ilya writing dump

If there was one thing you knew it was that Ryland Grace and you perfectly orbited each other, even when he was far off in San Francisco teaching the next generation of young scientists. It had been that way since you met him in college and it just never stopped. Part of you thought it was written in the stars that Ryland Grace and you were meant to do great things together.

Even after everything that happened with his research paper, even after your lab group dropped you post college from lack of funding, it was still the two of you. Science Partners, pen pals, best buds….among other ambiguous unstated things. You stayed in contact over the years, frequent calls, letters, the stupid punny e-cards he would email you on your birthday every year. There was a time, in college, when the two of you were together almost every day. And your excuse was always that we just work well together.

You knew Ryland Grace, you would say it was your next best subject. However, in this specific, very rare instance, you had no idea what the fuck Ryland Grace was even talking about.

Have you ever considered helping save the planet?

You must have reread the email a thousand times. Enough where your brain eventually shut off from confusion and your head met the keyboard in place of a pillow. Only when a loud thudding rattled through your dingy apartment did you finally realize that you had even fallen asleep. You blinked at the screen, lifting your head from your keyboard, the sun shining through the windows onto your desk. Reaching up, you peeled a small sticky note off your face, rubbing your eyes.

BANG, BANG, BANG. The sound rattled through your thin walls again and only on the second time did you realize it was coming from your front door. You paused for a second and glanced at your small digital clock, it was only six in the morning. Shooting up from your chair you made your way to the door, grabbing an umbrella on the way over, just in case.

You peered through the peep hole, only relaxing for a second when you saw a woman…then her two, what you could assume were body guards, behind her. Right about now you would have called Ryland but he had been off the grid, that email being the first sign of life you had gotten in days.

Shit. Shit. Shit. What do you even do? You glanced back out, seeing them talking amongst themselves before knocking again, the woman calling your name through the door. Quickly turning to the mirror on the wall near the door, you  let out a groan at what you saw. There was mascara smeared under your eyes from sleep and your hair stuck up in fifteen directions, all completed by the oversized t-shirt you had on reading “This gal believes in aliens”. 

Fuck it!

You threw the umbrella to the side, brushed some hair out of your face and opened the door, casually leaning against the frame like everything was under control.

“Hi,” you spoke up, voice rough from not sleep, quickly clearing your throat in response, arms crossed over yourself to hide the stupid shirt. “Hi…uh is there anything I can do for you?”

The women did not look amused, only offering you a nod, slightly peaking into the small studio apartment behind you. 

“Yes, actually, you received an email,” she spoke, sharp, straight to the point. It wasn’t a question really, more like a confirmed fact she was repeating. Her eyebrow quirked ever so slightly at your silence. “Am I wrong?”

You shook your head quickly.

“Yes or no? It is really that simple”.

“Yes, yes, sorry…” you hesitated for a second, coming to the quick realization you had no idea who these people were. And yet, you were so scared to see what would happen if you lied. “Yeah I got an email”.

“Not my decision. Dr. Grace thought however that it would be most efficient,” she continued. “He has spoken very highly of you and from my own research, I can understand why”.

Dr. Grace? Ryland? 

She gestured past you which you could only respond by moving to the side. Her presence commanded space and you respected it, or feared it, there was a lot to unpack. She stepped past you, turning to give a nod to the two men with her who remained outside.

“I am sorry,” you began, closing the door, turning to face her. “Maybe you got the wrong person-”

“That is not possible,” she replied. “He was very insistent that we must contact you in order to move forward”.

For what? Contact you for what?

You watched as the woman moved around the room like it was her space, picking up books and skimming through old pages of notes you had written. Then she turned to face a white board you had mounted messily in your kitchen, scribbled with notes and doodles that surrounded three big words: THE PETROVA LINE.

“Seems we are on the same page,” she mused, the first time you had heard any significant change in her tone. 

The space and the stars and the idea of infinity above had kept you up late into the night as a child. Your parents should have expected your world was one far away from the grounds of Earth, that you would live your life with your head in the stars. Your father used to have to drag you inside from your backyard, you set up with a blanket and a small telescope that they had bought you for your birthday that year. Each night would end the same, your parents calling you to come inside and you asking for five more minutes, which turned into ten, which turned into hours. But your little sixth grade self could not fathom how school was more important than the world above, the possibilities of the stars.

And when you went to college to study that world it was the easiest decision of your life. Then the stars turned on you and you could not understand why.

The Petrova Line kept you up at night.

“You studied the Tau Ceti System, yes?”

The name of the planet system sent a shockwave through you in a way you didn’t even know was possible. Tau Ceti was your whole life, or it had been in a distant past, it was a system you believed to have more potential than people truly gave it credit for. Yes, you knew Tau Ceti, however you had let that ship sail a long time ago. 

“Yeah,” you spoke up, quieter than before. “Yeah I did some work on Tau Ceti”.

And you could not help the wave of disappointment that hit you at those words. You had been recruited to a lab group after college that was specifically dedicating funding to researching the Tau Ceti System, and when it fell through, so did all your plans. You had dropped every other offer for the one that, it was everything you had wanted. It was a risk, and it fell through. No one really prepares you for post college as an Astrobiologist, no one ever tells you that you will end up working as a waitress at the Extraterrestrial Eatery near your house. At least you got to wear a cool space suit there. Tau Ceti and your other research had been benched, pushed to the side for evenings when you had nothing else to do.

“Perfect. Now that is cleared up, grab anything that might be important and we can be on our way”.

The women turned to move past you back for the door and you felt like your feet were suddenly glued to the ground. You opened your mouth to speak, before closing it, then opening it again. Yet no sound seemed to come out.

“What is this?” she asked, turning back, gesturing to your face. “I do not need the fish impression right now, this is a serious matter, we do not have the time”.

You immediately shut your mouth, then took a breath.

“Who are you?” you finally cried out. “What is this? No one is telling me anything!”

You felt insane, like you were living in some simulation where everyone knew what was going on but you. Where were the cameras? When were they gonna jump out and say it was all some weird, honestly unnerving, prank?

“I am Eva Stratt, head of the Petrova Taskforce” she began. “And you have been selected by Ryland Grace to help solve the Petrova Line”.

“I have work tomorrow,” you breathed out, a loss for words. The Petrova Taskforce, some of the world's most brilliant minds coming to you…a waitress at an alien restaurant. The email came back to you, the ominous words from Ryland, saving the world. This was news that a long time ago would have been everything you had ever wanted to hear…now you felt like some imposter, out of place.

Why you? Why now? Why after years of beating around the bush did Ryland Grace need your help to solve one of humanity's greatest emergencies. Why was Ryland Grace solving one of humanity's greatest emergencies?

“That will not be a problem,” Stratt countered. “We have already contacted your place of work and put you on an indefinite time of leave”.

“You can’t just do that!” you fought back, even if you knew that was the least of your worries. It was all so much, all at once. Ryland and Tau Ceti and the Petrova Line and saving the fucking planet. 

You remained still glued to the floor, grasping at straws, scared of saying yes…maybe even more scared of saying no. You glanced around the room, the books, the hours of work, the pictures of Ryland and you scattered around the room from college. It had been years since you saw him and maybe that scared you too, seeing him again, reopening feelings you had sworn to bury too deep to ever reach again. 

Your curiosity for the world remained, your love for space had never quite gone away, that would be impossible. It was just more of a hobby now, you looked less like someone with a PhD in Astrobiology and more like a crazed conspiracy theorist. You weren’t the same scientist from college, bright eyed and ready to fly into space if she had to.

Dr. Stratt spoke your name from the silence, your eyes snapping back to meet hers, “the sun is dying.”

The word settled heavy, lingering in the air between the two of you. 

“Dr. Grace is my last hope,” she continued, honest, blunt. “And you are his”.

And that was all it took as you nodded, a loss for words, moving in a sort of trance to gather your things.

-----------

If there was something you would be fine never doing again it was that fuck-ass fighter jet. But now, standing in front of the door to the conference room, you think you might rather go back and ride the jet a few more times to stall. You hadn’t seen Ryland Grace in years…and now you were there, feet away from him and the idea overwhelmed you more than you thought it would.

The ride over had been a bumpy, hazy mess. Anyone you tried to ask about what was happening would ignore you as if you were a ghost…which only left you with more questions. By the time you landed on a boat your brain was too tired to even try to make sense of it all.

You had met Ryland in college. You both ended up in the same class, ‘The History of Extraterrestrial Life’...better known on campus as That One Alien Class. It filled both of your general education requirements, or at least that’s what you told him was your reasoning.  It had taken him weeks to get you to admit that you believed in Aliens and even longer to admit that the class really wasn’t a joke to you. 

The two of you were paired up for most of the semester, spending time whispering in class and making jokes about how deranged the content was. Even if it did open your eyes up to the whole Tau Ceti system. 

You remember the last day of class so vividly. It was your final presentation and Ryland had taken it upon himself to get you these dumb matching shirts reading, “This gal believes in aliens” paired with “this guy probably is an alien”. It was stupid. And it was so perfect.

The thought made you smile, only for a second, before the nerves of it all settled back in. 

There was too much there, floating, left unsaid. And it scared the shit out of you. 

Before you could even fully prepare, the doors opened, your body moving in autopilot as Eva Stratt led you into the room. There you were, suddenly standing in front of what felt like a million eyes, all looking to you like you had answers. You had to remind yourself not to do the whole fish thing again as you just awkwardly gave a small wave, trying hard to keep your mouth shut. What am I doing?  You were a waitress at an alien themed restaurant, not a scientist…at least not anymore. 

