything."
"Yeah, thank you, Oasis."
Oasis leaves without another comment, a low trill of another Eridian's name echoing after them. Grace listens for a while as other voices follow suit. A harmony soon starts, all overlapping to the point he can't decipher any specific words. They're talking about him, he knows that much.
His gaze falls back to the phone once again. He can call Rocky now. He can finally have what he wants: contact with the very person he's been missing like a limb since he's woken up.
And yet he hesitates.
Rocky has his own life. Rocky was not like Grace, alone and sent off without his say. Rocky volunteered and miraculously came back. He's got a whole partner he's been wanting to reconnect with. There's people still alive and waiting for him, that have spent decades waiting for his return. Grace wasn't a part of Rocky's life prior to leaving from Erid. It's unfair to expect he would be included in that life now that Rocky's home.
He just wishes he could be part of it.
Isolation isn't a new feeling for Grace. He always felt it to a degree back on Earth. Alien among his own people, unable to connect with anyone on the same level. He had thought, during his relationship with Linda, that perhaps he had finally beat the system. Only to end up alone again and for that isolation to persist after. There was always that younger version of himself, the part of him that yearned. Just once, he wanted to be someone's. Wanted to be the priority, not an object of affection or partner, specifically. Just… important.
Savior Grace is important to Erid, but he wants Ryland to be important to Rocky.
Facing Rocky feels too much like facing all those feelings head on. Even if it's only through text, he can't bring himself to do it. Grace has never been one to handle rejection well, Denmark taught him that. That final, shuttering realization that he's not as important to Rocky as Rocky is to him? Grace can't deal with that.
He's still a coward, at the end of the day.
He listens for a moment to confirm his caretakers are still thrumming before he gets up. He uses his walker, because he knows if he makes a single sound and Oasis sees him moving around without, they will tie him to the bed. He grasps for his laptop and drags it back to bed with him.
It's really not that difficult to get into the programming of the phone, Rocky more than likely left it easy to access for Grace's benefit. He manages to set up a rudimentary file sharing and formats his pages upon pages of writings. It's all in a neat word document, clearly outlined.
He sends it off before he can think twice. He waits to see that it was received before he turns the phone off entirely. The phone ends up on the small nightstand next to him as he switches over to his laptop. Spore has been waiting for him and he wants to do anything but think right now.
u deserve the universe but thaty'e not smth i can give. u deserve happy days with adiran. i can only give u myself iang i know that s not enouh. i hopeu enjoyed ouir time togethe at least. evne if im nothing more than a pet to u, in comparison to ho w long ull live. at lest i got t o meet you. i got to be ur friend. that's motre than enough 4 fme.
I lvoe you
i love yo u
I love you, Rocky.