Chapter Text
Rocky has never known light. He’s never known darkness, either, to be entirely fair. He knew the concept inside and out, he’d spent years having it taught to him by Grace, but he’d never seen it.
Rocky knew love. He knew warmth, aside from heat, and he knew excitement and he knew fear and terror and grief and happiness and inconsolable despair.
Rocky knew Adrian, knew their faint outlines, the ridges of their carapace, the way their feet sounded when they walked, the melody of their song, the way they slotted together as Rocky slept.
Rocky knew Grace. He was loud, and chaotic. There was constantly a thousand sounds coming from him at any point, and his steps echoed in the dark like a guiding light. He knew his language, and he knew the sweetness of the fast heartbeat that came from Grace.
Begrudgingly, Rocky knew Simon. Grace made jokes about “Rocky and the other human he didn’t want” but he had never explained, even when Rocky asked, and so he took it as some stupid human thing. He knew Simon’s slow heartbeat, it’s brief quickenings when he grew afraid. He knew him by the sound of his low breaths, or the way his entire being seemed to yearn for Grace.
These were the fundamentals of everything Rocky needed. He didn’t need light. He didn’t need darkness, or colour, or taste or “real touch” or 5 fingers and four limbs, or wet gross human stuff. Just this.
Unfortunately, Rocky has the luck of a very unlucky Rocky.
When Rocky first opens the eyes he shouldn’t have, he is bombarded with the absolute BURN of light. That’s what it must be. Rocky’s never seen light before, but what else could it be?
It’s white, and it burns like nothing comparable. Rocky can’t feel the way he’s supposed to, and he moves to let out an upset trill, only to find his gas bags aren’t there either. There’s someting, and he can command it, and it makes a similar noise, but it doesn’t rumble, it strings, and it feels weird.
There is the shine of something, and thank god for Grace, because there is no thoughts on what else this could possibly be. There are vague outlines, and that is something that Rocky knows, even if it’s different. Outlines. Shapes.
They’re jagged, and unfamiliar. Rocky can’t hear them, but he can hear a high pitched sound he can only compare to a scream. There is a beep, repeating over and over like a pattern. He knows this too, because it was on the Hail Mary. It is what surronds Grace when Grace was hurt, when Rocky needed to fix it.
There is more noise, and less screaming. The outlines are moving. Where is Grace? Adrian? Simon? Who is watching him sleep? He does not trust these outlines, who are they? Where is he? Why is nothing right? Where is Grace?
A noise, one that Rocky knows. English, Human Language. Rocky knows it by heart, but they’re speaking weirdly, and it doesn’t make sense. There’s plastic gloves that go under the shine that is preventing the burn of the white from hitting him directly.
There is pain. They’re touching him. They’re hurting him.
Rocky screams. He has a mouth, apparently. And so he screams.
~~~
There’s a gentle hum of a voice Simon knows well. It’s nudging him on his shoulder, speaking quietly.
“Simon.” It says. The afterlife, he supposes.
At least Ryland was here.
Oh. That’s who it was. Ryland.
“My Harmony, you gotta wake up.” Ryland says, and Simon blinks blearily. The lights are bright, and blinding him, and he’s blinking fast.
He can see Ryland sat next to him, smiling. He looks young, and is wearing a cardigan that Simon’s never seen before.
Ryland is grinning, and Simon wants to smile back, because his Ryland is happy. Ryland sees him for two more seconds before shaking with laughter and trying so hard to keep the hand that is holding Simon’s balanced with the one holding a cup of water.
“Oh my gosh you are so high right now.” He giggles, which confuses Simon. There’s no reason for him to be high. He hasn’t gotten hurt recently. Ryland is staring at him, and still smiling. If Ryland is smiling, everything must be ok. “Can you drink this for me?” Ryland says, and there’s a straw in the glass of water.
Of course he can.
Ryland nurses it under him while Simon drinks, and it is colder and harsh and more enticing than any water he has ever had before.
The water on eden was clean, but that was it. Safe for human consumption. It was chunky, ish. It never slid over your tongue smoothly.
The water that Ryland had first given him tasted dry, and sweet. Ryland said they added extra vitamins, electrolytes, so that he could heal faster. Simon didn’t know what those were. He liked it.
The normal Erid water was wonderful. Plain, sometimes cold, sometimes hot. The same as the ocean, as Simon assumed.
Nothing compared to this. Where on earth had they gotten it. He felt starstruck.