Stratt introduced you to the room, briefly detailing your credentials to be here. You had kept your gaze straight, scared to look in either direction, straight was safe, straight was easier. You had imagined what it would be like seeing him again, more times than you would ever like to admit, and this was nowhere close to what you thought it would ever be. In a room surrounded by some of the world's most important people. 

“This is Dr. (last name),” you hadn’t been referred to as that in a while…and you could not lie, it felt kinda good. “She has researched the Tau Ceti system most of her career and will help us identify why exactly the Tau Ceti star is the only one not losing energy”

Great. They really loved leaving out the important details. You knew the star, probably more than the back of your hand but there was still immense mystery to it.

“Anything you want to share, Doctor?” Stratt finished, turning the room over to you and you made the one mistake, moving your head. There, at the left end of the table was him, Dr. Grace. Not an email, not a letter or postcard, not a lingering memory…no it was really him, looking at you. Every emotion you had ever felt about him hit you at once in a way that made you want to grab on to the nearest wall so as to not crumble to the ground. Ryland, your Ryland, the same one you remember, albeit a little older, a little more tired. Your heart stuttered for a moment, actually stuttered, like it too had forgotten how to function. And all you could do was muster a small wave. Nothing could have prepared you. 

You had spent years pretending that he wasn’t the sun of your own personal solar system. It turned out that was much easier when he was not standing feet away from you, his glasses practically falling off his face.

You swallowed, mouth running dry. And funny as it was, after all the years, after all the anticipation and wondering, your body eventually went back to the familiar state it always did when it saw him. You softened. Your heart beat steadied and your breathing returned to something much more normal.

Stratt cleared her throat, your eyes snapping back to hers.

“Um…Tau Ceti is… pretty dang cool,” you finally choked out, the people around the room sharing looks between each other. “...Thank you”.

Sporadic, unsure claps filled the room as you took a step back, ready to smash your head through the nearest wall. You did not lie, Tau Ceti was pretty freaking cool. But you were sure that was not what the Patrova Taskforce really needed to hear from you at that moment. 

“Thank you,” Stratt said, a slight shake of her head, before she gestured towards the empty chair in the one section of the room you had planned on avoiding for at least a little longer. You tried to ignore her before one of the men in suits began to guide you there himself.

Each step you took felt heavy, like your body was trying to stop you. But there was the other part, your heart racing in anticipation, in want. This was what you had wanted, your work hadn’t been the same without him. You two brought out a fire in each other, seeing the best in the mess of crazy ideas the two of you brought to the table. The two of you.

As you walked down the table, a few of the other scientists took turns shaking your hand, welcoming you on board. Maybe your speech was not a total mess afterall. You hadn’t even realized you had made it to the end of the table, his hand reaching yours before your brain could catch up. 

“Tau Ceti is pretty dang cool,” the familiar voice spoke. Your eyes immediately met his and you felt like the world had stopped for just a second. Every version of him you remembered and every version you didn’t hit you all at once. Then you felt him squeeze your hand, his head slightly tilting. “Earth to alien girl?”

It was an odd feeling, seeing someone after so long. The memory of him was hazy until that very moment. You had tried so hard to remember the shade of his eyes and the way they kinda squinted up when he laughed. You had tried to commit those things to memory, tried to live through the pictures, but nothing compared seeing them in-person, in front of you.

You tried to form words, frozen in place, only coming back to reality as Stratt began to talk once more. You quickly sat down, pulling your hand from his and forcing your attention forward.

There were a few seconds where neither of you spoke, ignoring the weight of his eyes on you. You were supposed to be professionals…since when were you ever professionals? You were on a boat, with the world's best scientists, saving the planet…next to your best friend. And somehow, that felt like the most overwhelming part. You were sure your brain would eventually catch up one day, the shock fading with every minute that passed.

Then he slightly shifted in his chair, “Pretty dang cool?” he asked, just loud enough for you to hear, just like the two of you used to do in those alien class lectures. A smile grew on your face, one you tried to bite back.

“I panicked,” you whispered back, eyes still focused forward on Stratt, nodding along to words you weren’t even hearing. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was smiling too.

The silence again, the silence of years of pushing off visits and ignoring the hard questions. It made you twitch slightly, racking your mind for anything to ease it.

“So, are you the one responsible for the U.S. government pretty much knocking down my door this morning?” you whispered from the quiet, a slight quirk of your brow, gaze still set forward. 

“Guilty,” he said, seeing him lift his hands in mock surrender in the peripheral of your vision. You could almost roll your eyes at how predictable the response was, slightly nudging his foot with yours under the table. He let out a quiet, breathy laugh, one you wanted to be the reason for forever.

“I didn’t think you would come,” he spoke again, his words softer this time, real.

Those were the words that broke your focus, your head turning to meet his gaze, really meeting his gaze, for the first time.

“Kinda didn’t have a choice,” you replied, half-joking, the other half completely honest, thinking back to the morning and the woman who was now commanding the room. Then you smiled, looking back at him, “But I would have come regardless”.

Even if you still weren’t exactly sure what all this was, what you had somehow signed up for. Even if it made you question who you were, why you were here…what you were to him.

You looked down to your lap. You were among the greats because Ryland Grace said you should be. You were not quite sure yet if that was reassuring or terrifying.

“It’s gonna be like old times, huh?” he added, as if it would make it all easier. “You know, you and me, figuring things out, putting the pieces together”.

Fuck. That did not make it any easier.

The meeting breezed by in a blur, words flying all around you as you tried to catch up to speed with what exactly was happening. You could pick out Petrova Line, Astrophage, Tau Ceti, among several other things you weren’t quite sure on. 

And then it was quiet. Just you and him, alone, in a room that now felt much too big. You both started talking at the same time-

“So-”

“Hey-”

You stopped, laughed, apolgized…tried again.

Then you did the exact same thing once more.

“Out of sync,” you joked, a quiet laugh, as the adrenaline wore off and gave way to a feeling you could not describe. You knew him but then again, it had been years. It was finding the balance between an old friend and a stranger. 

“It’s been a little bit, huh?” he added, hands digging into the pocket of his jeans. You finally got a glimpse of his shirt, a science pun you were sure he was so excited to show his class of middle schoolers. 

“Yeah, just a little bit,” you added, feeling exposed now without the other people in the room, the slightest bit bitter that it had taken all this to see him again. But then again, who really was to blame for that? You looked down at the ground for a second, shuffling your feet against the floor, racking your brain for anything.

 “So…saving the sun?”

You barely got the words out before he stepped forward, closing the space between the two of you, pulling you into a hug. So tight, like you might disappear. You stood there for a second, air caught in your throat before you caved into the feeling. Your arms looped around him, head rested against his chest, as if this was something the two of you just did.

“I missed you,” he said, honest, real.

You stayed there, just together, quiet in the chaos of the day.

“I missed you too,” you finally let yourself say, quiet as if the whole world was listening and you wanted it to be just for him. “Why me?”

He quickly pulled away, as if he was shocked into motion, a wild look on his face, you almost started laughing.

“What?” he gasped out, dramatic as ever.

‘What do you mean ‘what’?” you countered, slightly shoving him in the chest. “Why am I here, dumbass?”

“Hey, so first, we are not cursing anymore,” he scolded, his voice morphing into something you only imagine came from years of teaching. “Second, you are the only person I know who would be crazy enough to show up here”.

He shrugged as if it all was nothing, that dumb smile on his face, as he began to move towards the door. “And you would kill me if I got to research Tau Ceti and you didn’t get the invite”.

You wanted to interject, fight it, but you knew, deep down somewhere, that Ryland never stopped knowing you and you never quite stopped loving him. 

“You just gonna stand there?” he asked, already at the door, holding it open. “Or are we gonna do some science?”

It really was like no time had passed between college and now…well if you ignored the millions of dollars worth of equipment now at your complete disposal. It’s funny, the way the body reverts back to old habits. The way Ryland and you moved in the lab was your own sort of rhythm, brains connected in a way that seemed almost superhuman. You needed to grab a tool, he dropped it on your desk before you could even move. He had a question, you were answering it as the question left his mouth…then he would smile at you and roll his eyes and go back to his work. It should have felt different after all this time…and it just didn’t. It was dangerous. And it was so wonderful.

The Vat, or Stratts Vat as everyone began to call it, was a hodgepodge of every science you had ever dreamed of. You could talk to a biologist from across the world and then suddenly meet an engineer who happened to be from your hometown. For a while you pretended that this wasn’t what you wanted, you ached to go back to what was safe and comfortable. But as you stood there, another day on the boat, you realized that maybe this is what you had been waiting for. You were researching again, being curious, all the things your younger self could have only dreamed of. 

Your days were mostly spent with Ryland, the two of you poking at astrophage while you dug through old research papers you had on Tau Ceti. Your presentation was coming up, only revealed to you a few mornings ago by Dr. Stratt. She had come into the lab early, you had just woken up, believing it to be a perfect time to tell you that you would be addressing the taskforce with any details you had on the planet system. You sat there, swiveling back and forth in your chair, your sidekick on the other side of the room jumping up and down about a new development in Astrophage breeding.

“I wish I had your energy right now,” you groaned out, shuffling through your notes.

“Tau Ceti not treating you well?” he asked, peaking his head around a shelving unit that slightly blocked your view. “Did you try taking it out to dinner first?”

All you could do was flip him the finger, scribbling notes at the same time. “You think I haven’t tried that yet?”

He let out a laugh, coming around to stand behind where you were sat working. You had been really trying, but there were some things that just needed to be seen to be understood…and one of those was Tau Ceti. You had theories, tons of them, hopefully enough to be of help.

“She is still my greatest mystery,” you admitted, turning your chair to face him.

“Well Rome was not built in one day,” he looked at you, a serious look on his face regardless of the word choice. “And Tau Ceti is not gonna be understood that quick either".

