Chapter Text
Simon ducked down from the window and kicked off the wall violently. He threw himself away from the window and hid, his entire body wracked with fear.
What the hell was that?! He'd spoken to Grace and Rocky, they weren't—how was Grace so big?! He shoved a fist against his mouth to keep himself from making any sound.
"Simon?" Grace's voice rung out again, coming from both the radio and outside. He shivered. "No, don't do that, Rock- Simon, it's okay, it's just me! You're safe, see?"
Fat fucking chance. Simon tried to calm down, but his vision was starting to get dark around the edges. His breath was sharp and labored, choking on the sudden, all-consuming terror. He had to be dreaming, this couldn't be real—
"Stop- stop it, just- fuck-" Simon choked on the pure horror coursing through his body. "No, no, no…"
"Dang it… Okay, Simon, uh… Shoot, does this thing even have a hatch?" Grace's voice was louder, as if he was closer—and there was a horrible grinding on the hull of the ship. "Hm…"
Simon recoiled away from the sound. He shoved himself into the corner furthest away from the window, for all the good it did him. Why had he done this to himself?! He couldn't have just ignored the radio, why did he have to say something?!
Why did he have to have hope?!
There was a near-deafening scraping from outside. He covered his ears and tried to breathe. Was Grace trying to destroy the hull?? "N- no, no, no-”
He heard more music from outside, and then, the radio buzzed with static.
"Simon heartbeat very fast. Grace move away from small ship now, question?" Rocky asked, and Simon could have cried with relief. He prayed to God, hopeful that Grace would listen—
"I didn't mean to scare him… Simon, can you hear me?" Grace asked, his tone tight with… what, worry? About what? "I'm not touching the ship anymore, you're okay. Can we just talk, maybe…?"
Simon couldn't move. He wanted to beg to be thrown back into space, but wasn't this his salvation? Or maybe this was his punishment… Maybe he was going to spend the rest of his eternity here, being…
His stomach dropped as he remembered Grace's answer to his question. This ship was a research vessel.
He knew exactly what the C.O.I. would do to a prisoner—but with an anomaly? A creature human in all ways but one? Maybe Grace and Rocky really weren't with them, but did it matter? They were still scientists, and he was an interesting thing that they'd fished out of space.
He shuddered. He was basically a slightly more intelligent mouse, to them.
Mice didn't live long, happy lives on research vessels. He whimpered.
"He's not answering." He heard Grace's voice ring out from the radio again. "Let's just get it open, then we can figure it out."
"No- no, don't!" Simon shouted, pure terror seizing his chest. "Just- stay away from me, okay?! Please!"
There was a long, horrible silence. Fuck, now he'd yelled at them—he couldn't do anything right, and now he was going to be vivisected for it. He'd known that he needed to pay for his crimes, but this? It was beyond cruelty.
"Okay, okay- just tell me that you've got food and water in there," Grace said, sounding worried. Of course he was worried, he probably wanted his specimen to stay healthy.
Shit, he didn't have food, and he was ankle-deep in blood. Well, there wasn't any gravity, so he was more just floating amidst a bunch of blood, but the principle was the same.
He took in a quiet breath to force himself to remain calm. "There's food and water, I'm okay. Can you- maybe it would be good if you could put the- the ship somewhere stable…?"
"Oh, yeah, sure!" Grace said, then there was a pause. "Uh… hold onto something, I guess…? We'll put you on the shelf by the command console, there's stuff in there that we can move to keep you from floating anywhere."
Simon nodded to himself. Okay, that was… Well, it was something. Maybe the two outside really wouldn't try to open the sub until he allowed it—well, he wouldn't ever allow it, so they were at a crossroads.
After a second, he realized that Grace was awaiting a confirmation. He cleared his throat and said hesitantly, "I'm- I'm good. Do it."
Instantly, there was an impact on the outside of the ship. He tensed as the sound of creaking metal filled his entire world, and the light from the sub's window vanished. He wedged himself further into the corner by the ship's computer, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest.