Ryland was grinning at him, and staring in a way of pure adoration.
“Mineral water. Cold, Mineral Water. One of my favourite drinks, I think. I’m going to make you try so many types of water.” Ryland spoke, and Simon furrowed his brow as he swallowed it fast.
There was only one type of water. Sure, Ryland had explained how technically ocean water wasn’t drinkable on Earth, but Simon hadn’t really believed him. They just had so much of it.
His eyes slowly adjusted to the enviroment around him as he drank, and the next realization that he had was that he was in a ton of pain. It hurt. It wasn’t really as bad as the iron lung, no, but it felt like he had been rescued by Ryland and had to recover all over again.
The straw slipped from his mouth and he groaned in pain and agony, and Ryland frowned, Simon could feel the frown even though his eyes still felt glossy, and he reached over and pressed a button. There was a shuffling sound, and more noise that Simon either couldn’t see or couldn’t place.
A figure just outside of Simon’s ever-returning vision appeared, and spoke.
“Weren’t you just saying how being loaded up on drugs makes it harder to readjust?” They said, and holy shit they sounded like Ryland. Well, Ryland if he was an avid smoker and way less cool. They move over, and they’re stood behind Ryland. They look like Ryland.
None of this was real.
Not-Ryland had the same face structure, but his hair was extremely fucked up. The remnants of a beard on his face where Ryland was obsessed with keeping himself clean shaven almost all of the time, and a different kind of blue in his eyes. It was the same shade of blue, but it was still different. They weren’t Ryland’s eyes.
“Wh’t the fuck?” Simon managed to get out, and he pulled his hand out of Ryland’s, who let it go, to grab at Not-Ryland’s face. He didn’t like this. He was squishier than Ryland, and Simon could definitely crush his head if he proved to be a threat. Ryland seemed to be ok, seemed to be happy, and it was ok for now, but what the fuck?
Ryland laughed.
“Simon? You with me?” Ryland asked gently, smirking in a way that he knew something that Simon didn’t. Simon turned to look at him, and Ryland bit his lip to keep from laughing again.
“He’s definitely somewhere.” Not-Ryland said.
Ryland choked on a laugh.
“Sorry. Sorry. Si, this is my twin brother.” He spoke slowly, and Simon blinked slowly. Twin? It was when there was multiple of one person, right? Ryland had explained this, one time, when he found out that Simon didn’t get much (any) education. “His name is Colt.” Ryland told him.
Colt. His tongue felt like lead, and also, Simon didn’t want to say it. He preferred normal Ryland. Not Not-Ryland Colt.
He looked at Ryland with the one thing he had an answer for.
“Mitos’s?” He asked, and it took less than 5 seconds for Not-Ryland Colt to start laughing, and another few for Ryland to bite his lip so hard he drew blood and tears welled up in his eyes.
“There has got to be a video of this.” Ryland mumbled under his breath, while using his hands to soothe the blankets around Simon. Simon’s arm had fallen limp at some point and he hadn’t noticed, and his fingers felt funny.
He lifted his arm up, moving it under the light.
“Th’re are ligh’bulbs on my fing’rs, Ry-land..” He said, and then started crying. This was devastating. Who had put them there? Why were they there? He only had one working arm left, and they put lights on his hand? How was he supposed to be helpful now.
There was more distant laughter outside of Simon’s crying, and Ryland was there comforting him.
“Don’t worry about that, Si. It’s ok. You get some sleep, and I’ll take them off. Can you do that for me?” Ryland asked, and Simon sniffled and nodded as Ryland tucked him in.
He was out in mere seconds.
~~~
The second Simon’s eyes had closed and the heartbeat monitor evened out, Ryland hunched over and laughed so hard he genuinely cried.
“Is-” Colt started, matching Ryland almost exactly, though he’d been laughing for longer. “Is he always like this?” This made Ryland laugh even harder.
Carl opened the door at all the noise, presumably to make sure everything was ok, and looked entirely baffled by what was happening. Colt gave a thumbs up, and Ryland did too, but on instinct gave a thumbs down, a habit that had built up over decades. He realized, and flipped it.
“No- No!” Ryland cry-laughed and Colt was taking heaving breaths. “He is so unbelievably high, oh my gosh.” Ryland wiped his tears off his face, trying to even his breathing out. “Oh my gosh. I don’t think I’ve laughed like that in years. He really was not built for morphine, holy shit.”
“Cal-” Colt started, before frowning, and having Carl reply first.