You let your head dramatically fall to rest on the desk, quietly groaning into the sleeves of your jacket. Then you felt Rylands hands on your head gently shaking it.

“Hey,” he began, a laugh already escaping him, you mentally preparing yourself for whatever he would be saying next. “Remember they used to call you the brain!”

“Uh, you used to call me the brain,” you retorted, lifting your head up and shoving his hands away. “and it was and still is stupid”.

He grabbed your head once more, shaking it around, “C’mon use the brain, I know it is in there somewhere”.

You turned to glare at him, his lopsided smile making it hard for you to be upset at anything. The energy settled down, the man leaning back against the desk across from you.

“Do you think this is all gonna work out?” you spoke up, looking back to your notes. “Tau Ceti and the Astrophage and all of it?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, blunt and honest. “But beats sitting around and waiting for it to solve itself…ar at least that it what I choose to tell myself”.

You just nodded, letting him fade back into his work as you faded back into yours. If Tau Ceti wasn’t enough, the constant push and pull between Ryland and you was. You told yourself to keep it easy, to ignore it, all those dumb feelings squashed down from college that threatened to bubble over any second. You buried yourself in your work, that was easiest. But there would be nights where you would fall asleep at your desk and wake up to a blanket thrown over you. Or mornings when the mess you left in the lab were cleaned up…and there would be Ryland, a small wave and a smile, doing a ‘cheers’ with his coffee mug. You could not let yourself read into it, because then it would be all the much harder to eventually pull away. 

The presentation day had come in a blur, you now standing once again in the front of that room, papers gripped so tightly in your hands. You were never good at the presenting part of it all. In the bustle of the room you were able to find him, him waving his hands above his head to get your attention. You smile, he shot over two giant thumbs up, and all you could muster was one half as enthusiastic one back. You turned to look through your notes when he caught your eye again, pointing at his head and mouthing “the brain”, which you could only roll your eyes in response, a quiet laugh fighting its way out of you.

“Alright everyone,” the powerful voice of Eva Stratt entered the room, coming to stand beside you in front of the projector screen. “As you know, Dr. (LAST NAME), has been working hard gathering information on Tau Ceti, which will be our final destination for this trip”.

Everyone around the room turned their full attention to you as the women gestured to you and took a seat. Deep breath. 

Your heart was jumping in all sorts of directions, as you fidgeted with the clicker, trying to get the presentation to flip to the next slide.

“Hi,” you began.

“Tau Ceti, it  is pretty dang cool!” Ryland called out from the back, heads turning to him, him once again shooting the thumbs up.

“Uh, yes…as Dr. Grace put it, "Tau Ceti is really ‘dang cool’,” some of the scientists laughed at that, the stress easing the littlest bit off your shoulder. You began clicking through slides, diagrams of the systems and the potential planets in its orbit. “Thank you for your enthusiasm”.

You took one last deep breath before diving right in, trusting yourself and the years of work you had put into this already.

“What makes Tau Ceti so interesting, while not an exact match, is that it has the potential to be the closest relative to our own solar system,” you began. “Which means, there is a great likelihood of it supporting life or even already having life within it.”

“Now we know that the Tau Ceti sun is the only star to have not been impacted by the Astrophage, however what is harder to understand is exactly why,” you continued, switching to the next slide, getting into a rhythm. It was easy when it was your whole life's passion. “Which is why our mission is going there, to better understand it…however I have some theories that could be useful to prepare our travelers for what exactly might be going on”.

There was first, the idea that the spectral output on Tau Ceti did not match that of what Astrophage was looking to feed on. However the spectral output is very similar to the Sun so it would have to be significantly off to be a problem, which was unlikely. Along with this, there could be some sort of natural defense, like dust specific to that atmosphere. However, the most exciting idea was that of evolutionary pressure…another lifeform that could be eating away at the Astrophage to keep it in balance. While so extremely far fetched, it was the one that made you the most excited to get the data back from the scientists on the Hail Mary. It could change everything that scientists know about that system.

“But the honest answer is, we don’t know until we get up there and bring back some samples,” you closed out. “Now we do have to be aware that this planet is around twelve lightyears away from us”. 

You were in a rhythm now, comfortable enough to really look up and around at the people in the room, several of them taking notes and nodding along. “Which means we are kinda looking at it in the past. The light we are seeing right now left Tau Ceti twelve years ago. Which is incredible, but there is the risk that this system is already gone or changed and we wouldn’t know until we get there”.

“However,” you flipped to your final slide. “The data we are able to gather from here points to strong evidence that this system is very alive and this trip will not only open doors for Astrophage but open up a world to an entirely new solar system that could be inhabited by human life”.

You clicked again, the slideshow coming to a close, “And, uh, yeah that is it from me…thanks guys”.

The sound of applause filled the room and you finally felt like you could actually breathe again rather than having to remind yourself to. Your face hurt from smiling, looking around the room, taking it in. You imagined your younger self, sat with her big telescope and book of constellations in a chair in the back. She is smiling, the biggest smile you have ever seen. She knew all those late nights would eventually pay off. Even after your original Tau Ceti lab fell through, even when you couldn’t find a job and ended up at an alien restaurant, even when your door got busted down by Eva Stratt…all those days led to this moment, right now. You wished you could go back and tell the girl in college that it would be okay, that she was enough, that one day she would do big things. But eventually she would learn and that made it all the more worth it.

And there was him too. You found his eyes in an instant, it seemed to be the first thing your body did. It was an old habit, one you could not break, nor really wanted to. He was beaming, an ear to ear smile, waving at you like you had just accomplished something so incredible and not just given a presentation. You made your way towards him, your bodies drawn together like magnets. However with each step you took, you felt like you were being pushed further and further away as people began to come up and shake your hand or ask you questions. Further and further until he faded away in the back of the crowd, now a lone hand stuck up above the crowd trying to get your attention. A thumbs up and you knew everything was gonna be okay.

----------

You were sitting at the bar, hot off the mic with Ilyukhina, who had forced you up against your will. The slight buzz in your head was enough to make you cave, you were sure that was the whole reason Ilyukhnia had insisted on getting you a few drinks at the start of the night. All of it leading to a horrific and yet kinda beautiful version of “Space Oddity” by David Bowie …it felt fitting.

She had bought you a final drink as a thank you, one you were nursing now, looking around the room. Grace had stayed late in the lab, normally you were there too, but the others in the lab had started to joke that you hated fun and you were determined to prove them wrong. You were fun! Very Fun.

You hadn’t been down to the bar before, didn’t quite understand how people could celebrate knowing what was approaching. You weren’t even on the ship and you could barely get your brain to settle at night enough to fall asleep. The room was full of people, singing, laughing, leaning into each other and finding comfort. It made you smile, maybe made this whole thing feel more real. It made the pit in your stomach worse. 

Your eyes caught on DuBois, a drunk Shapiro leaning against his arm, the two of them laughing together, in their own world. Your gaze lingered, unable to pull away. The way they could laugh togethering knowing that DuBois would be gone, not set to return. They had people here, people they were leaving and for the first time that really hit you. You tugged your gaze away, looking back down to the bottle of beer in your hands, half empty…it would stay that way. You couldn’t help it though, like it was a piece of art, you found yourself looking back at the two of them. She looked at him with a quiet kind of intimacy, like the two of them could know what the other was thinking without speaking a single word. They moved in a perfect rhythm, a messy, beautiful rhythm. They weren’t just leaving behind Earth, they were leaving behind their people…a chance at a normal life.

You were gonna be sick. Quickly you set your beer on the table and left the bar pushing through the groups of people singing until you were finally out onto the deck of the ship, cold wind smacking you in the face. You gasped for air, but no matter how much you took in, it still didn’t feel like enough.

The ocean was dark ahead, it was like an abyss and as you looked up, you were met with the bright stars, their shine almost too bright with no other lights around to dim them. You felt so small, and in the grand scheme of things you were, and it both terrified you and brought you some peace. 

Your grip was tight on the railing, it almost hurt. You needed to be stable, grounded, anything-

“Hey,” a familiar voice approached from behind, your body tensing before slowly relaxing. You didn’t have to turn back, just slightly nodded your head, an invitation. 

“Hey,” he repeated himself, this time softer, as he came around to your side, gripping onto the railing next to yours. “Earth to alien girl?”

“I thought you were working late?” you spoke up, anything to take your mind off earlier, get rid of the image of people who would never see each other again. 

“The lab gets kinda lame without a certain scientist analyzing everything I do,” he joked, but you could not get yourself to laugh. “I love your analyzing…that’s uh, that’s what I meant”.

It was almost a compliment, a small smile crept on your face that quickly faded out as another gust of wind hit you, the waves crashing below you. The two of you sat there in silence for longer than you ever had before.

“You okay?” he broke from the silence, turning his head to look at you.

You nodded, “Just cold”.

He nodded back, unconvinced you could tell, as he began to reach for his jacket regardless. You did not fight him on it, you were cold, maybe it would help. The chunky fox cardigan draped over your shoulders as he absentmindedly buttoned the top to keep it  from falling off of you. You mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’, bundling into the thick yarn. 

“So are you gonna tell me what is really wrong?” he spoke again, him still standing in front of you, adjusting the sweater so it covered you. You met his eyes, his head slightly tilting.

“Have you seen Dubois and Shapiro?” you finally allowed yourself to speak your thoughts into the air. 

He nodded, returning to stand next to you, leaning once again against the metal rails, "Yeah, they are definitely hooking up”.

“No,” You shook your head, “There’s something more, you can see it in the way they look at each other”.

