Chapter Text
I don't feel safe when I'm not alone / And I know and I know what you're thinking / I like it on my own / But I'll let you in if you say it's okay
Can You Feel The Sun (Stripped) - Missio
I've been quarantined in this room for something like weeks. I don't know how long I've been unconscious. The last thing I remember was blood flowing over me as I prayed for it all to be over.
Then I woke up to some freaky rock things in translucent geometric bubbles prodding me with needles and singing (talking? still not sure) to each other in melodic tones.
For the last however many days, my routine has been the same: wake up yelling, likely from a dream that I couldn't breathe and the thing was going to get me, and they left me down there to die...
Anyways. Wake up yelling, calm myself down enough to realize I'm in a blood-free room. Watch as one of the rocks (usually the same one, he must be the leader) checks my body, tends to my arm, and gives me food supplements with water.
Once the rock leaves, I usually doze, thinking about all the shit that I've done and wondering where the fuck I am.
Today is the first day that my routine changes.
I still wake up yelling. This time, I saw my brother getting blown up, except he didn't die. Pieces of him floated around the starless universe, stuck forever. It takes a while to shake that one out of my head enough to realize where I am.
As the door slides in, the rock comes bounding in as usual, checking me over. He seems satisfied with my progress. I guess I am too - how happy can you feel about your progress when you don't have a fucking arm anymore? I still feel it every day, throbbing.
Once the rock gives me water that I drink gratefully, he (it?) hesitates. The rock makes some trilling noises and then rolls out the door again.
I call out after it, "Hey, you could at least shut the door, bud...oh what the-"
What the fuuuck.
The rock is back, and behind him is a human.
Man.
A human man.
He has messy blond hair sticking up at every angle and glasses that are half falling off his face. He's wearing a too-tight shirt with some sort of joke I don't understand. He has awkward dimples in his cheeks as he smiles tentatively at me. He's holding some kind of device. I don't know if it's a weapon.
His eyes are really fucking blue.
Well, at least if he's here to kill me, I get a damn good sight on my way out.
Deciding to get a head start on this whole thing, I gruffly say, "Who the fuck are you?"
To my surprise, he doesn't seem offended by this. He just smiles in relief.
"Oh, thank heaven, you speak English. Wait, that sounds like I'm a xenophobe - not that you have to speak English, you can speak whatever you want, I just mean it's nice to be able to communicate with you...sorry, I know I'm rambling."
Again, what the fuck. Also, I have no clue what a "xenophobe" is.
He takes a deep breath and continues. "I'm Grace. I mean, my name is Grace."
Yeah, of course, his name means fucking 'mercy'. Figures.
"Simon," I say back.
"Cool." He seems lost now, like he didn't expect us to get this far in a conversation.
I'm about to open my mouth to ask him - I don't know what, really, any sort of questions like how did you find me, where am I? - when the rock starts talking.
Yes, talking. It's still singing, but now there is an English voice coming through a translator. It's coming from the device. Huh. I guess it's not a weapon - or it's a translator/weapon hybrid, which even I have to admit is badass.
Anyway, back to the rock. It starts rolling around frantically between us in what I can only assume is joy (I still have no clue how to read the body language on this thing). "Name is Rocky. Rocky Grace's best friend. Together, Rocky and Grace saved stars, and now Grace lives here with Rocky. Hello friend Simon. How is arm, question?"
Again, and I really cannot emphasize this enough, what the fuuuuck.
Then it hits me. Saved the stars?
"Yeah, right," I say. "And how successful was that? Saving something that didn't exist?"
Both Grace and the rock (Rocky - stupid name - was that Grace's doing?) do a double-take and look at each other in confusion.
After a moment, Grace tentatively says, "Do you mean the stars? What do you mean they don't exist?"
"They're gone. The quiet rapture, and all that. How dumb are you?" I regret the accusatory language as soon as it comes out of my mouth, but frankly, I'm too confused and angry to apologize. It's been a shit few months.
"Okay, so maybe we're from different places. In my world, the stars are alive. Or - they were about to die from a threat, but Rocky and I figured out a way to stop it." He tilts his head questioningly at me. "Are you from Earth?"