He could feel vibrations shuddering throughout the entire ship as the man moved. No, he couldn't just be a man, that wasn't the right word—he was a creature, an entity. Just another monster outside the ship waiting to tear him apart.
He remembered the old stories of a vengeful god, capable of destroying an entire civilization on a whim. Were the old gods this terrifying?
It felt like an eternity before he felt the ship being put down. No, not quite—there was still some motion, seemingly as Grace packed things around the ship to keep it in place.
He felt sick at the thought. The SM-13, the vessel that had been his entire world for days, was the size of a child's toy. He hated everything about this.
"Okay, you're all set, Simon!" Grace said cheerfully, and there was once again light from the window. He fought the urge to go look, worried that his captor would be looking, too.
It took a second to remember his manners. "Uh, thank you."
He tried to collect himself, but it was difficult. His heart was still racing, and he was starting to actually feel the pain in his body from a myriad of injuries.
He groaned softly as he stretched out his legs. He could feel bruises starting to form everywhere, and his ribs were especially bad off from slamming into the console earlier. It was a stark reminder of the damage that Grace could do, even unintentionally.
He heard a muffled conversation from outside, but the radio didn't activate. He raised a brow curiously and tried to listen, but it was too quiet.
On a whim, he kicked off of the back wall gently and floated towards the front of the ship. He could see light spilling out from the window, and as his eyes adjusted, he saw the world outside.
His stomach dropped.
Just as Grace had said, it looked like a command room. He could see an enormous chair to his right, and past it, he saw the creatures in their entirety.
He shivered. Grace was the size of a space-station—it was certain, this creature would be the instrument of his death. His back was turned to Simon, but he could see a mess of blond hair atop his head. Strangely, the man was wearing a set of clothes that almost certainly pre-dated the 2200s. What was this place…?
There was another movement from the large, strange tunnels that crossed into the control room. Then, a large boulder—no, a spider?! Whatever it was, it moved through the tunnels idly, tapping a leg against the floor as the two spoke in quiet tones.
He heard a quiet, musical note, and it clicked. This monster was Rocky, Grace's crewmate! He shuddered and pushed away from the window, his stomach threatening to revolt.
He was trapped on a ship with a giant and a rock monster. He was going to die, and his death wouldn't even mean anything. The blackbox data was still on his ship.
He was a fool to think he could save humanity. How could he ever amount to anything?
He wrapped his arms around himself. He remembered being unconscious for a few minutes after a particularly nasty blow to the head, but…
The memories started filtering back, slow and hazy.
Oh. Ava was dead—the monster had killed her.
…She'd tried to help him, and she'd been killed for her trouble. His chest ached fiercely.
As he leaned away from the window, he saw the oxygen meter out of the corner of his eye—it was completely empty. His chest went cold.
Either he would suffocate, or he'd starve, or he'd be taken apart by the creatures outside the ship. There wasn't even hope of survival, not really.
Well, one of those would kill him a lot faster. Simon kicked away from the wall and went to the back of the ship.
Most of the lower compartment was still submerged with blood, even without gravity, but there were still some supplies. Namely, he needed to find something that he could use to bust the window open—with any luck, his captors wouldn't notice.
He plunged an arm down into the blood and started rooting around. He could feel the metal edges of the lower compartment, but he knew he'd tossed—
Simon's fingers brushed against a piece of rounded metal.
He pulled the fire extinguisher up from the blood and wiped his hands off on his shirt. It didn't help much, predictably.
With that, he crept closer to the window again and looked outside. The giants were still out there, but the conversation was a bit louder. He couldn't quite make out the words, but…
He took in a deep breath to steel himself. With that, he violently slammed the butt of the extinguisher against the window—
Clang!
He swore under his breath. Not even a scratch, the damn thing was solid. He peered closer at the inch-thick glass and scowled.
He risked another glance up at the distant figures. They hadn't seemed to notice anything. He slammed it against the window again and again, his efforts growing more and more frantic.