The silence met the two of you again, the waves below you getting louder and louder, them in their own conversation. You wondered if the waves too had problems like this, if they thought about the world and what they were meant to be. You felt nauseous, you chose to blame sea sickness. It hurt even more because maybe you wished he would look at you like that. You supposed that was your last tether to Earth, last tether from making you lose your mind…it seemed to be him.

“I just cannot imagine knowing the person that you loved was gonna be gone in a few days, just out in space, floating…and you just never see them again. And you can’t even do anything about it” your voice slightly quivered, it was all too much. The several drinks in your system did little to ease your worry, you actually think it made it worse. “After I lost…after my parents, I mean, it took so long to be okay with not getting a goodbye. But they, I mean Shapiro gets to say goodbye. How do you even say that kind of goodbye knowing they are out there and will die, alone?”

You hadn’t realized how blurred your vision had gotten until you looked up, finding Ryland’s gaze, his eyes scanning your face. He had been there, in college, when your parents had passed, had sat up with you for weeks on end keeping you distracted, helping you stay on top of work when your world felt like it was ending. 

He carefully reached to wrap his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to his side, a silent kind of comfort, the kind you liked. You rested your head against his chest, melting into his touch, allowing him to be strong for you for a little. It made your head hurt, all of this and him…there was always him.

You weren’t sure how long it was before he spoke up again, you had counted at least twenty crashes of the waves against the boat. It seemed to be the only thing you could think about without falling apart.

“Where do you see yourself after all this?” he asked, pulling you the little bit tighter against him. You were not in the headspace to dig into that, nor the question he was asking. Because where did you go? You were doing the thing you had worked your whole life for and then what? Back to the restaurant? Back to serving punny dishes named after planets and pretending you were fulfilled? 

“Probably go home,” you began, your voice thin, a little shaky. “Can’t keep the Extraterrestrial Eatery without their best server for too long”.

It was supposed to be funny but it came out dejected. A quiet laugh escaped him at your words.

“That’s not-”

“That’s exactly what it is,” you cut him off, sharper than you meant it to be, gaze set down at your shoes, at the hem of his sweater, at anything that wouldn’t make you think so much. “That’s my life, Ryland”.

Before this your life had been small, so miniscule…your dreams seemed so far away. Now you were here, it was all right in front of you. You didn’t even think you would ever get this close to studying Tau Ceti, all the resources right there for you to use. 

“This…all of this is everything I ever worked for,” you continued. “Being here, doing things that actually matter, and then it’s just gonna be over”.

The lab, Tau Ceti…him. You had grown so used to it, too comfortable and the feeling of it being torn away felt weird. But that was life, you would adjust, or you would try.

“It doesn’t have to be over,” he offered, trying to comfort the ache in your words. And it hit you, with a force that could have sent you overboard. Your head snapped up, looking at him, you opened your mouth to say something but stopped yourself. 

“I gotta go,” you spoke, in a daze of sorts, his words replaying over and over in your head.

“Hey, no. Come on” he too stood up, no longer leaning against the railing. “Talk to me, I am here! We could go sing karaoke or  something, be stupid, forget about it”.

“You hate karaoke,” you countered, already edging towards the stairs back down into the boat.

“Maybe I could like it?”

“I am gonna go to bed,” you turned back to him, lying through your teeth. You searched his face once more, took a mental picture of him standing right there, breeze blowing through his hair, glasses slightly tilted. He looked perfect.

“It does not have to be over,” you repeated, more to yourself than to him, before ducking down into the stairs and back down the hall. You were sure he called your name but your body could not turn around. It could have been the alcohol in your system. Maybe you were losing your mind. Maybe it was a little bit of both, but your feet carried you right to Dr. Stratt’s office.

You didn’t even knock, pushing open the door, her head snapping up from the silence. Her eyes slightly narrowed, you standing there in the doorway, trying to catch your brain up to your movements. 

“Take me instead,” you blurted out, desperate. 

The woman did not react right away, just studied you, like she was weighing something you couldn’t see. 

“I have nothing keeping me here”.

At least, almost nothing.  

“I have worked my whole life for this,” you continued, words spilling out of you before you could even really think them through. “Tau Ceti is my everything and now I am here. And I can do it, I want to do it”.

You swallowed, a shaky breath, so loud in such a quiet room.

“I need to”.

You stood there, feeling so small in the doorway, waiting for something, anything that would confirm that you weren’t making a mistake. Doctor Stratt just nodded her head, short and direct, like she always was.

“Go get some sleep Doctor,” and you just nodded back, your brain going completely silent for the first time that night.

--------

When the explosion happened a few days later, it was all the justification Eva Stratt needed. The day had been a mess, the loss of those doctors devastating, the power of Astrophage even more extraordinary . There was no time to even process though, as just as quickly as it had happened, Dr. Stratt had pulled you into a conference room. The plans moved fast, there was no time to delay with launch day approaching. You agreed as quickly as it was proposed, Ilyukhnia sending you small thumbs up from across the table.

The explanation was a blur. The coma, the four year trip, the three hours until you would have to be ready. Three hours before your life changed forever. That was all it took for everything to become real. But you nodded along. You had a duty now, not only to yourself but to Dubois and Shapiro and all of humanity. For Ryland Grace and his students, for the young girls out there dreaming of studying the stars. It would all be worth it, for them. It had to be.

You made your way back towards the lab, moving in a sort of hazy trance. You were allowed a few personal items to bring with you on the ship, most of the ones you wanted to bring were stored on the shelves of your desk. A picture of you and Ryland at a weird alien museum your class had gone to. A photo of you with your parents on move-in day at college. Your favorite book. A journal of your personal notes. And that stupid alien shirt.

You smiled, piling the items into a box you kept in the lab, when the door came rattling open. 

Ryland Grace came stumbling into the lab practically lit on fire, out of breath, a million emotions on his face. You knew it before he even spoke the words.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a panic, searching your face, his eyes shooting in every direction, him taking steps closer to you.

“I don’t-”

“No, you aren’t doing this,” his stopped you. “What are you doing? They can’t just take you?”

“I volunteered,” you countered back, simple, straight to the point…it would make it easier. You turned back to the box, finishing placing the items, scared what looking back at him would do. He was quiet behind you and that hurt the most. Maybe it hurt because of the quiet, maybe it hurt because he didn't have more to say.

“This is it for me,” you said, still facing the box, busying yourself with organizing and reorganizing the objects, anything to keep from facing the truth. “I have studied Tau Ceti my whole life and now I am going to see it, I am going to help save this planet”.

“You don’t know that,” he bit back. “I mean we can hope but you have no idea if this is even gonna work-”

“Beats the alternative,” you countered.

“And what's the alternative?”

That made you turn, you finally facing him. He looked so tired, a mix of confusion, anger, sadness… somehow all at once. 

“This,” you admitted. “Going home to that apartment, living through pictures of a better time while I work that shitty job. That’s not living, that is not how I am going to live!”

“So what, now you are just going off to die?” he was upset, you hadn’t seen him like this in a while, not since his theory about water had not been received well in college.

“I am saving humanity”.

“Oh wow, yes, real courageous of you,” he retorted, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Fuck you Ryland,” you said, quiet, cold. “You’re the one who brought me here”.

His eyes snapped to yours, the two of you just looking at each other, breathing.

“And it was supposed to be a temporary thing,” he bit back. “Empahsis on the whole temporary part of this all. I mean, just a couple of days ago you were saying how you couldn’t imagine people having to say goodbye like this.” 

You didn't have the heart to tell him that you hadn't planned on saying goodbye to him at all. It was wrong, you knew that, selfish, but you couldn’t get yourself to do it. He was your last tether to Earth and it was growing thinner and thinner.

“I have nothing here for me,” you spoke from the silence.

“You have-” and then he stopped himself and your head once again snapped up to meet his eyes.

“Say it,” you spoke, quietly, pleading for him to say the one thing that could make you stay. “Please Ry, just say it”.

Everything hung there, floating in the air  and he couldn’t, his head just slightly shaking in disappointment. The tether snapped right there. 

“Okay,” it was so breathy, barely even a word. You had no more fight left in you, no words left to say, nothing he could do that would change your mind. He was too stuck in his ways, too stubborn. You grabbed the box, looking at him once more, before you shoved your way past him and out the door of the office. It was quiet, too quiet down that hallway and when you looked back he was looking at you and you just gave him a smile, a small one…I will learn to forgive you.

You felt no regret.

Not when Eva Stratt thanked you for your sacrifice. Not when the doctors came in and prepared the injection that would put you under. Not even when the needle pierced your skin. You only did, just for a second, when you heard your name. When his voice called through the room, faint but desperate. It was muffled, your vision growing thinner and thinner, fading at the edges. The voice just grew quieter and quieter. A hand gripped tightly onto yours, shaking you more and more until you felt nothing at all.

----------

The first thing you realize is that you cannot open your eyes, like they are glued shut. You squeeze them a couple times, blinking over and over until they finally force themselves open.

So bright!

You should have just kept them close. You blink a few more times.

Then you realize that you can’t move, and not because your arms are stiff…no, there is a giant, what you could best describe as, plastic bag wrapped around you.

“Eye movement detected,” you  practically jump out of your skin at the sound disrupting the silence. The voice is clean, almost inhuman, as it once again repeats its previous statement. 

You try to move your arms, nothing. Your legs, nothing. Your fingers…just a little bit. The feeling of helplessness crashes all over you at once as you come to the slow realization that this was not just a bad case of sleep paralysis. 

Before you could even begin to make sense of it, a giant robotic hand swept across your vision, reaching down to unzip the human sandwich bag you were being trapped in. Now was your change, you shifted your weight as much as you could side to side until you rolled and made contact with the hard floor. A groan escaped you, the only sound you could really get out.