“It’s Carl.”
“My bad. Carl, are there video tapes in here?”
Carl smirked and raised an eyebrow.
“You’re in one of the world’s most prestigious hospitals stood next to the saviour of the universe while they’re keeping literal aliens upstairs. You’ve never been more watched in your entire life, Mr. Seavers.”
Ryland and Colt both just stared at him.
“Well, that’s horrifying.” Ryland said and whistled.
“You- You can call me Colt, if you want?” He said, seeming to be at a lack for anything else to say.
Carl doesn’t even acknoledge him. It’s not harsh, Ryland knows this Carl, and Colt will too. He hopes so.
They get along well. Frighteningly well. They both seemed terrified that the other would hate them for the first little while, and then that feeling faded into nothingness as they grew aware with how familiar they were.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the sun.” Ryland commented, sat at the window in one of the world’s shittiest hospital chairs. You’d think they’d have better ones, but no.
“It’s still here.” Colt said. “It waited for you.”
“After what I did for it? I’d hope so.” Ryland joked, and Colt’s lips tilted up. “Where did you grow up?”
“That’s a tough question. San Fransico, before I was put into protective care, and then all over. Never stayed in one place for long.”
“We must have known each other, before. I mean, I can’t really be mad at my 7 year old self for forgetting that I had a whole brother, but I’m pretty mad.”
“I think I knew, somewhat. Maybe. It’s hard to tell. There are nights where I remember things better than the next. My therapist said that trauma can cancel out memories if it’s horrifying enough.”
“That makes sense. I always stayed around San Fran. It’s where I taught my kids, before all of this.”
Colt hummed under his breath in a way so distinctly Ryland that anyone who didn’t know the two would have assumed he picked it up from him.
“Beach day, after this? When you can walk stable and your boyfriend’s not passed out and we’re not being stalked by 100 government agents?”
“I think the government agents are here to stay. Hazard of the job.” There was silence. “But yes. Please. Don’t tell Rocky this, but the Erid beach wasn’t all that close to Earth’s beaches. It was nice. Similar, but still distinctly not-Earth.”
Colt nodded like he knew Rocky well enough to even consider telling him what Ryland had said.
There was a quiet grief in him that had been quelled with Colt’s presence. One that he didn’t even knew existed. His head had long forgotten, but his heart never did. They probably held each other as children, and even when Simon held Ryland, or Rocky hugged Grace, it wasn’t the same as what his body had learned to love. They could never be Colt, and he could never blame them for that.
But now he was here. He was here and he had everything he wanted.
~~~
Ryland woke up to warm sheets, the beep of Simon’s heart monitor, the distant rushing of the air conditioning, and Colt snoring. He’d been brought a “visitor bed” which was simply a mattress, pillow, and some blankets, and he had accepted it. Carl passed out on the couch some hours earlier, as he wasn’t supposed to even work this long, his shift had ended hours ago, but was no longer there to work.
There was a rush of words coming from outside the room, and Ryland pulled himself out of the warm blankets and into the cold air to see what it was about. He felt dizzy upon putting his feet down, and it felt wrong to step onto tile and not the mock-hardwood of his Erid home. Simon wasn’t behind his back, rather in front of him in a seperate bed, and Rocky wasn’t banging the door down.
Hilariously, Ryland missed Armando. He wonders if they’d let him take it.
He goes for the door, to step outside. At the same time, the door swings inward, hitting Ryland directly in the face.
Stumbling back with a groan of loud pain, he makes sure his nose isn’t bleeding as Dr. Vogel stares at him with horror.
“Dr. Grace!” She exclaims, making sure he was ok as her first priority. He gave her a thumbs up, and while it hurt like hell, there was no blood, and his nose had been broken enough times to be strong now.
“I’m good!” He says, looking over his shoulder to make sure neither Colt nor Carl had woken up. They were both still passed out. With how badly hurt Simon was, he shouldn’t wake up for another 12 hours or so.
He had never known Earth’s enviroment to adjust to it, which means that regardless of drugs, he was going to have a hell of a hard time adjusting.
“What’s the haps?” He asks, and Dr. Vogel guides him outside the room and into the hallway.
In about 5 seconds Ryland Grace spots Eva Stratt, feels every feeling he’s gotten over come back up to the surface and he turns and walks the opposite direction.
“Dr. Grace.” Both Vogel and Stratt say at the same time, and Ryland ignores them.
