Chapter Text
Courtland was no stranger to cold walls and damp concrete. The same variation of the grey tone had become the most constant thing in his life a long time ago.
He knew raw pain, unfiltered and utterly destructive. He knew how to fight and how to get hit and to get thrown back and forth so many times he couldn’t even regain a sense of humanity. This was all he was doomed to be.
Utterly nothing, now and forever.
Courtland Gentry was dead. Sierra Six lay practically unresponsive on the ground of the high containment cell they had for him, deep underground. It was a horrible cell, considering the elevator that lead into it had no security measures, and Six knew that the security team at this location was infamous for not doing their job.
And so Six lay there, on his back, wallowing in his woes, and how he got to this point. 30 years of this. Fitz had saved him. Fitz was dead.
Sierra Six had no family left.
What about Courtland Gentry?
It was better nobody ever knew about Colt or Ryland. Not that much mattered with Ryland.
Courtland had cried for a week when they sent the hail mary away. Not in front of other people. But the second he was alone, the terror and destruction that buried itself in his chest clawed it’s way out through his eyes and he buried his head in his legs.
Sierra Six didn’t have emotions.
Courtland Gentry did.
Sierra Six didn’t sacrifice everything.
Courtland Gentry did.
And Ryland died anyway.
He had spent 30 years suffering, for protecting his brothers. He wouldn’t change a thing. But he still couldn’t save Ryland. Sweet Ryland, with ladybugs on his skin and kneecaps dyed green from grass, Ryland with his textbooks and Ryland laughing as Colt hit him with the hose.
Ryland crying, terrified, in the back nook of the closet because their father was home and he was loud.
Ryland who stared up at him with the love of a thousand people, Ryland who suffered endlessly.
Colt was no better.
He wasn’t brave. He wasn’t a coward, but every one of his movements were filled with fear. Colt, covered in bruises, standing in front of Ryland. Colt that looked at Courtland like he held the secrets to the universe.
Courtland, that carried Colt on his shoulders and pretended to know what Ryland’s rants meant.
Courtland held no regret. Sierra Six held no regret. Not a molecule in his body went to what he did. Not when he saw Ryland see the gun for the last time, and the softness in him dissipating, covered by fear. Not when he saw Colt eye the window.
Fight or Flight.
That was how everyone described it.
It would never have to fall to them.
Courtland wanted nothing more than to see them again. Sierra Six never wanted to ever see them again. So he didn’t have to face the fact he had left them alone. That he had let Ryland leave. That everything that had happened, he wasn’t there for.
Courtland wondered how Claire was doing.
He used his thumb to trace the numbers on the side of his pointer finger.
She was alone now. She was just as alone as Colt and Ryland had been, and she didn’t have a sibling with her.
Courtland’s heart siezed. It was far too late to save Colt or Ryland. But Claire was only 12. She had nothing left. Only him. Only Six.
He forced himself off the floor, coarse palm against rough concrete, tearing and still firm.
They’d be coming back to visit him again. To see if they had damaged his brain, or if he was laying there out of will. Six’s stomach clenched with hunger, and he moved past it.
There was a solid chance that his method of escaping would get him flattened into a pancake, but he could take that chance.
~~~
Courtland was really, really bad at driving.
No mind, he was better at sneaking in. The record and the earplugs wouldn’t be enough, but as long as she remained safe.
The house was desolate. There was no ounce of personality or warmth in it. Six’s childhood home had had more life than this.
Granted, it was an ironic sentence considering most of the lives inside of it had been removed.
There was about a 20 minute escape window, he deduced. They would be looking for him, but the CIA was going to take a second. Thank god they were lazier than the FBI.
For what it was worth, they did have food. A blessing, to both Six and Courtland. He tore into an orange more like an animal than a genuine human. Throwing boxes of food into the duffel bag, and wolfing down whatever he could in the limited amount of time, the blaring sound of a television playing in the background.
He hadn’t paid it any mind while he was killing the other men, but the sound was loud and piercing now that he wasn’t tuning it out.