What the actual fuck?

There are tubes, connected in places you didn’t even know were possible. But nothing was as alarming as the realization that you had no idea where you were…no idea who you were. You looked around in a panic, trying to worm around off the ground, the robot hand stopping you in your place, lifting you off the ground and placing you back onto the table. You left out a mix of muffled objections, the most you could muster…your vocal chords were somehow still waking up. The computer acted before you could even protest, removing all the tubes, sensations you had never felt before and hoped to never feel again. At least, you assumed you had never felt them before. 

You saw it as your chance, the robot hand busy putting the tubing away, you jumping off the table and immediately crumbling to the ground. 

“Fuck!” the sound surprised you…you were making progress. Using the little strength and feeling in your limbs that you had, you scooted and crawled across the floor. Where was the door? Your head snapped back and forth, up and- There it was, on the ceiling, of course it was. The ladder connected to it seemed daunting but what choice did you have.

The robot spoke again, speaking a name, or you assumed it was, “detected, alive”.

It must have been your name, huh, you didn’t completely hate it. You continued to move across the floor, slow, scared that the robot arm might just yank you right back into the air. 

“Movement detected in the dormitory," the robotic voice spoke once again, causing you to speed up. It was trying to blow your cover, ruin your plan. Who knew, there might be a whole army of robots up there ready to get you. With each scoot across the floor, the feeling in your limbs began to find itself again. By the time you reached the ladder you were able to somewhat pull yourself up, each step getting harder and harder. You were tired, even if it seemed you had just woken up from some coma-like situation. You reached the top, banging the door over and over until it eventually popped up.

Reaching the top, standing on solid ground again was a feeling you had a new respect for. Then you turned your head…and you came to the jarring realization that you weren’t on solid ground at all. A giant window looking out into the great plane of stars…you were in space. You took slow, cautious steps towards the window, scared that you might somehow get sucked out. 

It was beautiful, you were at a loss of words for a reason other than your inability to talk. 

“Holy shoot,” a voice spoke from behind you, you stumbled slightly turning around, throwing your hand up in defense. “You are awake”.

“Am I?” you asked, genuinely…you wouldn’t have been shocked if you had died and were now in some weird waiting room. 

The look on the man's face was one of relief and that was enough to slowly allow your hands to fall back to your side. He seemed slightly more put together than you were, except for the glasses titled slightly on his face…though he made no move to readjust them. Maybe he was an alien and that was how they wore their glasses? Were you an alien too?

“Where am I? What is this? What…” you trailed off, once again catching a glimpse of the stars. The feeling was hard to explain, like you were floating in your own head, nothing there but faint blurry glimpses of something that you knew came before this. But no matter how hard you fought, you could not get yourself to decipher the memories. “I can’t remember what…”

He nodded as you spoke, and you knew he understood. You couldn’t understand, but your body softened slightly, your heart beat became steady and your breathing returned to something much more normal. 

“I, uh, I woke up a couple days ago…in that room,” he tried to explain, looking as if he too was piecing it together in real time. “Where do I even start…”

You stood there, helpless, waiting for something.

“We are in space,” you rolled your eyes at his words, pointing out at the window next to the two of you. “Oh right, well, just clarifying”.

“Anything else genius?” you didn’t mean to come across as on edge but you were confused and hungry and annoyed that your brain could not do what it was meant to do.

“We aren’t in our own solar system,” he spoke again, finally with some seriousness to his tone, you perking up and meeting his gaze. “We are, according to the map in the control room, in the Tau Ceti system about twelve lightyears away from Earth”.

He trailed off on the last word, giving you a second to absorb…but you were not a sponge and your brain was rejecting all of it. It made no sense, it was insane…but so was the giant robotic arm that picked you up earlier. 

“We were sent here for a reason,” he finished. “I just am not sure what exactly that is yet”.

He then paused, a long pause, like he was choosing his next words carefully, “we were sent in a group of four”.

“Oh,” you looked up at him, a feeling of relief washing over you, maybe they knew more, maybe they had been awake for longer. “Well, let’s just go pick their brains?”

“They didn’t make it,” he added, the words sitting heavy in the air.

You just nodded, unsure of what to say, scared of how it would all feel once your memories began to trickle back like his were. 

Would they have been your friends? Would the grief hit you later? The words sat weird in your stomach, even weirder knowing that there was a time where you knew everyone on this ship, there was a time where you knew why you were there. People who were your friends and now it was just you and strangers, chosen by some sort of fate to survive. 

“What happened to them?”

“What am I? Your magic eight ball,” he joked, a weak attempt at trying to lighten the mood…you hated that it made you smile the way it did. “Don’t fight it, I know it was funny.”

“Oh wait, the memories are coming back…” you pretended to think, before letting a blank look spread on your face. “You’re an asshole”.

He threw his arms in mock defense and you weren’t sure why but it all felt so natural.

“I found some vodka earlier,” he offered up, a shitty solution, a temporary one for sure, but a solution nonetheless.

“We brought vodka?” you paused. “At least we know we had fun”.

He laughed and you laughed too, anything to keep you from thinking about what this all was, what this meant and how exactly you get back to Earth from twelve light years away.

The man, who you learned was named Ryland Grace, took you around the rooms he had already spent time exploring. The labs…so you were scientists? Then the controls, and the space suits and the shelves of equipment that you could not even begin to understand. He eventually showed you a small closet, one containing boxes labeled with four names, pulling the one with yours on it down. 

In yours were some pictures…one of the two of you, so you were friends? Maybe? You should go with friends for now. Then a picture of two older individuals stood next to you, in front of the sign of a college…they must have been your parents. Did they know you were up in space? Did they send you up here? The thought made your head hurt so you stopped, tucking it away, it was for another day. There were too many questions floating as is. Then the shirt, a giant shirt that confused that shit out of you even more. You took it out of the box, holding it up to show him and the two of you just burst out laughing. 

“So I have bad taste in clothing?” you asked, trying to regain your breathing, him wiping away the tears from his eyes. 

“You should see some of the other clothes people brought,” and those words were just the start. Too much vodka flowing through your system, the two of you found comfort in trying on stupid hats and shirts packed throughout the ship. At some point you found yourself collapsed on the floor with him, laying there, the bag of alcohol laying between the two of you.

You talked for hours that night…well you assumed it was night, trying to hypothesize about who the two of you might have been. Were you smart? Where had the two of you met? Were you friends? Somewhere in your mind you felt like there was something else there. But you did not want to dig there, when you tried your head would just pound right back. So you laid there, accepting the silence of space, accepting that none of it made sense.

“I am glad I am not alone,” he spoke up from the silence, so quiet you might have missed it.

“I am not sure why, but I feel like we were meant to do this together,” you replied, turning your head to the side to look at him.

ryland didn’t even look up it. “option one: we open it and potentially discover advanced human knowledge. option two: we don’t open it and i slowly lose my mind wondering what’s inside.”

“option three,” you added, “we don’t open it and you will forever be curious about the content but hey, at least you'd still be alive!”

he glanced up at you with a grin that immediately told you he was not going to pick option three.

you pushed off the console, already exasperated. “ryland last time you said ‘this’ll probably be fine,’ we almost suffocated.”

“counterpoint,” he said, straightening and placing a hand on the latch, “almost.”

you sighed.

“i just don’t like it,” you said for what was probably the fifth time.

ryland made a thoughtful humming sound that meant the exact opposite.

“you don’t like anything that comes from rocky.”

you crossed your arms without taking your eyes off the object. “that is objectively untrue. i like the parts that don’t explode, corrode, or attempt to rewrite the laws of physics.”

“so…. none of it?”

“exactly.”

pause.

just when ryland reached for the cylinder, you spoke out again.

“and just for the record….” you said, voice flat, “i am deeply against whatever you’re about to do.”

“come on. what’s the worst that could happen?”

you dragged a hand down your face, already bracing for disaster. “okay, i need you to understand that that phrase is cursed. like, historically cursed. civilizations have fallen after someone said that.”

he ignored you.

of course he ignored you.

the seal popped before you could argue more. the cylinder hissed open with a soft, pressurized sound.

for a second, nothing happened.

you leaned forward slightly, squinting, peering into the opening, expecting… something. a device. a sample. anything.

“okay.… maybe it’s empty—”

poof!

a burst of fine gold dust shot out of the container in slow motion, catching the light as it drifted upward and outward, directly into both your faces before either of you could react.

“oh— come on—!” you coughed immediately, stumbling back and waving your hands uselessly through the air. “why is it always airborne—”

“i didn’t—” ryland coughed too, turning his head and blinking rapidly. “i didn’t know it was going to do that!”

“it’s a mysterious alien container, of course it was going to do that!”

the dust settled almost as quickly as it appeared, vanishing into nothing. no residue, no smell, no visible trace that anything had even happened.

you both stood there, breathing hard, staring at each other.

“….okay,” you said slowly. “status report.”

he blinked a few more times, then patted his arms, his torso, like he might find damage. “uhhh…. lungs: functioning. skin: not melting. vision: normal.”

“define normal.”

“i can see you glaring at me, so, yeah. normal.”

you exhaled. “great. fantastic. we inhaled space dust and survived. love that for us.”

“see?” he said, already relaxing. “nothing to worry about.”

you pointed at him sharply. “you do not get to say that. you lost that privilege the moment you opened it.”

“fair.”

then there was a beat.

“so…. that’s it?” you asked.

he peered into the cylinder, turning it upside down. only the residue of the dust fell, nothing else was inside.

“that’s it.” he confirmed.

“….okay,” you said finally, though your voice carried a thin edge of disbelief. “either that was completely harmless, or we just inhaled something that’s going to kill us slowly and mysteriously.”

