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Whenever Rocky sleeps, Grace is reminded of how quiet the Hail Mary used to be. Before... everything.
There's only the slight rumble of astrophage-fueled engines, the occasional snap or crackle from the structures, or a beep from one of the multiple systems keeping the ship running. No patter of five feet against the xenonite tunnels, or other eridian noises: Rocky's ambient low hums and clicks as he sharpens his perception of his surroundings, the light clink of his tools as he works on his current project, the sometimes endless onslaught of conversation bids Grace is certain he would've gone completely mad without.
How did he survive before Rocky? Or that brief window of time before he knew that turning back to help his best friend and save his planet was well worth over whatever he had waiting for him on Earth. Was worth dying for.
He's roused from his thoughts when he realizes he's once again running his thumb over the scarring on his arm, Rocky's three digits imprinted on his skin; something he's taken to doing a lot these days. First unconsciously, but then at one point he noticed he's doing it whenever he finds himself idle. The pain is long gone (a sensation he really doesn't miss), there's only the healed mark. Proof they've been in genuine physical contact. Most likely the first and last time he'll ever get to experience it, and he was passed out the whole time.
Grace sighs, looks at the paralyzed body of his friend. Now he's consciously touching the scar, gently brushing his fingertips over and around it and paying great attention to the shivers it awakens along his arm, up to his shoulders, frayed nerve-endings working hard to transmit the touch further. His palm follows that path until he's rubbing his right shoulder and the side of his neck, fingers pressing into the knots in the muscles born from hours of hunching over lab equipment. Not exactly a replacement for another person's touch, but soothing enough. It'll have to be enough.
He could get up, go to the lab and play around with something unnecessary to pass the time and come back after a while, check on Rocky and then repeat that until he wakes. But after getting caught doing that once and facing his surprisingly long-lasting disgruntlement, Grace knows better. He won't betray his trust again. And... while also finding the act of doing nothing quite terrifying, he's doing his best to get used to it.
So, he leans his shoulder against the xenonite and thinks back on a conversation they had earlier.
-
They're spending time in the Mental Health Node, looking at Grace's favorite view, the foggy beach. This time their conversation is about their respective cultures, as it often is these days. When you're all done with saving your and your friend's planets and have years' worth of travel left to reach your destination, small talk doesn't really cut it anymore.
Rocky's told him the basics of their communities — their thrums — and the different purposes they serve. Grace knows how their courtship works, the Eridians' cultural norm of having multiple mates at once, how family communities often house multiple generations in one dwelling. But Rocky hasn't gotten to the specifics of him and Adrian yet, and Grace is curious. Despite his own indifference, he usually hasn't minded hearing about other people's romantic endeavors, especially those he's close with; if anything, it's kept the attention away from his lack thereof.
"How did you meet?"
"Still quite young. Not in profession thrum yet, both still learning. Adrian learning environmental science, Rocky learning engineering. Met in community celebration."
Ah, the classic get-together at a college party. Grace smiles at the concept. "That's fun."
"No, first Adrian thinks Rocky too loud. Rocky thinks Adrian too... need word. ♩♫♭♪♪. When someone thinks so much and so many thing, they forget. Pay no attention, or pay attention to wrong thing."
Grace thinks for a beat. "Scatterbrained?"
"Yes! Adrian too scatterbrained. But had lots in common, interest in science, in how things on Erid work. Learned to understand each other better." Rocky runs his claw over the gemstone embedded in one of his arms, the Eridian equivalent of fidgeting with one's wedding ring. His voice rises a bit, but the melodies turn slower; Grace decides to read it as him being bashful. Or perhaps affectionate. "Over time, grew closer. Wanted Adrian near all the time, wanted to share space with them. Rocky offered gift first, Adrian accepted and gave their gift to Rocky. Then mates ever since."
"That's even better. Taking your time. A lot of people wouldn't do that."
Putting in the effort of truly getting to know someone and not just immediately giving up when they can't understand you...
"Maybe. Not sure if Adrian waited for Rocky. Long time to be alone, understand if they found another mate by now. Before leaving..." Rocky trails off, and his carapace sinks just the tiniest bit, but Grace notices it. "Talked a lot about offspring, ready for it when Rocky comes back. But now Adrian could have offspring with someone else."
Grace gently bumps his shoulder against Rocky's ball. "They sound quite committed. I don't think you have anything to worry about."
Rocky answers with an uncertain hum, very similar to Grace's, when he doesn't really believe what he's being told but wants to be polite enough.
They stare at the looping video of the beach, both in their own way. Lost in thought. For all their talking, they both also like to experience moments of stillness together.
"Now Grace talk," Rocky eventually says, taps the wall of his ball once, and Grace imagines it as a casual arm draped over his shoulder. A concept so distant, he's not sure it used to be a real thing he once got to experience. "Grace say one mate back on Earth, but no mate when leaving. Sad."
A twist near Grace's gut, familiar sensation when approaching this topic from his point of view.
"Eh, don't feel sorry. It wasn't... a priority for me, I guess. I was focused on academia, then teaching happened. It was fulfilling and kept me busy. I figured I'd find someone eventually, but... I don't feel that strongly about it," he explains with a shrug, keeping his gaze in the digital ocean, on the pixelated human walking along the shoreline, never getting close enough for him to see what they look like. "It's not like I could've gone back to them after all this anyways, so... It's better like this."
After getting chewed out by Linda for treating their relationship more like a roommate situation (and being perfectly content with that) than something romantic, he also partly lost interest. The idea of showing someone what kind of companionship he was looking for and being rejected because of it was... an experience he didn't feel like repeating again too soon. But Rocky doesn't need to know that right now.
You don't even have a dog.
Stratt's words come to him as a lightning bolt, coursing through his entire nervous system.