"Good Evening, I'm Sandra Newcomb and with the International Space Update Station. We're reporting to you folks in Alburqueque, New Mexico. Today is May 4th, 2026. Our updating top story tonight is that of the impossible return of the spacecraft the Hail Mary, carrying with it 4 passengers, just 5 months after the beetles and video capsules recorded by Doctor Captain Ryland Grace returned.”
Six was gone with the wind. Courtland focused all his attention on the television as orange rind slipped from his lips.
"First, to our breaking headline story. Not much is known to the public about the return of the Hail Mary, only that 3 unidentified personel and Doctor Ryland Grace were aboard. They crashed into the atlantic ocean just three days ago, into where the Chantal Ice Platform was forming, though the heat from the re-entry has said to have decimated this ice formation, and warmed the ocean in that spot to pre-astrophagic crisis temperatures. The crew inside the space vessel were rescued 12 hours after descent, and transported to a location undisclosed to the public, likely to recieve medical treatment. The people have taken to the streets with cheers and cries for this miracle, for Ryland Grace, the savior of the solar system. Local schools and government buildings are overrun with gifts to be delivered to Doctor Grace, so you may expect a small delay on your mail. The story is still updating as we speak. On the topic of space, David Hollins is working with some of the most renowned petrova task force, who are preparing the 7th probe to deliver a new batch of taumoeba to Venus. To you, David Hollins."
The rest of the sound was tuned out. They were extremely far from New Mexico, being in Virginia, and the grainy footage showed it was clearly running on something that was showing external channels, but that didn’t change what was being shown. An old re-run of the news or not, there was only one person named Ryland Grace.
There had only ever been one. He smashed the tv, ignoring the tears welling in his eyes.
Six made his way to the sound of Silver Bird playing.
Three knocks.
She was crying on the ground when he opened the door. His throat was choked and he resisted everything in him telling him to sob, for any reason.
“Am I allowed to chew gum in here?” He asks, and her eyes land on him and she shoots up, wrapping her arms around him.
Courtland let himself relish the hug for several moments. Six picked up Claire, throwing the records and the few other things they seemed to have given her into the bag.
She seemed to realize that they were leaving as Six carried her out of the house, and she stared at the car and the long driveway away.
“Mr. Six.”
“Yeah?” He replied, trying his best to make sure his tone didn’t come off as rude or destructive. She was just a kid.
“Where are we going?”
Six set Claire down on the ground. Courtland opened the door and thought.
“I think.” He paused, and she looked at him. “I think we’ll go see some family.”
Ryland. Colt, too. Claire was his family now. They didn’t have anyone else, and despite whatever risks she might bring, he could protect her. He’d get her the best life he could, however he could.
~~~
Colton Seavers stepped off the plane, sick to his stomach with nerves and confusion.
Should he buy flowers? You got those things for people in a hospital, right?
He walked to the hospital, 30 minutes from the airport. True to the pictures, Switzerland was beautiful. He had no euros on him, but he paid with venmo for some sunflowers and… other flowers. Colt wasn’t going to pretend like he recognized any of the flowers other than the tulips and sunflowers. But they were pretty.
Hopefully it would do a good enough job.
What was Colt even going to say?
“Hey, what’s up? I know you’re the saviour of the universe and all, but it turns out I’m your twin brother you didn’t know you had- or I hope you didn’t- and also I’m a pathetic loser?”
Yes, this was sure to win him over.
He wasn’t even sure he was going to have to explain the twin thing. It was uncanny. Jody would have laughed. She loved Ryland Grace. She loved space in general, and the way she spoke about the noble cause of the project hail mary, she was sure to freak out.
It was fucked up to use your apparent twin brother’s status to get back together with your ex after you ghosted her because you didn’t want to burden her when you broke your back, right? Yeah. Definitely fucked up.
They recognized him at the door. Hilarious. One of the nurses did a double take, but there was a tall guy there, introduced himself as Carl.
“Colton Seavers?” He said.