“statistically,” ryland said, already turning back toward the console, “it’s probably the second one.”

“great,” you muttered. “love that for us.”

“yep.” he clicked his tongue and made a double finger gun. “nailed it.”

only for a while.

only for a while, it actually seemed like he was right.

you two ran scans, double-checked the air composition, monitored your vitals like you were waiting for them to spike into something dramatic and undeniable. everything came back normal. no toxins, no foreign pathogens, no radiation spikes, nothing that explained the golden dust or what it was supposed to do.

it should have been reassuring.

it wasn’t.

because about an hour in, you noticed something off.

not dramatic. not alarming. but subtle enough.

you shifted in your seat, tugging slightly at the collar of your yellow jumpsuit. the fabric suddenly felt too close, too warm against your skin.

“hey,” you said, not looking up from your screen. you were in your station in the lab, your back facing ryland. “did the temperature go up?”

ryland glanced at the panel beside him. “nope. holding steady.”

“huh.” you leaned back, frowning. “feels warmer.”

“maybe you’re just stressed.”

you snorted. “yeah, because inhaling unknown alien particles was such a relaxing experience.”

you tried to ignore it.

it didn’t work.

because by the second hour, it got worse. worse enough that it distracted you from doing your job. and the off feeling didn’t go away. it deepened.

you were restless now, shifting every few minutes, hyper-aware of your own body in a way that was getting increasingly distracting.

“okay, nope. something’s happening.” you said, standing up. you zipped down your suit. it pooled around your waist and left you in nothing but a dark green tank top you wore underneath. now you looked like a formula 1 driver walking around the garage in the middle of a malaysian heat.

except you were pretty sure that the heat in malaysia was tolerable and the drivers were used to it.

this, whatever this was however, was far from it.

“i'm sure it's nothing—” ryland finally turned but then paused.

“what?” you asked as you tied your hair into a ponytail.

he was sitting still. too still. his posture was stiff, shoulders slightly tense, like he was holding himself in place. his jaw tightened and his eyes that were currently fixated on you slightly dilated.

“....ryland?”

he flinched, snapping back to the present. he fixed his glasses while his eyes withdrew, focusing on somewhere else but you.

“yeah?” his voice came out a little too quick. a little too tight.

you narrowed your eyes. “you okay?”

“fine. totally fine.”

“….you don’t look fine.”

he let out a short laugh that didn’t sound entirely natural. “well, looks can be deceiving.”

“you’re flushed.”

“it’s warm,” he said immediately. “i’m…. internally warm.”

“....that’s not a thing.”

“it is now.”

you crossed your arms, studying him.

“you’re acting weird.”

ryland scratched the back of his neck. you did not miss the way he licked his lips. and there was a faint flush creeping across his face, coloring his cheeks and the tips of his ears, subtle but unmistakable once you saw it.

“nothing. nothing. um—”

you frowned. “are you okay?”

“yes, yes,” he cleared his throat while still staring at a very specific spot on the floor, like he was avoiding your eyes.

“okay….” you turned, walking back to your station, trying to not let his sudden weird behaviour get to you. it's ryland. he was always a bit odd, even back on earth when you first met him on the ship.

by hour three, thankfully you finished your work quickly because the heat was no longer tolerable.

“fuck….” you muttered under your breath, standing up and started pacing around.

ryland was still busy with his duct-taped-computers, probably working on the algorithm to translate rocky's melodic language.

he stopped typing on the keyboard and grabbed his notebook, writing something there now.

your paces halted. and unfortunately your brain decided that right now was the perfect time to let your eyes wander to his arms out of all places.

you didn’t know why but it just happened.

you didn't get to stop yourself. you brain drifted, catching on the absolute ridiculous size of his biceps. since when did he work out? the thought of middle school science teacher ryland grace going to the gym and working out during the weekends got more ridiculous the more you think of it.

you should have stopped. should have sat back down and worked or went to take a nap or— oh my god his veins—

you flinched.

jesus, what the fuck?

since when the fuck did you notice that?

nope. absolutely not.

you squeezed your eyes shut briefly, exhaling through your nose like that might reset your brain.

it didn't.

you sighed, audible enough just to your ears. your gaze flicked, just for a second, and then immediately snapped back to somewhere else.

that was a mistake.

because now you knew, and knowing made it harder not to look again.

your brain, completely unhelpful, decided to supply additional commentary. since when does he have arms like that? it asked, again, like this was new information, like you hadn’t been working side by side with him for months.

you squeezed your eyes shut briefly, exhaling through your nose. get it together. this was ryland. your crew mate. your friend. the only other human being alive within literal light-years.

and yet—

“…oh, for fuck's sake,” you cursed under your breath.

“what?” ryland immediately turned, ears sharp enough to hear you. he looked concerned for a bit.

“nothing,” you said quickly. too quickly.

he adjusted his glasses. “that did not sound like nothing.”

“it’s nothing.”

ryland tilted his head. a hint of amusement decorating his face.

“you were staring at me,” he pointed out.

you jerked your gaze away. “i was not.”

“you absolutely were.”

“i was not,” you insisted sharper, which would have been more convincing if you hadn’t immediately glanced back at him again.

he let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “wow. okay. so it’s not just me. good to know.”

you pressed a hand to your forehead, giving up on your pretenses. “no, it is definitely not just you.”

you paced again a few more steps, trying to shake it off, but it didn’t help. if anything, it made you even more hyperaware of everything. your breathing, the air, him.

and by the fourth hour, denial was no longer an option.

“okay, that's it.” you said, pacing now because sitting still felt impossible, “we need to figure out whatever the hell this is.”

“yep,” ryland said, standing up simultaneously.

“define what you’re feeling,” you asked.

he hesitated. “uh, okay. so, scientifically?”

“obviously.”

“i feel…. distracted,” he started, frowning slightly as he tried to articulate it. “like my brain keeps…. derailing. and also—” he stopped.

he looked at you and held his gaze for a second too long.

“ryland.”

“.…also very aware of you,” he finished.

pause.

“define 'aware'. like when you were staring at me?”

“i wasn't—” he stopped, then frowned, like he was trying to catch his own thoughts mid-escape. “....okay, maybe i was.”

you crossed your arms. “why?”

“i don’t know,” he said immediately, which somehow felt worse than any actual answer. “i just— looked up and— there you were.”

“i’m always here!”

“yes,” he said, a little too quickly. “i am aware of that. conceptually. but right now it’s…. more noticeable.”

you stared at him.

“more noticeable.” you repeated.

he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “that sounded weird.”

“it sounded very weird.”

“i meant it in a normal, non-weird way!”

“there is no version of that sentence that is normal, ryland!”

“you were staring at me too!” he reminded.

you opened your mouth, then shut it again, abandoning whatever argument you were about to attempt. he got you there.

then you sighed. you realized that you both seem to be doing that a lot today.

“you know what? nevermind. just— are there any other symptoms? like what, hormones? perception? impulse control?”

“all of the above, probably.”

you exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to think. maybe it was—

“....the dust,” you said suddenly, stopping in your tracks.

he went still. “what?”

you pointed at the cylinder. “it has to be that.”

“yeah,” he said, nodding slowly like he just pieced all the puzzles together now. “yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, that makes sense. mysterious alien substance, unknown effects, sudden onset of—” he gestured vaguely between you “—this.”

you raised an eyebrow. “'this?'”

“i don’t have a better word!”

“well, find one!”

“i’m a scientist, not emily bronte!”

you dragged both hands down your face. “oh my god.”

“okay,” you continued. “let's not panic. let us all calm down…. so, we agreed we got exposed to an unknown particulate substance.”

“yep.”

“we’re experiencing…. thermal dysregulation.”

“yep.”

“and—” you hesitated, “—behavioral anomalies.”

he made a small, distressed noise. “that is a very scientific way to say that i cannot stop staring at your lips.”

you frowned. “you were staring at my lips?”

“and you were staring at my arms! we can do this all day.” he said defensively.

“did you just quote the sequels— nevermind. not important.”

you pressed your lips together. which, unfortunately, made his eyes drop there again.

you both noticed, and you both looked away at the same time.

“….okay,” he said, pacing once, like movement might fix this. “okay, okay, okay, okay, we can figure this out. we always figure things out.”

“right,” you said, latching onto that. “we analyze.”

“we observe.”

“we hypothesize.”

“we do not panic.”

“we are absolutely not panicking.”

you were both very clearly panicking.

“let’s list everything again.” he said, forcing steadiness into his voice. “all symptoms. no judgment.”

“no judgment,” you agreed.

“elevated body temperature.” he started.

“check.”

“heightened sensory awareness.”

“check.”

“uh.…” he hesitated, visibly struggling. “increased…. focus on.… specific.… features?”

you folded your arms tighter. “check.”

“compulsive attention,” he added weakly.

“check.”

he swallowed. “and a— a noticeable shift in, uh—”

“attraction?” you said bluntly.

he closed his eyes. “yeah. that.”

the word hung there.

too heavy.

too accurate.

you both went very still. because once it was said like that, clean, clinical, undeniable, something in your brain clicked into place.

not just the symptoms.

the pattern.

your mind started pulling threads together, faster now. the dust. the delivery method. the lack of any visible organism. the immediate onset being minimal, then escalating over time.

you frowned, thinking harder.

“okay,” you said slowly. “if this were any known terrestrial system, particulate exposure with delayed onset behavioral changes would suggest—”

“toxins,” he said automatically.

“but there’s no impairment,” you countered.

“cognitive function is intact. motor function is intact. we’re not disoriented.”

“right,” he said, catching up. “so not a neurotoxin.”

“and not a pathogen,” you added. “no immune response. no inflammation.”

