Chapter Text
Claire wasn’t really sure what was happening, or what had been happening. She did, on the contrary, know, she felt the safest she had in a long time. Which was stupid, all things considered. Mostly considering she was smart enough to put together that most of the US Government’s departments were after them.
But she trusted Six. More than anything, she trusted him. He was all she had left, granted, but it was more than that. He wouldn’t tell her what had happened in the times they were away, until he came to get her; twice. But she could put it together. She wasn’t stupid.
She missed her uncle. Everytime she closed her eyes she was back on that passage, and he was collapsed and Six was holding her back. She knew that he was like family to Six too. Which made them family.
Claire didn’t remember much of her parents.
She had never had much of a family, all things considered.
Her parents had died when she was young. She had been given to her Uncle Donald, who adored her, but never had much time for her. She moved houses a lot. Housekeepers and bodyguards changed.
She stopped trying to attend public school after awhile. It was hard making friends only to leave again, and after she got older, the kids thought she was too weird, and didn’t want to be friends anyway. She was desperately lonely.
Her bodyguards didn’t really care much, she was just a stupid kid, who hadn’t even graduated elementary yet. Her housekeepers were too terrified of messing up to form a bond with. Six was different. Not in the usual sense, like the books where it was an instant connection.
No, he was still an indifferent asshole. But he cared about Claire in a way nobody else seemed to before. He stared at her sometimes, like he was seeing someone else. She didn’t really know what that was all about, but he did his job, kept her safe, and made her feel safe. He barely answered questions, but he’d let her show him her Sims 4 house, or pretend to play guard while she played Minecraft.
She knew he was only pretending to do his job as she narrated, because he would have to look away every few minutes from nausea. Old people didn’t like looking at moving screens too long. He didn’t leave often, but he’d come back with flowers, that the housekeeper adored. They didn’t make her nose hurt or make her heart act up, and they were pretty to look at.
None of the houses really had any colour in them, and it was always a nice change.
She liked it. She liked it more than she would admit, because she was scared that Six would leave and she would be alone again. And she would never admit that when she hid in that room in that stupid castle, afraid, she didn’t want her uncle. She wanted Six.
She wanted him to hold her like she had when her muscles were tensed up, she wanted him to hold her hand when he was speeding, she wanted to him to sit at her bedside longer than until her uncle showed up, because even when her uncle was there, he was there for a few seconds and then taking a call. He never bothered to stay for long, if he bothered to even show up.
But Six had done it. Six had stayed. Over and over, not even because it was his job, just because he cared. It was late out, and they were staying in the middle of a forest at the moment. Six had lit a small campfire where he was cooking, while Claire relaxed in the car with his airpods in, thinking.
It wasn’t the same as a record player, but it was close enough.
“Mr. Six?” She mumbled, her voice a bit dry and sore from disuse. He looked up, and Claire could see the bags under his eyes. He handed her a bottle of water without even thinking about it.
“What’s up?” He asked, giving her his full attention.
“Why are you called Six?”
There was a deep intake of breath, and his eyes darted away from her, like he wanted to avoid the question.
“That’s a long story, kid.” He said, and Claire frowned.
“Do you have somewhere to be?” She deadpanned right back at him, and his hands trembled ever slightly as he took deep breaths in and out.
“I had-” He began, only to pause. “I have two brothers.” He corrected. “They’re younger than me. By about 6 years.”
His speaking was shaky and cut off, like he had never spoken any of this out loud before. Claire wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t.
“Our Mother left after they were born. I was hard enough to handle, but with two new twin boys, it was too much for her.” He played with the kindling in his hands. “My father claimed he loved my mother. That’s what he always said. That’s why it was our fault she left. He had to make sure we remembered.”
Claire took in a sharp intake of breath. She could see where this was going.
“What are their names?” She asked, curious.
“Colton and Ryland. Well. Colt. He doesn’t like to be called Colton. Never has.” Six smiled. His tone was sweet. He loved them. “I could endure the way he would make us remember. But they were just kids. They were ok when he was out of the house, when they were at school or he was too drunk to walk, but they couldn’t take it. They were just kids.” He repeated.
Claire started to tear up. She wiped it away before Six could see.