He couldn’t cry here. It wasn’t allowed. He needed to be strong. It was fine. She was right. He had to do it. He needed to get over it.
His feet hurt. Surprisingly, the skin hadn’t come clean off, thank you centrifuge, but being in natural earth gravity was still so starkly different it was weird.
There was a door down a long hallway. Ryland had spent enough time just staring outside, out the window, to learn that he was on the first floor, it was the smartest place to keep him, in all generality. He wasn’t sure if his legs could even handle the stairs yet. He wanted to try. He wanted to try so bad, but Ryland Grace was, above all else, a smart man.
He pushed outside.
A courtyard.
It wasn’t the largest, but the brief concrete pathways led off into dirt and grass and thin trees with their leaves barely hanging on. The air was cold enough to nip and bite at Ryland’s skin, and he relished it. It was wonderful, to feel the gentle pain of the air.
There wasn’t any wind, due to the fact that Ryland was surrounded on all sides by more hospital, and any working staff members quickly vacated the area as soon as they noticed his presence.
He could hear them behind him, he knew they were there. Of course he knew they were there, but if he didn’t face them he didn’t have to deal with them.
“Dr. Grace.” It was her voice.
Ryland gently lowered himself to the ground, where he began to pick at the grass strains and search for the dirt.
“Dr. Grace.” She says again.
“I’m not talking without Carl present.” Ryland announces to them behind him.
“Officer Carl is asleep at the moment.”
Ryland does not reply.
He continues picking at the grass, although it isn’t very soft, and rather spiky. He tries to braid with it, but it’s too short and well manicured.
There’s a distant sigh behind him, and someone leaves. Ryland flexes his hand once, twice, looks down at the ground, and grips it with all the strength he can manage.
He tears a straight chunk out of the ground, and the squish of disgusting dirt and grass poking out between his fingers makes him want to sob. There’s dirt under his fingernails, he should really clip them, and he smooths it out onto his palm.
It’s real. It’s real dirt, and real grass and real greenery.
His nails are also still too long.
The door opens and closes again.
“As requested, Dr. Grace.” Dr. Vogel says.
Carl looks exhausted, and he walks over to where Ryland is sat down. There’s a concrete bench with more mulch and a tree planted behind it, and Carl sits down on it. He can surely see Ryland’s red face, and trembling lip.
It is fear, once again running through his body.
He had trusted Eva so much. So much. She gave him a choice.
She gave him a choice that led to the stars.
Ryland could never speak the simple fact that although that choice had lead him to Rocky and to Simon and to Erid and to everyone he loved, he still wouldn’t do it. If he had known everything of what was to happen when they sat him down, he still wouldn’t have wanted to go.
Maybe Ryland should adopt a dog. He was allergic. But it could prevent them from sending him back, maybe. He didn’t want to go back.
He wanted a pair of nail clippers and to feel more dirt and to sit on the beach and sob. He wanted to go to England, past Cambridge where he had spent a semester and up to Nottingham, where the Great Oak lay. He wanted to touch it and he wanted to live, not just survive.
He wanted a hamburger, a real one, made by a teenager during the summer, he wanted to bike ride, for exercise. He wanted to pet a cat, and hear the birds cry, he wanted to meet his kids again. God, where were his kids?
He wanted to sit in his classroom and never open the door.
The tears slipped down his face and he didn’t even recognize it.
Carl put a hand on his shoulder, and Ryland sniffled, still messing with his handful of dirt.
“Anything- hic.” Ryland pauses, wondering if they heard that. “Anything they want to say to me they can say to you first.” He says, to Carl.
They, of course, meaning Eva.
There is a pause, and Carl removes his hand, and another deep sigh.
“Please tell Dr. Grace that his companion Rocky woke up earlier today. They seemed confused and very frightened. We would like to call you in to wake them up again, so that any apparent signs of distress might be quelled.”
Oh.
Rocky.
How had he forgotten?
The Hail Mary’s miracles. Was this a miracle? He didn’t really think it counted as anything, nor in particular, not to save anyone. It wasn’t a miracle to do what it had done to Adrian and Rocky. He hoped they weren’t in pain.
Did they sedate them?
‘Hi, welcome to earth, let’s put you in this iron lung and feed you sedatives because you look weird!’ It did sound like something the Petrova Task Force would do. Ryland had been terrified for ages that if he ever were to go to earth, back to earth with Rocky, that they would chain Rocky and dissect him. They would tear him limb from limb to see what made him work.