“so it’s not attacking us.”

“it’s.… affecting us.”

you both went quiet again, thinking.

he ran a hand through his hair, pacing again, faster this time. “okay, so— delivery system: aerosolized particulate. effect: behavioral modification. targeted toward—”

he stopped.

you watched it happen. the exact moment the realization hit him.

his entire posture went rigid.

“.…no,” he said.

your stomach dropped. “what?” you asked, even though something in you already knew but refused to acknowledge it.

he looked at you. then away. then back again, like he wished reality would swap out for a better option.

“no, no, no, no, no, no,” he muttered, shaking his head. “that’s— that’s not—”

“ryland,” you said, sharper now. “what.”

he gestured helplessly toward the empty cylinder. “there were no organisms. no plant matter. nothing visible. which means whatever this is, it doesn’t rely on traditional biological structures.”

“okay….?”

“which means,” he continued, words picking up speed like he couldn’t stop them now, “it could be a synthetic analog. or an alien biochemical system that doesn’t follow earth-based taxonomy. something that mimics a known function without the same physical form—”

“ryland.”

he stopped and looked at you.

you held his gaze.

“….say it,” you said quietly.

he hesitated. like if he didn’t say it, it wouldn’t be real.

“....on earth,” he started, carefully, “there are airborne particulates that influence behavior in very specific ways.”

your chest tightened.

“they’re typically produced by plants,” he went on. “released into the air. inhaled. they trigger physiological responses that.… alter attraction. increase reproductive drive. reduce inhibition—”

your breath caught.

he exhaled, defeated.

“....pollen,” he finished.

silence.

thick.

absolute.

you stared at him.

he stared back.

“that’s not possible,” you said, even as your brain was already connecting it. "that's not fucking possible. what the fu—”

“i know,” he said quickly. “i know. there were no plants. there’s no visible biological structure. it doesn’t make sense.”

“so it’s not pollen.”

“it’s not plant pollen,” he corrected weakly.

you both paused.

“….but it’s doing the same thing,” you said.

“.…yeah.”

another silence. longer this time.

he let out a hollow laugh, dragging a hand down his face. “that’s— wow. okay. that’s just— fantastic. amazing. incredible. we got hit with alien…. pseudo-pollen that—”

he stopped himself.

you finished it for him. “that makes people…. like this.”

he nodded, looking like he wanted to walk directly into space.

you swallowed. your skin still felt too warm. thoughts still kept drifting back to him.

to his hands. arms. the way he was looking at you right now.

you dropped your hands. wanna know the worst part of this? it's that now that you understood it, it didn’t make it stop. it just made it clearer.

“.…we’re in trouble,” you said quietly.

he nodded, equally quiet.

“yeah,” he said. “we really are.”

“and rocky just gave it to us with no warning?”

“to be fair,” ryland said, “he might not have known humans would react like this.”

you stopped pacing. “react like what, exactly?”

“....like this,” he said weakly. “he probably thinks this is how humans reproduce. like, 'here, have some breeding dust, make more crew for the mission!'” ryland continued.

“oh, jesus fucking tap-dancing christ.”

another pause.

longer this time.

he shifted his weight. “okay. solution-oriented thinking. we just… wait it out.”

“wait it out,” you repeated.

“yep. it’s a chemical thing, right? it’ll metabolize, wear off, we go back to normal, and we never speak of this again.”

“never,” you agreed quickly.

“not even a little bit.”

“not even in a funny anecdote way.”

“especially not in a funny anecdote way.”

he removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes shut tight while his other hand was gripping the edge of his desk for dear life. firm, almost rigid, like it was the only thing anchoring him in place. “good plan. great plan. love that plan.”

you stopped pacing and looked at him properly.

really looked.

the flush hadn’t faded, it had deepened. his breathing was just slightly off, not enough to be obvious unless you were paying attention, but you were paying attention now. and the way he was holding himself. tense, contained, like he was actively stopping himself from—

“....ryland,” you said slowly.

“yeah.” he did not look at you.

“....why are you holding onto the table like it’s about to float away?”

he let out a short, strained laugh.

“because if i don’t,” he said, voice tight in a way that made something in your chest twist, “i might do something incredibly stupid.”

your stomach dropped. “define 'stupid.'”

his eyes flicked up to yours, and whatever you saw there made your breath catch.

“i think,” he said quietly, “you already know.”

pause.

you stole a look at him. ryland had gone very still, hands braced on the edge of the console, head bowed like he was trying to think his way out of this. he looked just as wrecked as you are. tense, flushed, jaw tight like he was grinding through it.

the lab suddenly felt too small, like the walls had inched closer, like the air had thickened into something you had to push through just to breathe. you were still standing too close to each other. close enough to feel the heat rolling off him. close enough that every tiny shift felt amplified. and neither of you seemed able to take that one simple step back.

you both pretended to think. which would’ve been easier if your thoughts weren’t constantly derailing.

“okay,” ryland said finally, too quickly, like he’d been holding the word in his mouth for a while. he wasn’t looking at you. he hadn’t been looking at you for a solid minute now, which somehow made it worse. “solution. we need a solution.”

you nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “yeah. yeah, obviously.”

he paced once, twice, hands flexing at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. “we don’t know the duration of the effect. could be hours, could be longer.”

“right,” you said, your voice coming out tighter than you meant.

“it might not get worse,” he said quickly.

you both paused.

“....it’s definitely getting worse,” you said.

“yeah,” he admitted. “yeah, that’s fair.”

another stretch of silence followed, thick and charged and deeply unhelpful.

another beat. he stopped mid-pace, suddenly locking eyes on your lips again as you bit the lower one in concentration. a visible shiver ran through him.

you, meanwhile, were transfixed by the way his t-shirt stretched across his chest when he breathed. arms. shoulders. that stupid little strand of hair falling over his forehead.

it was ridiculous. you were both adults. professionals. stuck on a ship light-years from home with an entire species depending on you not screwing this up.

and yet.

both of you looked away at the same time.

he continued pacing, then he straightened slightly, like he’d latched onto something solid. “okay. i’ve got it.”

you perked up. “yeah?”

“isolation.”

silence.

“what?” your voice came out small.

“we isolate,” he repeated, more firmly now, like saying it again would make it more reasonable. “separate areas of the ship. minimal contact. we wait for the effects to wear off.”

you stared at him. “you’re kidding.”

“i’m not kidding.”

“ryland, that’s not a solution. t-that’s— what if it gets worse? what if it doesn’t wear off?”

“then we reassess,” he said, easy. “but right now, the safest option is distance.”

you laughed, sharp and disbelieving. “distance? on this ship? we share literally everything. systems, controls, workload—”

“yeah,” he said, gaining momentum, talking faster now. “we separate. different sections of the ship. minimal contact. we only communicate over comms when absolutely necessary. reduce exposure to… stimuli.”

“stimuli,” you repeated flatly.

he made a small, helpless gesture. “i’m trying to keep this clinical.”

you stared at him. really stared this time.

“ryland,” you said slowly, “we are on a single-crew mission with two people.”

“i’m aware.”

“we barely manage everything together on a good day.”

“we’ll adjust.”

“adjust?” you let out a short, disbelieving breath, shaking your head. “we’re already compromised. you said it yourself. attention issues, cognitive interference. you think splitting up is going to make that better?”

his jaw tightened. “it removes the trigger.”

“it removes the only person who can help when something goes wrong,” you shot back. “we don’t have backup. we don’t have a third crew member to pick up the slack. if something breaks, and something will break, we need both of us functional.”

“we are functional,” he insisted, but it came out strained, like he didn’t fully believe it.

you took a step closer without thinking.

his entire body reacted.

it was subtle. so subtle you almost missed it. but it was there: the way his shoulders went rigid, the way his breath hitched just slightly, the way his hands curled like he was holding himself in place.

that alone made your point for you.

you gestured between the two of you. “this is not functional.”

he didn’t answer.

you softened your voice, just a little. “we don’t know how long this is going to last.”

“it could wear off in a few hours,” he said, but it sounded more like hope than certainty.

“or it could be days,” you said quietly.

he didn’t argue.

“or weeks,” you added, pushing it, because you needed him to really think about it, not just cling to the best-case scenario.

“it’s the only plan that doesn’t make things worse. it’s better than the alternative.” he replied.

you stilled. “what alternative?”

he didn’t say anything.

which, unfortunately, was an answer.

you exhaled slowly, your chest tight. “okay. no. we’re not doing this vague shit. we need to actually say it.”

“we really don’t,” he said quickly.

“we do,” you insisted. “because if we don’t, we’re just going to keep circling around it and nothing gets solved.”

he dragged a hand down his face. “no.”

“ryland—”

“no,” he repeated, firmer this time. “we are not— no. that is not the solution.”

you stared at him. you've never heard his voice went that rough. that low. “it’s the only solution that makes sense.”

“it’s not a solution,” he shot back. “it’s—” he stopped, jaw tightening. “it’s not something we should even consider.”

“we both know what this is doing to us,” you pressed, voice low but steady now. “it’s not just going to fade if we sit in separate rooms pretending we’re fine. it’s building. it’s getting worse.”

“i said no,” he repeated, sharper this time.

“and what happens if it peaks while we’re in the middle of something critical?” you continued anyway. “a maneuver, a repair, a calculation— what then? we just hope we can think straight?”

“we will think straight,” he snapped. “we’re not animals.”

“no, we’re worse,” you shot back. “we’re aware of it and still can’t stop it.”

that hit. you saw it land.

he looked away first, jaw flexing, like he was trying to clamp down on something.

“we are not going to make a decision like that under the influence of alien—” he gestured helplessly, “—whatever this is.”