“They were each others safe place. They’d protect each other when I couldn’t.” He wasn’t looking at her. He wasn’t looking at anything. He was trying to look away, from all of this. “Ryland kept eyeing the gun. He kept it in his nightstand. I don’t know what he was thinking, when he saw it. But he kept looking at it and I realized it could never be him.” His voice choked, an abrupt stop.
“He was holding Colt under water when I shot him. I could have hurt Colt on accident. I came so close, and he was still so frail. But I shot him, 11 times in his back. Colt gasped for air, and I dropped the gun and put him in the closet with some of his items and Ryland while I called 911. I was tried as an adult. First Degree Murder, Child Endangerment, along with several other charges. Ryland and Colt were placed into protective services. I was sent to Prison.”
Claire wondered how old Six was. She didn’t even know how old he was now. For all he spoke about just being kids, he was just a kid. He had gone through all of that, and she couldn’t even escape. He was so much stronger than she could ever be.
“Donald came to offer me a choice when I was 17. I could work for the Sierra Program, and leave prison on the condition I would continue to work for them until I died. It was that or a life sentence.”
“And you chose Sierra.”
He nods.
“They killed Courtland Gentry, legally. That’s my name. It was my name. They gave me a new one. Sierra Six. Because I was the Sixth. And the last.”
Claire didn’t know how to even react to something like that.
“The Sierra Program isn’t exciting. It’s not anything you want to hear about, or anything I want to tell you about. What happened there, stays there.”
“Not true.” She bites out. He looks at her, and his eyes are blue but they seem wet, and the thought of a Six that cries is a thought that’s never even crossed Claire’s mind before. “It can’t stay there. Because if it does it means I have to stay there too.”
Six smiles, gently, delicate, fragile, in a way. Six stares at Claire like she’s his whole world.
“You are my one exception.” He offers her, and it is wonderful.
“I’m not calling you Six anymore.” She decides.
“I don’t have another nam-” He starts, and Claire throws the plastic bottle at him. “I am not letting you call me Courtland.” He reprimands her, even though he’s tensed up like she’s got more plastic bottles to throw at him.
“Ew, no.” She says the first thing that comes to mind. He raises an eyebrow. The second thing that comes to mind is; ‘Can I call you Dad?’ But that’s weird, and Claire doesn’t want him to think that she’s weird.
A sausage finishes cooking, and he gives it to her to eat.
“We’re going to go see my brothers. I don’t think they remember me, but-”
“You miss them?”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” He pauses, watching and letting the fire burn out. “Yeah. I miss them a lot.”
He pulls down the chairs so they lay almost entirely flat, and it’s uncomfortable, but Claire makes do by laying mostly on top of him. He says nothing. She is very cold, and it is cold in the night and he is warm.
“Hey Six?” She asks, muttering to the small slip of open air her mouth can reach.
“Thought you weren’t callin me that.” He retorts.
“Can…” She trails off. “Is it ok if I call you Dad?”
A deep intake of breath. Claire worries.
“Sure kid.”
She hugs him tighter as she forces her arms around his ribcage, pretending she wants the warmth. He holds her gently, and she knows his hands are covered in blood, and she has seen him kill, but they cradle her.
“You’re all I’ve got, Dad.” She mutters, and she’s scared. More scared than she’ll let herself admit.
“I will never let anything happen to you.” He says after a period of time, and she drifts off to sleep, slowly, nestled against him, like a baby penguin hiding under it’s father.
Courtland, because he seems to be Courtland again, because not a single soul left seems to be calling him Six, Courtland looks at his daughter with more love than he could ever manage to explain.
It was the same way he felt when it came to keeping track of Colt or Ryland, but more precious. Courtland had a daughter. She loved him, and he loved her, and he would keep her safe no matter what. He would bring her somewhere safe and she would make tons of friends and she wouldn’t be lonely but she would be loved.
Maybe Courtland sees himself in her. Maybe he sees Colt and Ryland. But it doesn’t really matter.
What matters to him is his name and the small, breathing being he has tucked against him, that he cherishes more than all of the stars in the sky.