I don't know what that is. I tell him so.
"Are you from Eden? Are you the fucking COI?" I ask, guard back up. I still haven't ruled out that he - and the rock - are going to kill me as soon as I go to sleep.
Grace's face doesn't seem to register either of these as familiar terms. "I'm from Earth. It's a planet. In our universe, the stars are alive. You're on Erid - that's Rocky's home planet."
Rocky chimes in, saying, "Yes. My planet. Partner Adrian lives here, and many Eridian friends. You will meet!"
Erid. Huh.
Grace continues. "My best guess is that somehow our universes crossed over - which would be absolutely bonkers if true - Rock, the multiverse was just beginning to be studied on Earth - and the Eridians were able to find your submarine on that moon, but like, a this-universe version of your blood moon."
"It's not my blood moon," I snap.
He seems to realize the misstep. "Sorry, yeah, of course."
Sensing the need for us to calm the tension, he takes a step towards me and puts down the translator. He takes his glasses off, wipes them on his shirt, and then puts them back on again before continuing.
"I'm here because you don't have to be quarantined anymore. Rocky thinks you're safe to move into the full biodome."
"Biodome?" I ask.
"Yeah, so humans can't exist in Erid's atmosphere, so Rocky and his friends built me a biodome that has a house inside it. And a beach, and we're starting a garden, and all sorts of cool things."
A garden. I could fucking cry. Not about to do that in front of him, though, so I categorize that thought away to chew on later.
"Are you - do you think you're feeling okay enough to walk? I'd love to give you a tour," Grace says.
And yeah, sue me, I'm curious. If he's going to kill me, I'd rather be shot in front of a plant than in this grey room.
I nod. I've started to take some laps around the room and - balance aside with my arm - movement has been fairly successful.
So, we go on a tour. Grace immediately starts rambling. I have a feeling that's going to be his thing. It's cute. Rocky rolls around behind him, excitedly.
The tour is...overwhelming.
All things considered, the biodome isn't that large, but it's still a lot to take in. Grace wasn't lying about the beach. He doesn't bring me close to the water, though, which I am grateful for. The sideways glance he gives me makes me think it's intentional.
When we walk up to his house, Grace seems even more nervous. It occurs to me that he probably hasn't had another human see his space in a long time.
So far, I'm not complaining. His house is beautiful. On the outside, ivy scales the stone walls, and there are stained glass windows on either side of the front door, which is painted a deep green.
"How is that growing? The plant?" I wave my hand at the ivy, hoping he gets what I mean.
"Rocky and I figured out a way to make plants able to grow in the biodome's soil. It took a lot of experimenting, but finally, with the temperature and soil material mixture, we got there..." Grace continues rambling.
I could listen to him talk about this for hours. Partly because I still can't believe he can just grow plants whenever he wants, and partly because his rambling is endearing. I can't stop looking at the little crinkles next to the corners of his eyes as he talks, waving his hands around.
"...so yeah, there's a whole monitoring system we use to test the plant health...though you probably don't care about how we did it, sorry," Grace finishes lamely, trailing off.
I want to say, that's amazing, you're making life, how I wish I could do that, but instead I say, "I do care."
That shuts Grace up, and he smiles. "Okay. Ask me about the plants anytime. Now, do you want to come in?"
I nod. He opens the door. We walk in, and Rocky rolls in behind us.
Immediately, I want to cry. That seems to be a recurring theme over the past few weeks.
His house is beautiful. There is an open room with a couch, plants, dim hanging lanterns and lights, a beautiful green-tiled kitchen, and a dining table with elegant geometric designs. They almost look like Rocky's enclosure designs - I wonder if he helped make it.
"So, this is the living room and kitchen. I'm sorry it's small," Grace says, waving his hand across the space.
Small? I was living in a 10x10 cell with a hole for a toilet, and then transferred to a welded submarine. I decide not to kill the mood and just nod, following him as we go to the hallway on the left.
"And here," Grace points to the door on the right, "is my room. Yours is right across from it, this door on the left. There's a separate bathroom, so you don't have to share with me."