He felt an impact shudder throughout the entire ship, and he barely suppressed a flinch as he heard the radio crackle to life again.
"Simon? Are you okay? Rocky said he saw you hitting the window…?" Grace's voice rang out, and his stomach dropped.
How had Rocky even seen that?! He'd made sure that Grace's body was between him and the strange stone-creature, he'd thought…
Shit, he needed to play this carefully. He tossed the fire extinguisher aside and nearly screamed as Grace's face suddenly came into view through the window. Specifically, his eyes.
Fuck. He moved back to hide behind the chair, his hands shaking as he clung to it. "I… I wanted some, uh- some fresh air…?"
Grace's eyes widened at that, and then, he moved closer. The light all but vanished as a single blue eye filled the window.
Simon's breath caught in his chest as the mountain of a man looked right at him. He was shaking, his head starting to spin. Was that the lack of oxygen, or was he just dying? He tried to get himself under control, but his body was in overdrive. He was being watched, he was being studied—
A blink and it was gone.
Grace's voice rumbled throughout his entire ship, low and deep. "Yeah, we can do that! I've got a drill, that should work."
A drill. That was all he needed to pierce the hull of Simon's ship—all he needed to peel away his pitiful defenses. He couldn't help a quiet, panicked noise, his breath catching sharply in his chest.
He couldn't move—he couldn't even speak. He buried his face in the back of the chair and pressed his forehead against the cool metal. It wasn't enough, but it was something.
He looked up just in time to see Grace's back retreating. He took in a gasping, shuddering breath, batting away the drops of blood that hovered around him.
Simon felt his heart start to calm down, though it was a hard-won battle. He was fighting against instincts that he'd never felt, scrambling for a small, dark place to hide like a prey animal. And wasn't that what he was? Something small and vulnerable, unable to even fight back?
He had no doubt that Grace's patience would eventually run out. Maybe Rocky would want to study him, too—surely an alien would love a miniature human to study. It was only a matter of time before they cracked open the ship and took what they wanted.
If this wasn't divine retribution, he didn't know what was. His brothers would probably laugh at the feared Butcher, tiny and cowering in a blood-encrusted cage.
He was distracted by his thoughts as Grace's figure appeared again out the window. The man was holding a drill, perfectly sized for his hands—it was easily double Simon's height and thrice his bulk. He shuddered at the sight and retreated again into the corner, hiding from view.
"Okay, I've got the drill!" Grace's voice rang out, both through the radio and through his very bones, rumbling like thunder, from what he remembered of it. "You there, Simon? I mean- you're obviously there, I just meant- are you ready?"
He wanted, so badly, to refuse. He felt like he was going to be sick, the sickening feeling of bile tinging the back of his throat.
"Yeah, but- just the window, right?" Simon asked, fighting back a shudder as he peered around the wall—only to see the drill lined up with the window.
"Just the window, I promise," Grace said, sounding almost disappointed. Before Simon could think more of it, he asked, "Unless you want me to take the top off, maybe…?"
"Nope, that's-" Simon shuddered. "I'm good."
"Right," Grace said. "Okay, cover your ears. I'll be quick about it."
Simon obeyed, and a few seconds later, there was a sharp, high-pitched sound—the walls vibrated with the force of it, and even his teeth chattered. He yelped, unable to really help himself.
Then, it was over. He peeked out again, his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, but…
Sure enough, the window was gone. Simon noticed with a chill that Grace had also damaged the metal surrounding the window. There were enormous scratches inlaid on the top of the console.
Oh, no, he didn't like that, not at all. Simon swallowed his nerves and hesitantly called out, "Tha- thank you, Grace."
What was he doing? Stop being nice, he's just going to dissect you, idiot. He ignored the thought as his captor's face lowered back into view, further away this time.
Grace's smile was… wow. He had little crinkles at the corners of his eyes—smile lines, Simon's brain provided. This really wasn't fair—why couldn't he have been ugly? That would have made it easier to hate him.
And then, Grace spoke, and the radio wasn't on anymore.