~~
The second time Rocky woke up, it still burned. It felt like he was scrambling outside of Grace’s atmosphere again, and he didn’t know how to fix it. How did he fix this? He needed to fix it.
And suddenly the burn stopped. The weird thing lifted. Grace. Rocky knew him, even when Rocky didn’t know anything.
The footsteps, the smell, the presence, the voice, the looks, the feeling, it was Grace.
“…Grace?” He asks, and his gas bladders hurt, and as Grace frowns and helps him sit up, Rocky remembers he doesn’t really have gas bladders anymore, not like he used to. Ryland is supporting him, and Rocky can feel his hands, as Grace guides a cup towards him. On Instinct, one he didn’t know he had, Rocky opens his mouth.
A small tube enters, and he sucks on curiosity. He’s not sure what’s going on. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Grace, he stares at Rocky kindly, and he seems alright, and he doesn’t look at Rocky like Rocky is something horrific, and he gently relaxes.
It feels different, like his body is not taut, when he does so.
The liquid entering his body is warm, and sweet. The cup is empty, and Grace pulls the cup away. Rocky sticks out his tongue. He has one of those apparently. It’s wet and gross. He has eyes too. Like Grace. Not Eridian. Like Grace.
“How… ‘re… you… feeling?” Someone speaks, and Rocky realizes it’s Grace. His voice is the same, but like it was on Mary, many cycles ago.
Rocky doesn’t reply, instead opting to stare at Grace, dead in the face, observing him.
His eyes. The weird leaky crevices that Rocky can still ‘see’ somewhat in his head, but they look so much different.
An arm. A familiar concept. Rocky raises his right arm up, pointing at Grace.
“Colour?” He asks, and his voice is raw. It is exactly how it always has been, but it feels like he has been asleep for many cycles or he is coming out of a healing molt. Grace smiles.
Rocky watches still as the skin on his face is pulled taut and wrinkles in all the right places. It doesn’t look creepy, like it did. It looked beautiful. It felt like Adrian stretching after sleeping, or chirping. Rocky tried to mimic the motion.
“My eyes?” Grace asked, and Rocky nodded jerkily. “Blue. They’re blue.” Rocky stared at him, dead in the face. “Yours seem to be brown. Like your Carapace! And your hair is brown too, and it gets a lot more detailed when it comes to where it looks like you’re from, objectively obviously you’re still from Erid but there’s so many details-” Grace starts talking, and Rocky reaches up to touch his so called hair.
“Talk too much.” Rocky replies.
“It’ll involve puppet shows later.” Grace counters, as Rocky learns to run his fingers through his hair.
“Continue talk.” Rocky replies, perked up.
Grace laughs, and Rocky has never been more sure of his best friend.
“This is beige.” Grace says, pointing to the fabric covering Rocky’s legs. “It’s like a mix of white and brown. Shoot, you don’t know what white and brown is.”
“Hair and eyes brown. Grace tell me.” Rocky says, and Grace nods and laughs, and Rocky looks around.
“The lights are dim right now, they’re yellow-ish. Normally they’re bright white. Best for seeing.”
“Human sight require bright bright lights.” Rocky quoted.
“Most of this room is white. Hospitals are generally white because it’s easier to tell when there’s a material on the surface, so you can clean it. Better sterility.”
Rocky glanced around. The abundance of one specific thing lead him to correlate white to… white. It looked blank. Boring. Still interesting. This was what Grace meant when colours were pretty.
“I’ll turn up the lights a little bit. I’m not sure if you can get headaches, it’s all really a big mess right now, but uh, if your head starts to ache.., let me know?” Grace sounded confused. Rocky wasn’t paying attention.
The ‘dim yellow’ turned a bit more white, and Rocky could see more. See further. He could see differences in location and shape, just the same as he normally would, and it was so weird. Taking in more of the room, his eyes land on a figure laying on a matching bed just a few yards away.
“Adrian!” Rocky screams, and jumps, trying to get over to them. Several items were yanked forcefully out of his body, and he collapses on the ground, in lots of pain. A catheter and IV and drip lines lay torn dangling above him.
Grace was by his side in an instant.