Humans were not kind. Not like the Eridians had been. There was barely enough space for all of the people in the world, the last time Ryland had been here. Granted, a lot of the population died, but nobody in any government would agree with knocking down some dead people’s houses to build a biodome for a rock.
Grace was not strong enough to protect Rocky.
“I can do that.” He mumbles, and Carl transmits it back.
There’s movement, and Ryland doesn’t know what. Papers flipping.
“Additionally, your other companion, Simon, his healing is at a molecular rate not seen before.” Ryland chortles a laugh. “While your conditions were fairly unstable upon arrival, it is to our knowledge that both you and he could be discharged within the week. The Eridians on floor 3 will take a longer while to judge, depending on what information we get about their biology.”
Ryland nodded silently.
“You cannot simply go home, I am afraid. In your absence, your flat has been renovated into a museum-”
What? What the hell?
“and while we have retrieved your personal items and replaced them with duplicates so that the museum can keep operating, you still are unable to return.” Ryland didn’t even remember what posessions he had to his name.
“I have personally selected a number of homes you can choose from, to stay in for the time being, or however so long you wish. At some point in the near future when your health is fully returned, you will be expected to make some public appearances, Dr. Grace.”
Carl stands up and grabs something that is handed to him, and that is then handed to Ryland.
They’re addresses, and descriptions. The first option is in Juneau, Alaska. Ryland was pretty sure everything was like Juneau now. We all love the freezing temperatures. He skips over this one.
The second is in Florida. Why this is even an option, Ryland doesn’t know. Nobody likes Florida, especially not a guy from San Fransico.
He flips through the pages, looking for San Fransico. It’s not on there.
There’s one in Scotland, way far out, and while it sounds relaxing, a nice beach, it would be less than freezing. A hard no, for right now.
Nearer to the end, there was a house in Seattle. North of Seattle, probably. A cabin, it stated. Waterfront, backed up to a forest and some fields with cattle and the likes. The best of every world, well, for the most part.
“Seattle.” He says, and hands.
“Seattle.” Carl says louder, so that they can hear.
“We will dispatch several federal agents and a caretaker there, so that you can readjust with no complications.” Dr. Vogel states this part.
“No.” Ryland says, and it’s loud enough for them to hear.
“Pardon me?” Vogel asks.
“I said no. None of them. I don’t want them there.”
“Dr. Grace, it is crucial that you have someone to take care of you, and several people to guard you in the case of your location being leaked.”
Rage boiled up inside of Ryland. Rage and Fear and every unpleasant emotion he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years.
He turned his torso and head in a motion that was excruciating to look at the two of them. His tear stained face and his blue eyes bloodshot and filled with an emotion they had never seen before. Quiet Dr. Grace. Happy Ryland, Safe Ryland, Quiet Ryland.
“I said no.” He hisses, and it’s somewhat negated by the fact that he’s still crying. “You sent me there. I saved the stars. I came back. I don’t want you to ask how. I don’t want to you to ask anything. I don’t want them there.”
There’s a quiet voice from the side, and Ryland notices Colt for the first time, standing timid over to the side, like he wasn’t supposed to be there (he wasn’t) and he didn’t know what to do (he didn’t).
“I can always take care of him? And uh, Simon.”
He offers with a lopsided smile that seems more like Ryland than Ryland feels right now.
“Yes.” Ryland grits out.
The look in Eva Stratt’s eyes is not anger. It is not pity. It is guilt. A deep, resounding guilt that Ryland hopes has hounded her for years.
He has forgiven her, because it worked. But he’s not going to forget. He will never forget. His hand untenses from where he didn’t even realized he had balled it up and the last of the dirt spills out of his hand.
She turns away.
“Very well.”
There is a blinding light and a ringing in his ears the moment she is gone and Colt is by his side and hugging him, and Colt doesn’t even know why he’s in this state, why he’s so upset, and he’s still here. He’s still here even though Ryland is a selfish coward.
There’s time, and Colt hold Ryland like something he had lost and wants to treasure again, and Ryland sobs into his shoulder.
Carl comes back with some green jello and skittles, to which Grace tries to grab, but is moved out of the way in favour for some carrots and basic mashed potatos first. Nutrients before the stuff that causes cancer.
He wants to go back to the room, and so he gnaws on a carrot while Colt guides him like he’s scared he will shatter and Carl eats a twizzler. Ryland sits back down next to Simon and eats the stupid carrots.
He leaves most of the bag of skittles for Rocky, Adrian and Simon.