“The only one.” He said, with a choked laugh, and he was sure he was panicking, and man he really felt like throwing up.
“Follow me.” Carl had directed, and with the given lack of literally anything else to do, Colt followed. “I should warn you, he’s got a pretty severe concussion and is still readjusting to being on earth.”
Colt did laugh again.
“If you’re worried about him not remembering me, don’t worry. I didn’t even know I had a brother until about 24 hours ago.”
Carl’s forehead knots, but they’re stood outside a glass room, with three people inside. Someone carrying a gun, presumably in case of break in, a man that Colt has never seen before, with long black hair and stubble, comatose on a bed, and far at the other end, a person he can only assume is Ryland.
They’re drawing on a whiteboard, a large diagram of what looked like an Eridian, and a human, several photos taped to it that Colt couldn’t make out from here.
“You’re never going to meet him if you stand here.” Carl says, and he raises an eyebrow at Colt, and Colt laughs and gives him finger guns, which he immeadiately regrets, but he knocks gently on the door, and pushes it open.
“Carl?” Ryland asks, and it sounds like Colt’s voice. It’s got a lower timber, but it’s the same voice Colt can’t stand hearing on old videos, same perkiness when he’s happy. God. It’s uncanny. “Would you mind getting me some paperclips? I’m trying to format potential resolutions for cases of blood- er- Mercurium loss, but I don’t have any-”
When Colt was staring, pulling everything away from tuck tail and running, and not saying, Ryland turned around, presumably to see why Carl wasn’t responded.
The expo marker dropped out of Ryland’s hand.
“Who are you?” He asks, and Colt fumbles with the flowers, offering them out.
“Uh.” He says. “Colt. Colton. Seavers. Colton is my full name. But nobody calls me that.” He has no idea what he’s saying. He feels like he’s in high school and he’s trying to make friends all over again.
“You look like me.” Ryland says, an astute observation. “You sound like me. Did they give me hallucinogenetics? No, I’ve been keeping track, I know that the more drugs you take when you return to earth the harder it is-” He pauses, and he looks back up at Colt.
Colt scuffs his shoes, and looks down. His Miami Vice jacket sits tight around his shoulders.
“I’m your brother. Twin. I think they said that. Uh. Sorry.” He apologized, and Ryland’s eyes went wide. “I only found out yesterday. I- I didn’t know I had any family.”
Ryland was frozen. Colt panicked. Ryland fumbled for a chair, and Colt grabbed one to slide underneath him. Colt did not feel like having the astronaut of all time die under his watch.
There was the click of the door behind him, and Colt turned to see that the bodyguard or whoever it had been had left.
Colt set the flowers down on the table next to the sleeping man, and Ryland was still frozen, head in his hands.
“Sorry.” He apologized again. He didn’t know what for.
Ryland spoke.
“Can- Can I hug you?” He asked, and he was crying when Colt looked at him next, and Colt nodded his head. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had a hug anyway.
Ryland’s grip was firm, clutching and digging into Colt’s back, and Colt held him back, and Ryland smelled like hospital and expo and tea and saline. He couldn’t imagine he normally smelled like that.
They held each other for a very, very long time.
Ryland sobbed into Colt’s shoulder. Colt let some tears slip out too. Alone. He wasn’t alone. A brother. He had a brother.
He had a brother that was painstakingly human, and just as hurt as Colt was.
Ryland pulled away, and wiped his tears on his cardigan arm as he coughed and looked away.
“Sorry. The only people I’ve had to hug in the last 60 years or so were Simon and Rocky, who are great, don’t get me wrong- but.” He paused. “Are you sure?” He asked.
“Other than the fact that I saw you on the tv and it flickered off and I could still see you in my own reflection? They said it was a DNA match. That’s the only reason I knew.” He repeated.
Ryland sat down again.
“Please tell me I can use you to shove it in Eva’s face.” Was the next thing Ryland said, with the tone of laughter, and Colt tilted his head like a confused cat, and Ryland looked at him and laughed even harder. “I haven’t slept in like 7 hours and I’m super drugged right now, excuse me.” Ryland says through giggles and more tears, but not as sad.