“Hey hey hey-” He soothed as Rocky rocked himself back and forth, whimpering. “It’s ok, the pain will fade in a little bit. I’ll try giving you some tylenol. Please don’t explode.” Grace rubs the palms of his hands up and down on Rocky’s forearms, and it’s nice, it distracts from the searing pain in several locations.
He’s gone, for a bit, and Rocky freaks. Gone. Gone. Something about Tylenol. Medication. Tylenol was a popular brand name for american medicine acetaminophen. Painkiller. Rocky liked to chide Grace for calling acetaminophen tylenol even though it was not tylenol because it was an eridian recreation, and not from the U S of A.
He never dropped the habit.
Grace comes back in to vision before Rocky hears him, which is weird. He’s got another glass, and a small white pill.
“Got some more water, you seem to be able to intake it fine. Take this with the water, don’t chug it.”
Rocky did as instructed, and resisted his urges to pour all of it down his throat, it was a lot colder than the water he had originally been given, and it felt great, but Rocky spent a long time watching his leaky space blob friend suffer the consequences of chugging or eating too fast.
It was disgust when Grace did it. Rocky did not repeat behaviors.
Grace sat with him for a few minutes, holding Rocky’s hands, as Rocky stared blankly down at the ground, attempting to rationalize his pain. Grace rubbed Rocky’s hands, tracing over the indents and outdents that faintly made up the tattooes he had had on his carapace.
Rocky burped after 6 minutes or so, and hiccuped right after that, which caused him to freak out.
Grace laughed.
“What that, question!”
“It’s ok! Calm down, It’s something the human body does when your body intakes food or fluids. The hiccup is because your diaphragm got offset.” Grace explained, exactly like the teacher he was. It was the same lesson he taught Eridian students when he had to stop class to drink water because he couldn’t stop hiccuping.
They had thought he was dying, which was a fair assumption, as humans were mostly built to self destruct, it seemed. It had taken an entire trip to space for Grace to realize how poorly built humans were.
Rocky hiccuped again, and drank some more water. Grace guided his chin back so his neck was almost vertical, and he swallowed, the normal fix that worked for Grace. Other than choking himself so he didn’t have oxygen, but he figured Rocky wouldn’t like that very much.
He calmed down, and the pills seemed to kick in somewhat as the glossy look of pain in Rocky’s eyes faded.
He looked down at himself, taking in the small bleeding areas that Grace was gently applying gauze to.
“Human now, question?” He asked.
“Yeah bud. You look human. I mean you’re not, but you sure look it.” Grace said, using the standard human medical recipe for injured leaky spots. Gauze and poorly wrapped tape.
“What mean, question.”
“Hmm? What do you mean? I mean it’s somewhat obvious you appear human- and you seem to be able to able to function as one-”
Rocky cut him off.
“No. What mean not entirely human. Still some part Eridian? Rocky fucked up mess of human and eridian? Rocky monster question? Radiation question? Simon mutation question? Rocky Simon Mutation gross ugly leaky statement?”
He wasn’t hyperventilating, but Grace could see the way his eyes flickered back and forth and all around like he was beginning to panic. Luckily enough, when dealing with a space creature that didn’t breathe the same way, they generally didn’t know how to have a panic attack the same way.
“No, not at all. You’re human appearing, I mean.” Grace said calmly, and giving Rocky direct eye contact with a steady voice. He had freaked out when he first saw Simon, so maybe Rocky was ok. Maybe. “Your blood is made of Mercury, and if you listen to your voice you still sound Eridani. You’re boiling hot still, and you’ve got natural tattoos and inlays of stones, which aren’t human.”
“Rocky see.” Rocky stated.
“I don’t really know what caused this. Adrian is similar, but you’re both ok. Nothing is wrong with you medically.”
“Grace.”
“Yeah bud?”
“Where are we? Not Erid.”
Grace took a deep breath.
“Earth, bud. We’re on Earth.”
Rocky made a long whistling sound.
“Wow. Many wow. Make no sense.” Rocky stood up, and holding onto Grace for support makes his way over to Adrian. Grace mutters something like ‘I feel the same way’ and Rocky stares down at his beloved.
He would recognize them in any lifetime. In any shape, in any form. Always his. Always Adrian.
“Colour?” He asked, pointing at Adrian’s head. Their eyes were closed, and their skin was pale, paler than Grace. White. Not white. Beige.