"You're welcome," Grace said, his voice quiet. His gaze was transfixed on Simon, eyes wide with curiosity. "Is… Sorry, I'm only just now noticing- is that blood?"
Simon winced. Right, the hole was bigger and it was letting in more light—he wasn't overly surprised, but this was a pain.
"Uh… Yeah, kinda," Simon said, raising his voice just a bit. He jumped as Grace leaned closer, his chest aching when he realized that even with his voice raised, he was difficult to hear. He was too small, too quiet. This had to be hell.
"Kinda?" Grace repeated, raising a brow. He looked worried—it didn't suit his face. "How is something only kinda blood?"
Simon frowned and hesitantly moved out from the back corner. He tried not to pay attention to how Grace's eyes lit up as he moved closer, now directly in front of the window.
"It's blood, yeah," Simon admitted, wincing just a bit. He tried not to cower as Grace inspected him closely, his blue eyes focusing sharply behind his glasses.
"Your face… You've got- there's a bruise, here," Grace said softly, holding up a huge hand to his own face. Simon mirrored the action, pressing slightly against the tender spot.
He nodded, honestly at a loss for words.
Grace's expression shifted to one of sadness, his brows knitting together in consternation. "Are you hurt anywhere else? We can- I've got medical supplies."
He shook his head so sharply that he hurt his neck a bit. "No, I don't- you've already helped with- with the window, it's… I'm good. I'm good."
He could imagine Grace's hands on him, pressing down against his limbs with horrible, bone-snapping force. He knew that it wouldn't take much effort to break him—he was fragile, now. He wasn't used to feeling like that.
He was helpless to do anything but go still as Grace loomed ever-closer. He felt like he was already being taken apart by those intense, unwavering eyes. What was he looking for…?
"Simon, you're covered in blood," Grace said. He looked horrified—maybe because his newest little specimen was a walking, talking biohazard.
He wrapped his arms around himself. He didn't bother to protest, not when Grace could see him. He didn't want to risk angering the man, not when the drill was still within his reach.
Grace looked more worried. After a second, he reached up to run a hand through his blond hair. "Okay, um… We should get you cleaned up. I know you don't want me taking apart the ship, but…"
He didn't have an excuse for this one. Simon's throat felt tight, and he could only shake his head, numb. Why was he even trying? If Grace wanted to break open the ship, he'd do it, regardless of Simon's words.
"I'll tell you what- I'll turn on the ship's spin drive, and we can get you cleaned up in gravity," Grace finally said, giving Simon a small smile. "Does that work?"
Simon was shaking his head before his brain even registered it. Then, he went very still. "I didn't- I'm sorry, I can't… I can't do it."
He realized that he sounded pathetic, and he didn't care. He was begging for his life, he didn't need to sound dignified—and besides, maybe Grace would take pity on him. He knew, after all, that he was only prolonging the inevitable.
For whatever reason, Grace didn't look angry. His lips pressed into a thin, if worried, smile, before he finally said, "Yeah, that's… For what it's worth, I think I get it."
Simon wondered if he did. It didn't really matter, though. After a while, he finally said, very quietly, "I'm sorry."
He didn't know why he was apologizing. He wasn't on Eden anymore—fear didn't earn him any pity, and apologies didn't earn him any mercy. Life wasn't an option, but maybe death would be kinder than he'd earned.
Grace's eyes softened. Was that the way that people looked at lab rats? Or was his captor just uniquely kind?
"You don't have to apologize, Simon," Grace said, his tone gentle. It was a welcome change from his captivity with the C.O.I., maybe he would be treated well before they killed him. "It's okay. I'll, uh… Hey, maybe I can give you a washcloth and some water? Might be able to fit that through the window."
His eyes widened. Oh, that was kindness. To what end, though? But what was the game? What was he missing…?
After a few seconds, Simon nodded, very slowly.
"I'd- yes, please." He couldn't manage to say anything more, but Grace didn't seem to mind. He only smiled.
"Okay, that works. I'll be right back."