A truth, yes, but twisted to mean something else. Cold understanding crawled over him then; to everyone else in the room, he had the most to give and the least to lose. What he felt, what he wanted out of the remaining years of his life on Earth, wasn't enough.
Grace looks up and blinks harshly to ward off any potential tears in the corner of his eyes and takes a deep, intentional breath to distance himself from the memory, though it still stays present in his body; an undercurrent of unease he's well-acquainted with.
Rocky makes a strumming noise of acknowledgment to draw Grace's attention back to him.
"Understand. Some Eridians like that. Family, friend, profession thrum enough. No mate or offspring."
Grace feels... Not exactly relief — the unease doesn't leave him — but something similar to appreciation rises to keep it company. "Huh. That's nice."
"Yes. All Eridians important for community," Rocky vocalizes, his sound at first serious, until the tone shifts and turns more reassuring. "Grace not alone on Erid even if no mate. Rocky always there to keep company. Many Eridian want to talk to Grace!"
"I'm sure I'll be very popular," Grace chuckles. "I'd be honored if you still wanna hang out with me after we get there. I get it if you want some time with Adrian first."
"No, must start Grace habitat build immediately."
The insistence and care Rocky displays over looking after him sometimes goes beyond Grace's comprehension. He doesn't really know how to feel about it, hasn't actually processed the fact that one day they'll reach Erid and if all goes well, he'll get to set up shop there amongst thousands of Eridians. If he doesn't die from malnutrition while they're trying to figure out ways to keep him alive, that is. He keeps those potentially spiral-worthy thoughts in the nice messy corner at the back of his mind and has for the time being decided to treat the upcoming arrival like a fun fantasy.
But if it really does happen, Rocky is correct about needing to start the project right away. It's a good thing they've also started brainstorming about it — or droning, as Rocky would call it.
"Do you think your guys could try their hand at making a beach?"
"Multiple hands will try and succeed at making beach!"
Rocky's eager trill makes Grace lean against the xenonite again, and the thump of his friend's heavy body slumping next to him on the other side of the wall feels even better than the idea of a potential fantasy beach stretching out ahead of him, somewhere in the future.
-
Grace comes back to the present, lifts his gaze from his shoes. He decides to try something.
He fogs up the transparent xenonite with his breath. Onto it he draws a star, then another.
The squeak of a fingertip against xenonite awakens a memory — or rather, a collection of them, short flashes of him drawing the very same thing onto the mirror in his childhood bathroom, then to a car window, then to the window of his first apartment he lived in on his own. A way to leave a mark that'd stay behind on a molecular level, even when the fog fades.
Next, he tries drawing Saturn, a sphere with a circle around it. Not too bad. Then a relatively detailed rendition of taumeba. He's looked at it so much through his microscope that he could recite its molecular structure in his sleep — and has. It wasn't a particularly enjoyable dream.
After that, he watches the fog slowly disappear, taking more time than usual thanks to the heat from the other side of the xenonite. But not before scribbling two hearts into it. The first one he does hastily, almost as if scared of getting caught. The second one he puts more effort into, draws it slowly, decorates it with a classic arrow through it.
A heavy weight settles near his precordinum, and he sets his palm on the xenonite. As close to Rocky as possible. Grace imagines his body's ridges and grooves beneath his fingers, the intricate carvings of his name and profession and the Petrova line, the smoothness of the turquoise stone evidence of his connection to Adrian. Instead of burning heat the Eridian would be only pleasantly warm, like a boulder warmed by sunlight.
Rocky is radiating sunlight, taulight, like a small star of his own, caught between his palms. His to look but not touch, his to cherish the warmth and the closeness without crossing that line. He was waiting for Grace even before he was born, right by the Petrova line that led them together across lightyears.
For a while, they were two distant celestial bodies, calling out into the ether. By some miracle, they heard each other, and now they're here.
Grace gets swept up in emotions he can't, and doesn't want to separate from each other. Great care, love, and sorrow in every corner of his body, burning in his throat, prickling behind his eyes.
His tears have subsided and his little doodles have all faded by the time Rocky begins to stir, and rouses back to life. It takes a few minutes of little whirrs and clicks as his body boots back up. Grace still hasn't taken his hand off the xenonite.
"G'morning, Rock. Sleep well?"
"Sleep same as always." Rocky's tone is a bit harsher, as it often is right after waking. He holds out his two legs and stretches, shakes each leg. He then senses Grace's hand against his tunnel. "What's Grace doing, question?"
"Thought you'd like to start your day with a little tapping game."
Rocky makes a sound of suspicion, but lifts one of his hands against the panel. Grace taps his two of his fingers on the glass, and Rocky copies it.
They repeat this for a few turns, and Grace chuckles while Rocky wriggles his carapace and chirps.
Another memory resurfaces, but this time it's chronologically quite close to this moment, in the grand scheme of things.
"Remember when you'd dropped me off that oxygen-gift and tried pointing at it through the xenonite wall, and I thought you were just tapping?"
"Of course remember. Grace very stupid then. Did not understand. Only kept tapping." Through a silent understanding, it becomes Rocky's turn to initiate the tapping, and Grace mimics his two taps with one finger, three taps with two. Rocky's voice has an almost bouncy cadence to it, an evident sign of amusement. "Called Grace many names."
"Well, pardon me for getting excited about first contact with an alien! I had no time to look around."
Now they're both pleased, Grace's hearty grin mixed with Rocky's high-pitched ripple of a laugh.
"Not first contact,” Rocky corrects between his snickering, taps the wall once more. “At least fifth time in contact at that point."
“Fair enough. But don’t deny that you were also excited.”
“Yes. Excited to show how well Rocky made Grace atmosphere.”
Now there’s noise and sound in the ship again, and Grace is content.