“Blue. and Purple. Not natural hair colours for humans, but pretty.” Grace watched as Rocky hovered his hand. “You won’t hurt them. It’s ok. They’re just asleep. The meds wore off faster on you.”
“Sleep. Not dead.”
“Yeah bud. I was watching you guys sleep.”
“Good. Adrian dead. No no. Adrian dead Rocky kill himsel-”
Grace slapped a hand over Rocky’s mouth.
“Language!” He hissed, and Rocky astonished in the pain it caused. Weird hurt so much and it didn’t even fracture anything. Rocky opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue to Grace’s palm. Sweaty and yucky. Grace yelped and pulled his hand away, jumping away from Rocky.
There were shouts of ew and also maybe a few hisses of pain, but Grace was dramatic. Human mouth cavity did not cause pain. Grace lick Rocky many times as torture. Very gross.
“Holy fudgers Rock, your spit burns like all fire dude.” Grace complained from across the room.
“Grace dramatics statement.”
Rocky could feel Grace staring at him with a glare. That’s what that had meant. He had read about glares burning before. No wonder Grace could tell Rocky was hearing him when he wasn’t facing Rocky. So weird.
There was a gentle force Rocky knew as Gravity sagging on him, and it hurt, so he let himself bend down, hugging close to Adrian. Their hair was soft. It was a different soft than what he felt before, not the same, but it was nice. So nice.
“Wake up soon?”
“They’ll wake up soon.”
Rocky hummed a low tune. Fear and hope. Rocky didn’t care what he looked like. Where he was. Grace was here. Adrian was here. That was what he needed. As long as they were alive, he was ok. Simon was applicable to each scenario.
Not really, because Rocky did care about him more than he would like to admit. Grace certainly cared about Simon. God damn it, he supposed Simon would end up having to be there too.
“Glad Grace is here.” Rocky told Grace, who’s hand was on his back, rubbing circles. Comforting. It was weird to be a leaky blob. Rocky didn’t mind.
“I’ve never been happier to have you somewhere with me, Rock.” Grace said, and smiled.
~~
Colt was so unbelievably fucked.
Ryland had left some time ago after eating to go up and visit his Rock friends, because they would be upset if they woke up and he wasn’t there. Sure. Whatever. That made sense.
Carl had left on the basis of scoping out wherever they were headed next—whenever Simon and Rocky and Adrian were discharged. The names were ingrained into Colt’s head. He’d only been around his brother for a few days and it felt like the man didn’t even know how to talk about himself.
It wasn’t horrible, and Colt certainly knew how important they were to Ryland. It made them important to Colt. The bigger concern was that Ryland spoke like he was terrified they were going to be taken away from him.
He’d seen the video logs. Somewhat. Didn’t pay much attention. But he knew the other two Hail Mary members were dead. Ryland must have been alone a very long time. Colt was ok being alone. Ok, no he wasn’t. He pretended he was.
Colt pretended a lot of things. It was easier to see those things in Ryland than they were in himself. His stupid brother. Late night dreams of an imaginary friend he thought he had made up although it turns out to be a whole other person.
He’d only had Ryland for a few days, but if anything ever happened to him, Colt would probably lose his shit and then hurt himself. He wasn’t strong enough to really hurt other people. Stunt work was really deceiving. Nobody tell Jody the muscles were for show.
Well. It’s not like he could tell Jody much of anything.
It wasn’t really the point in the end, was it?
He could sit here and feel sorry for himself for a long time, but Ryland was gone at the moment, and so was Carl which left Colt with a Simon that seemed to be waking up leaving Colt in a very precarious position.
The hospital gown wasn’t great for anything really, and considering Simon had the muscles of someone who was on three tours, and when he wasn’t looking at Ryland looked like he had the count of someone on three tours, Colt wasn’t sure he could survive an encounter without Ryland.
From the jerky twitches and groans of pain, Colt was going to have to try and improvise at the very least. He didn’t think touching Simon in any way would help, but being hidden in the corner of the room probably might cause some fear as well.
He gently brought his chair closer to the bedside and watched dutifully to make sure his heart monitor didn’t beep out—or something. Colt wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to do.