He opens what he said was my room, and it's the biggest bedroom I've ever seen in my life.
Growing up on a spaceship, rooms were small, practical, and grey.
This is anything but. It's hardly furnished but still screams warmth and comfort. There is a large wooden bed with deep green bedding, plush pillows, and soft blankets - one of which looks handmade.
I point this out to Grace, and he bashfully says, "Yeah, I went through a knitting phase," smiling fondly at Rocky while he says it.
"Annoying. Grace used to make Rocky roll yarn around protective bubble to untangle it," Rocky says through the translator.
Yeah, bud, you volunteered. Can't change the story now," Grace quips back, laughing.
As I keep looking around, I see a large wooden dresser with an ornate mirror, a nightstand with books on it, and a plush chair near the window with ivy trailing over the outside of it. I already know I'll be spending hours in that chair just watching the ivy blow in the wind.
And my bracelet is sitting on the dresser.
Immediately, I need to protect it. I snatch it off the dresser, grasping it in my hand. "Where did you get this?" I ask.
Grace looks me over questioningly. "It was on your wrist when we found you," he says. "It's yours - we're not trying to take it away from you."
I realize that I look like a wild animal hoarding a piece of food. I force my hand to relax. I still hold the bracelet for the rest of the tour. Not giving it up again.
Grace leads me to the attached bathroom, which is a large room with a toilet, sink, and shower. "Is this okay? I'm sorry, I know it's not much," Grace says from behind me.
Not much? "This is too much," I say. "You don't want to just put me in a shed, or something?"
Grace gives me a look of recognition I don't like. He's reading my self-hatred, and I don't like it.
"Yeah, no, you're not sleeping in a shed, Simon. That was never an option," he says.
"Well, this is the nicest room I've ever been in," I say. "Of course, prison is a bit hard to match this."
Rocky, silent until this point, jumps into action here.
"What does Simon mean, prison, question? Is Simon a bad human, question?"
Ah, the honeymoon phase is over. Now they get to see the warts. About time.
"Yeah, I was in prison," I say. "I fucking killed people. Got a problem with that?" I pull my body to full height, trying to hide my shaking at the admission. The words are directed at Grace even though Rocky asked.
Grace's fear is something I never want to see on another person's face again, but I know I deserve it, so I let my face harden more and lean into the persona I've learned to become.
"Ever seen someone blow up in front of you? One second they're there, and then they're just - "
Gone.
I want to keep going, but I know my facade is crumbling.
Rocky is rolling up to me in what feels like an aggressive way.
"Simon a criminal, question? Simon hurt Grace? Will not allow. Simon not welcome if he hurt Grace."
"Yeah, like I'm scared of you," I snarl at Rocky. "What are you going to do, roll into me? Fucking leave me alone."
Grace, who has been processing this discussion, jumps in here, stepping in between Rocky and me.
"Simon, whoa. Let me make this clear. I get you're probably traumatized. You might be the only human I ever see again in my life. But if you ever hurt Rocky, I have no issue with putting you back on that submarine and dropping you off on the blood moon. Got it?"
And yeah, he looks furious and hot and commanding when he says it, and yes, that's the first thing I think of.
The second thing I think of is how the last thing I want to do is hurt another person. I'm so tired of being a source of fear.
"I'm not trying to hurt Rocky," I say, taking a step back and putting up my hand in surrender. "I'm not trying to hurt either of you. Fuck."
Grace takes the peace offering and nods. "Okay, good. Rock, it's okay. Simon's been here for two weeks, and he hasn't tried to hurt us, right? His past doesn't matter as much as the person he is right now."
My past doesn't matter. Yeah, I fucking wish.
Rocky, still on edge, rolls back in surrender. "Fine. Grace not scared, so Rocky not scared of Simon. But still watching. If Simon upsets Grace, Rocky will not forgive him. Remember this, statement."
"Okay, remembered, pal," I say, just grateful that the situation didn't end with me dropkicking a rock.
Our tour continues, if not a little more tensely. Grace shows me his classroom for the pebbles, which I learn are the Eridian kids. We then drop Rocky off at his house and meet his partner, Adrian.