“Are you alright?” Colt asks, terrified. He’s a stuntman, for all hell’s sake. He has no idea whether or not this is risky, if Ryland is sick or not.
“I’m happier than I have been in a long, long time.”
Oh. What a thing to hear.
“Do you like talking?” Ryland asks him. Colt shrugs.
“I don’t know. I don’t talk to many people.”
Ryland laughed again.
“I’ve been talking to a sentient space rock- multiple, and one other human, as well as Mary, for years. Just because you’ve got nobody to talk to, doesn’t mean you can’t talk.” He says, and it’s obvious even now that he was a teacher.
“I saw your video logs.” Colt deadpanned. He knew about Rocky. They were good friends. Ryland smiled at him, and it was toothy, and it was softer than Colt’s smiles were. His smiles were full of teeth, but pointed, and smirking most of the time.
“Carl mentioned they got back a few months before I did.” Ryland remarked, and Colt nodded. He felt awkward.
“How did you get back?” He asked, the only thing that was coming to mind.
Ryland looked away, and shrugged.
“I don’t know. I was on Erid on day, the next i’m experiencing what it feels like to go through 25,000 kelvins of heat in a metal box and then the next I’m in a hospital. It’s beyond me.”
He doesn’t seem concerned. He doesn’t seem concerned at all about this fact, this miracle of nothingness. 20 light years away, that’s what the media said. Dead or Alive, they didn’t know. But Ryland Grace was much further away than he could have ever been. And then he wasn’t. And nobody was concerned.
“Do you want me to talk about it? What it was like up there?” Ryland asks, after Colt trails off into thought, thinking everything through.
No, Colt doesn’t want to hear.
He knows that whatever Ryland did up there, it was devastating. He knows it took him years to get back on his feet. He knows that Ryland was alone, completely and painfully alone, and Colt didn’t even know or care. He’s seen the video logs. He knows the basics.
“No.”
Ryland looks somewhat taken aback.
“Talk about before?” He asks, and Ryland smiles.
“How much do you want to hear?” Ryland asks, and Colt’s got some years to catch up on.
“As much as you want to tell me.”
~~~
The lights are bright even behind Simon’s eyelids. His body feels limp, asleep.
He can hear voices, but they’re not distinguishable. He can hear Ryland, his tone of voice every once in a while, and Simon is very, very tired.
Still, he manages to move his hand just a bit, reaching out towards where his ears pick up the sound. There’s a second pause, and then there’s the feeling of Ryland’s hand in his. He knows it’s Ryland’s. The feeling of his palm and the creases of his skin are more intimately familiar to Simon than anything else.
Ryland squeezes his hand.
He’s here. Simon is safe.
The lights are bright, and Simon is tired. The voices lull him to sleep.
~~~
Bonus
~~~
“Are you two… together?” Colt gestures to Ryland, and the man in the bed. Simon, he supposes. He’s pretty sure the guys name is Simon, from what Ryland’s said.
They’re holding hands, after Simon made some quiet noises and outstretched his hand towards Ryland, who grabbed it.
In a split second, Ryland’s demeanor flips from the warm, smart man that Colt is getting to know as his brother, to someone defensive and afraid.
“Yes. Is there an issue?” He asks, and Colt knows that voice too. He’s angry.
Oh.
He thinks Colt is homophobic.
Colt startles back, putting his hands up in the air, shaking his head fervently.
“Oh-” He pauses, eyes wide. “Not at all. I’m Bi- I think? I had this fling with Tom Ryder- and obviously there was highschool- we all know what high school was like-” He rambles, and he doesn’t know why he admits to the thing with Tom Ryder, that bastard, and he groans into his hands, and there’s a few seconds of silence before Ryland laughs again.
“Who’s Tom Ryder?” He asks, and Colt looks up with he can only assume is an acidic expression, and Ryland starts laughing all over again.