He sat like that, alone with a comatose guy that may or may not be awake until Colt managed to get the nerve to work his phone out of his pocket. He didn’t have many games, aside from Block Blast, Roblox (it was a guilty pleasure. He doesn’t talk about it.) and maybe one or two of the shitty mobile ad games he kept forgetting to delete.
He didn’t want his focus to be entirely gone, so he tapped blockblast, silently cursing when he noticed how low his phone was on battery. He was struck with the thought of the youtube shorts where it had AI generated reddit posts of people pulling the cord to charge their phones, and Colt took a second to sit up and wonder what he was doing with his life.
Carl had a phone charger brought in from earlier, and standing up, Colt disconnected it from the one port, and plugged it into an extension cord closer by. His high score blinked at him from the screen as he tapped new game, and sat there, the ominous sounds of a man groaning in the background being the only music.
Mobile game music had always pissed Colt off. It was extremely fucking annoying, and he wasn’t going to have it.
He lost most of his games. It wasn’t a necessarily hard game, but Colt had always struggled for some reason. Distantly, he wondered if Ryland was good at it. Hopefully not. Ryland would probably tease him.
It took another second for Colt to realize he probably wouldn’t tease him in a way Colt didn’t like. Ryland was his brother. Not Tom Ryder. Colt hadn’t trauma dumped everything onto Ryland, but through everything he did know, Ryland had never once looked at Colt with mocking pity or fake sympathy. Outrage and upset, empathy and the likes, but nothing unkind.
Colt wasn’t sure he had ever met anyone that wasn’t entirely judgemental of every part of him. Even Jody and Dan sometimes judged him for something.
His hands tapped the screen as he resisted the urge to cry. There were so many issues and so many things to deal with, and Colt was sat there, crying about the fact that his stupid twin wasn’t going to call him a loser for something pathetic he did.
Colt was too engrossed in his thoughts and feelings to notice the sound of rustling sheets, or to feel the pair of brown eyes boring into his skull as Colt pulled his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. It was a pose that relaxed his back a lot, which had been aggravated the last few days.
Colt wasn’t going to complain though. Never. He was silently afraid of what was going to happen to Simon and Ryland, he knew astronauts bones liquified in space or something. That and the skin just came off their body. Unlimited access to the internet had told him so.
“What’s that?” A low, grumbly voice asked him, and Colt jumped so hard his chair tipped over, successfully knocking the plug out of the socket, but just barely keeping Colt from cracking his skull open on the tile floor as he gripped the handlebars of Simon’s bed, panting for breath.
“Holy fucking shit.” Colt cursed.
The air in the room turned tense. Colt could certainly feel the stare now. It felt more like a glare and Colt would absolutely lose if this man decided he was a threat.
“You’re not Ryland.” Simon gritted out, and his voice was rough. Colt looked up, and realized instinctually that the anger in Simon’s eyes was fear. He wasn’t upset because he wanted Colt hurt, he was afraid.
Colt blinked twice, before springing into action.
“No, uh no.” He reached over for the water pitcher they had left in the room as Ryland got thirsty easily, and the cup Simon had been using before. “Sorry, you were pretty out of it when we met the first time. I’m uh, Colt. Colton. Call me Colt.”
He offered Simon the glass of water, which was snatched out of his hand like any lingering contact would cause extreme irritation and rot to come over Simon. He accepted it greedily, swallowing it down quicker. Colt watched, and as Simon finished, he offered some more water. Simon accepted that too.
“You done-” Colt started, but was cut off.
“Where’s Ryland? Who are you.” Simon repeated, with an even more harsh tone, but all Colt could see was a cat scrunched up. He was really cute. Not in the same way Ryland probably considered him cute, but in the way that Colt found stray cats that he wanted to pet cute.
“Ryland’s upstairs, he just left for a little bit to go see your friends Rocky and Adrian.” Colt spoke slowly, like he was talking to a small child. He hoped it didn’t come off demeaning. “I’m uh, Ryland’s twin. It’s a new thing.”
“Twins come together at birth. You can’t just be a new thing.” Simon snarled.
Colt snorted. Simon glared.