Adrian looks similar to Rocky but is blue and a bit larger.
I immediately like Adrian better when they say, "Nice to meet Grace friend. Simon looks better as human than Grace, statement."
Grace's visible offense at this has me turning away to hide my laugh.
When we say goodbye to Rocky and Adrian and walk back to Grace's (our?) house, we're silent. I can feel the tension.
I'm waiting for the barrage of questions to start.
But, surprisingly, all Grace does is guide me over to the final place I haven't seen yet - the greenhouse.
When Grace opens the door, and we step inside, I faintly comprehend him talking, but it's drowned out by the sight in front of me.
So much green.
Trees are growing in pots, rows of plants and fruit and vegetables that I've only heard stories about, and flowers everywhere. There are even little flowers growing out of the weeds in the cracks in the stone floor.
Grace wisely stops talking to let me take it in. I think he realizes I'm not paying attention to anything he says anyway, right now.
I don't know how long I walk through the greenhouse, touching the leaves, inspecting the ripe tomatoes, smelling the flowers.
I know I look ridiculous. Grace doesn't comment.
When I'm finally done and turn around, he doesn't look annoyed. In fact, he looks content, looking at me with a lopsided smile.
"So, Simon, I was wondering if you want to start helping Adrian in the garden here?" Grace says.
"What?" I don't know how many good things I can be blindsided with in one day. It's giving me a headache.
Grace takes my question wrong. "Oh, I mean you don't have to - I didn't mean you need to earn your keep, or anything like that. It just seems like you care a lot about the plants, and you might want to take care of them." He scratches the back of his hair awkwardly.
Damn. I really like him. That's not supposed to happen. He still might kill me. That percentage is getting lower in my head, but it's still not at 0%.
"You'd really let me?" I finally say.
Grace lights up. "Yes - of course! This" - here he gestures at not only the greenhouse but the house next to it - "is all yours. You don't need to ask to use any of it."
"Okay."
"Okay." Grace's eyes crinkle a little at the corners again. It's doing something to me.
When we head back to the house, Grace gives me some food - nutrition bars. "I don't know if your stomach can handle anything fancier," he says, apologetically.
I don't have the heart to tell him that my entire life has been a series of days ranging from starving to mildly starving, and that being full from a nutrition bar is a fucking wonder.
After I eat and drink some water, he hands me a book about plant caretaking and says he'll be out by the beach if I need him.
I think he notices how fucking tired I'm starting to feel. In my defense, it's been a long day, and I'm definitely still injured.
Possibly still concussed. That would explain a lot of this shit.
I head into my (my!) room and decide it's time to face a shower.
I was definitely rinsed off while I was unconscious, but I've not been well enough to take a full shower.
I'm dreading it because water and I haven't gotten along so well recently.
It takes me a while to find the courage to step under the spray after I turn it on. There's steam billowing in the air by the time I tentatively step in.
When the water first hits my skin, all I can feel is the blood. Rushing over me, choking me, pouring down my throat. I start shaking and grab onto the wall to steady myself. But, what seems like an eternity later, the panic subsides. Enough to fully get under the showerhead. It starts feeling neutral, then warm, then blissful.
Running my hair under hot water is not something I've experienced before. The ship's showers were always cold, and so were the prison showers - plus they were rare. But this one isn't running cold. The steam keeps wafting, and as I pop open the shampoo bottle, I smell lavender floating into the steam.
It smells like Grace. I hate that I notice that.
Washing with one hand is frustrating because I still try to use my other, my brain not realizing that my fucking stump is not going to be able to do that.
Aside from that, I get through the rest of my shower okay. It gives me hope that maybe the next one will be better.
Once I'm dry and dressed in new clothes - Grace left an assortment of shirts, shorts, jeans, pajamas, underclothes, and a jacket with me - I lie down on the bed and immediately start crying. I've been holding it in all day. It's the fucking softness of the bed that gets me, in the end. I've never felt anything like it.
I don't know what time it is when I turn off the lights and climb under the covers. All I know is that I feel clean, warm, and (relatively) safe. It doesn't take me long to fall asleep.