“Sorry, sorry. You’re right. It’s new as in, we were seperated when we were young and only recently did we realize each other existed.”
Simon seemed to accept it, if nothing else, but was still glaring daggers, and backing himself up to the corner of his bed.
“Where are we?” He asked. Colt debated his answer.
“I think you might want to discuss that with Ry? No diss, I just don’t want to freak you out considering we met like 8 hours ago or something? Time isn’t real here- not the point.” He cursed himself. He picked up his phone, plugging it back in quietly. “You wanted to see this?” He asked.
Simon changed the focus of his eyes from Colt to the phone, watching him carefully as he moved closer to show Simon.
“Is it a bomb?” He asked first.
Colt laughed again. Simon’s frown deepened.
“Sorry, I guess they didn’t have phones on the Mary, or Erid- whatever. It’s a phone. Short for cellphone, which is short for cellular phone. They connect to cell towers to get signal to do shit, I guess.” Colt explained, and Simon stared at him like he was insane. “I was playing a game on it, when you woke up.”
“I saw the colours. Like tetris.” Simon deadpanned.
Colt lit up.
“You know Tetris! Yes, it’s pretty similar to that. It’s called block blast, it’s a really stupid endless game where you try and rack up points.” Colt said, and put in his passcode to give the phone to Simon. “You can try if you want.”
Simon stared at it like Colt was insane.
“I like tetris.” He mumbled, and gently used one finger to poke the resume game button.
“Sorry, you can ignore that. It’s my game, but like I said, it’s infinite, so it doesn’t really matter.”
Simon nodded quietly, not speaking more. He got the concept quick, which was probably because it wasn’t a very abstract concept. Colt gently eased himself closer over time, watching Simon do far better at the game than he ever had, until Colt could peer over his shoulder, and worked up the courage to mumble some ideas on what to do next.
Simon didn’t accept any of his ideas, but he hadn’t punched Colt yet, which was a good sign! Great. If this went great then Colt could have a brother and a brother in law, and whatever the fucked up rock space aliens counted as. He was getting more friends by the day!
He wondered what Carl counted as. Were they friends?
“You’re thinking too loud.” Simon said, and it was more relaxed than anything he had said before, and Colt startled up, lost in thought, and Simon jerked away, clutching the phone like a weapon.
“Sorry-” Colt started.
“Sorry. I’m sorry. I forgot you weren’t Ryland. I’m sorry.” Simon said, and Colt furrowed his brow. Throw out the theory of the guy having served three tours, he looked like Colt was going to stab him for saying something completely normal.
“Hey it’s-” He broke off, confused. Simon looked teary-eyed. “It’s ok. I’m similar enough to Ryland. I know he’s important to you.” He comforted Simon, from a distance. God, he wondered how tired he must be. “Do you want to try laying down? I don’t know if you’re in pain, but I can get you some meds? I can’t leave you here, but if you go to sleep I can go find Ryland and he can be here when you wake up.”
The vulnerability in Simon was gone, as quickly as it had appeared.
“You’re going to kill me in my sleep.” He said. “You’re C.O.I and you created some fucked up clone of Ryland as punishment for me to torment me and as soon as I fall asleep you’re going to torture me. I’m not going back to the fucking ocean-” He began to scream, and Colt just stared.
Colt heard footsteps running down the hallway, and Ryland came in, clutching his midsection, staring, wide-eyed and afraid, looking back and forth between Colt and Simon. Simon was sobbing. Colt felt really bad. Was it because of the block blast?
“Simon- Hey, Si-” Ryland was by Simon’s side in an instant, and Colt eased closer too as Simon’s attention turned all the way to Ryland, clutching him like the world’s dying sun. “I’m ok. You’re ok. I’m sorry for being gone. This is Colt, he’s not C.O.I. He won’t hurt you. He hasn’t hurt me.”
Colt eased the phone out of Simon’s bed, and hit the button for morphine. It had worked to calm him down somewhat the only other time he had been awake, and a high Simon was much better than a screaming Simon.
“Why ‘re you hurt then?” Simon demanded. “Why am I hurt?” Simon held Ryland and Ryland held Simon. “It hurts, Angel.”
“We went through some bad things on our way here, and both of our bodies are adjusting to it. It’ll go away in a bit. The more sleep you get, the better it’ll feel. Colt didn’t hurt us. Everyone here is just like the Eridian doctors.”
Simon nodded, and the meds must have been kicking in, and Ryland held him until his sniffling stopped, his arm went limp and his breathing evened out. Ryland gave him a forehead kiss as he gently tucked him in again, as much as he could fix the rumpled bed sheets.
He turned to Colt, who was staring at Ryland with wide-eyes, even though he could barely feel them himself.
Ryland opened his arms, and smiled gently at Colt.
Colt was moving forward before he could process it.
He gripped Ryland tight. Ryland gripped him back.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do-”
Ryland shushed him quietly, and swayed back and forth. Colt wondered how the pressure was feeling for him.
“None of that was your fault. He’s easily frightened. He’s been through a lot. You couldn’t have known.” Ryland explained. Colt nodded into his shoulder. “It’s ok. He’s ok. You’re ok. Nothing went wrong.”
Colt pulled away after a bit, gathering his composure. He watched Ryland yawn. He closed his eyes for a moment, and a young voice and blurry memories flashed through his mind.
“Did you know yawns are the most contagious thing in the world?” He asked Ryland. Ryland paused, and looked at him. They were having a moment.
“I taught you that.” Ryland said.
The moment lasted a long time.
Carl was sure to return soon, and Colt knew that soon enough they’d likely discharge all of them and send them to wherever home was now.
Ryland crawled into bed, the small thing. He left the blankets open and stared at Colt.
“You want me to cuddle with you?” He asked, confused.
Ryland glared.
“We shared a womb, I get cold easily, and you’ve seen the state my normal cuddle partner is in.” He said, and Colt giggled, the kind of laugh when you’re too tired to really comprehend much. He hugged Ryland, as the much softer bed greeted him. They had been giving Ryland all the good stuff the whole time.
It felt normal. They probably cuddled a lot as kids. Colt went to sleep hugging himself most nights. He upgraded to pillows when they were cold enough.
They felt like Ryland.
He had always wondered why he had that habit.
~~
Courtland Gentry held his daughter close to him. As close as he could get her. She was sleeping on his chest, and he was worried she was going to be too cold. He ran hot, he knew that, and the truck maintained heat well, it certainly wasn’t freezing, but his mind ran through what if scenarios.
He subconciously tightened his grip on her. He had never supposed to be this attached.
They had decided on a place of residency, semi-permanant, yesterday. Court would make his way out there as soon as Claire woke up.
She and Ryland would get along.
He closed his eyes, and he felt 11 again, with Colt on one side and Ry on the other, huddling close to him under threadbare sheets. It wasn’t true, and they weren’t there, and Claire wasn’t them, but it was just as pleasant.
He was so close to having everything he had ever wanted.
~~
Adrian woke up to a pressure on their chest. Abnormal. Rocky didn’t fit on top of Adrian, due to the jagged peaks of their carapace. He would slot beside them, but never on top.
Opening eyes—they found that to be new. Adrian did not have eyes. They found dim lighting, very dim. Using observational skills and logic, they concluded very first off, they felt human. 4 limbs, they could feel. Two bottom, two top. Grace’s anatomy.
They couldn’t feel their gas bags, but moving to stretch their head, further proving their current train of thought, they could feel voice strings. Letting out a few chords, it was concluded they could make their regular speech, simply differently.
Opening their mouth, it was dry and gross and cracky, all very displeasant feelings. It was subsequentially filled with hair, or Adrian’s best approxiamation of it, as their eyes drifted down to what was covering them.
Rocky.
Adrian took less than a minute to gather all of this evidence and realize it was Rocky. The slopes of their nose, their tattoos and inlays, Adrian’s inlays, this was their mate.
Rocky let out a happy purr, and settled into Adrian further, their face laid across Adrian’s chest as they dangled half off of the bed. Adrian could see a small earth-ish camera pointed at them.
Grace was watching them sleep.
Using the little power they had, Adrian shift to hold Rocky, remembering and mimicking the way Grace did it. Tucked up next to them, Their mate finally safe and happy, Adrian went back to sleep.