“we might not have a choice,” you said.

“we always have a choice.”

“do we?” you asked. “because right now it feels like we’re both in agony and pretending that distance is going to fix it.”

he flinched. barely, but enough.

“....you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he said, quieter now. steadier. like he was forcing the words into place. “okay? whatever this is, it doesn't make that decision for us. you don’t—” he stopped, swallowing. “you don’t owe me anything. not for survival, not for the mission. nothing.”

your expression softened for half a second, before hardening again.

“this isn’t about owing anyone anything,” you said. “this is about reality. about what’s actually happening. we can’t function like this, ryland.”

“we can,” he insisted. “we will.”

“you don’t believe that.”

he didn’t answer.

you stepped closer without thinking. his shoulders tensed immediately, like proximity itself was dangerous.

“look at me,” you said.

he did.

“you’re telling me to isolate,” you said, softer now, but more intense. “to stay away from you, to fight this out on our own, when we both know exactly what would make it stop.”

his breath hitched. just slightly, but he held his ground. “knowing something doesn’t mean we should do it.”

“why not?” you asked. “if it works, if it stabilizes us, if it lets us actually do our jobs…. why not?”

“because that’s not a choice,” he said, the words coming out sharper than he meant them to. “that’s a reaction. that’s the pollen making the decision for us.”

“or it’s us making the best decision with the situation we have,” you countered.

“no,” he said, shaking his head, stepping back now like he needed the space. “no, that’s not the same thing.”

you followed without realizing.

“then what is?” you demanded. “we wait it out and risk compromising the mission? we split up and hope nothing goes wrong? how is that better?”

“because at least it’s ours,” he snapped.

the words hung there. then he froze, like he hadn’t meant to say it that way.

you frowned slightly. “what?”

he dragged a hand down his face, exhaling hard. “if we— if we do this, it shouldn’t be because we’re backed into a corner. it shouldn’t be because some alien dust messed with our heads and left us with one option.”

“it’s still us,” you said. “it’s still our choice.”

“is it?” he asked quietly.

that got you. because there was something in his voice now. something deeper than just logic. something personal.

“i don’t want that,” he went on, more quietly now, but more intense for it. “i don’t want… something like that to happen because we had no other way out. because we were trying to survive it. i don’t want it to be something we look back on and think, ‘we didn’t really choose that.’”

you stared at him.

he looked away again, jaw tight.

“that’s not—” you started, then faltered. “that’s not what this is about.”

“it is for me,” he said.

there was a beat.

“we don’t have the luxury of waiting for perfect conditions,” you said, more gently now. “we have a mission. we need each other functioning.”

“i know,” he said. “i know that.”

“then stop pretending this is something we can just outlast.”

“i’m not pretending,” he said, voice rougher now. “i’m choosing the option where you don’t wake up later and regret it.”

pause.

you blinked at him. your voice came out quieter than you intended. “you think i’d regret it.”

“i think,” he said carefully, “that this isn’t exactly a clear-headed situation.”

you opened your mouth but no argument came out. because he wasn’t wrong.

“i’m just saying that it might fix the problem.”

“at what cost?”

a beat.

he stepped closer. just one step, but it closed the gap enough that the heat surged again, sharp and immediate, both of you feeling it.

his hands flexed at his sides like he was actively resisting the instinct to do something else with them.

“you think you won’t regret that?” he asked, voice lower now, rougher around the edges. “you think we won’t look back at this later and realize we only did it because we didn’t have a choice?”

you didn’t answer right away.

he shook his head, almost to himself. “that’s not…. that’s not how that should happen.”

there was something else in his voice then, something quieter, buried under all the logic and resistance. something that didn’t quite belong to the situation at hand.

“if we’re going to—” he stopped, jaw tightening, then tried again. “if something like that ever happens, it shouldn’t be because we’re trying to survive some alien…. whatever this is. it should be because we actually—”

you watched him cutting himself off. the way his shoulders were locked, the way his whole body looked like it was braced against something internal, something he was refusing to let slip.

“isolating wouldn't work,” you said quietly. “we can’t do this alone. not here. not now.”

“maybe not,” he admitted.

“then—”

“but i’m still not doing that,” he cut in.

you blinked. “ryland—”

“i’m not,” he repeated, firmer now. “we’ll figure something else out. we’ll manage it. we have to.”

“even if it makes things harder?”

“yeah,” he said. “even then.”

you searched his face. trying to understand. trying to find the line he wouldn’t cross.

“....you’re really that set on this,” you said.

“yeah,” he said quietly.

another pause.

“....fine,” you said at last, though it didn’t sound like agreement so much as reluctant acceptance. “we do it your way.”

he nodded once.

“we isolate,” you added. “but if it gets worse—”

“we reassess,” he said immediately.

neither of you moved.

just stood there, separated by a few steps and a whole lot of tension, both of you very aware of how fragile that distance felt.

like it could disappear in a second.

like he might cross it.

like you might let him.

his jaw tightened.

his shoulders went rigid again.

and for a split second, he looked like he might—

but then he turned away.

“i’ll take the lab first,” he said, voice a little rough. “you can have the cockpit.”

you swallowed. “okay.”

“we’ll… check in. over comms.”

“right.”

—

you weren't sure what time it was, but two things for certain: you were going crazy because sleep refused to come and the ceiling was mocking you.

you had been lying in bed, tangled in your sheets for what felt like hours but was probably twenty minutes, staring at the ceiling, flipping from one side to the other like a rotisserie chicken. the gold dust still simmered under your skin, turning every shift of fabric into slow torture. your tank top clung to your damp chest. your shorts felt too tight, too rough, too everything. you rolled onto your stomach, then flopped onto your back again, kicking the blanket off with a dramatic groan.

“this is stupid,” you muttered into the dark, dragging a pillow over your face like that might solve anything. “this is so fucking stupid. i am the pilot of the hail mary. i’ve navigated black holes in my head. i should not be this horny because of some stupid alien dust.”

another wave of heat rolled through you, settling low and insistent between your legs. you whimpered softly, pressing your thighs together, but that only made it worse.

your brain refused to calm, looping the same thoughts over and over again.

ryland’s voice.

ryland’s face.

ryland's arms.

ryland's hair.

just him in general. the way he’d looked at you before you separated. the way his voice had tightened. the way his shoulders had gone rigid like he was holding himself together by sheer force.

you groaned softly into your pillow, pressing your face into it like that might smother the thoughts.

with a frustrated sigh, you shoved the covers off and swung your legs over the side of the bed, the cool floor a brief relief against overheated skin. you sat there for a second, breathing, trying to steady yourself before started pacing.

“isolation,” you scoffed under your breath, pacing faster. “yeah, great plan, ryland. fantastic plan, ryland. terrific plan! it was never gonna fucking work.”

you sighed again before stopping to take a deep breath.

“okay,” you said to yourself. “it's fine. it's fine! you're okay. you're doing good. just— breathe. it’ll pass.”

you closed your eyes and tried to focus.

in.

out.

in—

“mhmmph—”

pause.

you blinked an eye open.

what—

“mhmphhh— fuckk—”

—the hell was that?

you tilted your head slightly, listening.

at first, nothing. just the low hum of the ship, steady and familiar. long enough you were starting to think that your brain was playing tricks on you.

but then—

“oh, please— please—”

it was soft and faint. slightly uneven. and came from the other side of the wall.

and the other side of the wall was ryland's room.

you froze. you heard it again. a low, muffled whimper drifted through the thin wall

unmistakenly ryland.

he was in the room next to yours.

awake.

and very clearly not handling this any better than you were.

he was trying so hard to stay quiet, really committing to the bit, but failing miserably. another whimper followed, shaky and desperate, quickly bitten off. the faint, rhythmic sound of skin on skin. a muttered curse. your name, whispered like he was cursing the universe for putting him in this position.

heat flooded your face so fast you probably matched the emergency lighting. you stood there, mouth slightly open, ears straining despite yourself.

is he—

no.

no way.

no fucking way.

another moan, softer this time, but unmistakably him. he was doing a terrible job at being stealthy. the wall might as well have been paper.

you paced faster, hands flapping uselessly at your sides like a malfunctioning robot.

dilemma time. big, stupid, pollen-fueled dilemma.

option #1: stay in your room. be responsible. respect the isolation plan he’d suggested earlier like the noble scientist he was. suffer in dignified silence until the dust wore off. maybe meditate. or count rivets in the ceiling. very professional.

option #2: march over there, bang on his door, and finally deal with whatever this is, together.

you stopped, pressing your ear against the cool wall, right where the sounds were loudest. another whimper from his side. your stomach flipped. your body voted very enthusiastically for option two.

“but he said isolate,” you argued with yourself in a harsh whisper. “he was all ‘we’re professionals, we can handle this.’ what if i go over there and he freaks out? what if it’s awkward? what if he opens the door with his dick in his hand and we both just scream?”

you frowned at the mental image. not very flattering thing to think about.

“fuck, no. i’m strong. i’m a pilot. i’ve done evasive maneuvers in asteroid fields. i can handle one night of alien-induced horniness without climbing my crewmate like a tree.”

you resumed pacing, arms crossed tight over your chest like that would somehow contain the fire. three steps. turn. three steps. the sounds from his room continued. another low moan, a bitten-off “shit” that sounded way too sexy for your sanity.

you stopped again, staring at your door like it was the airlock to certain doom.

your hand hovered near the door panel. you yanked it back like the button burned.

“no. professional boundaries. we have a mission. we have dignity. we—”

a particularly broken moan cut through the wall, followed by a muffled thump like he’d smacked his head against something.

you groaned, dragging both hands down your face. “okay, fuck it. i’m weak. i’m so fucking weak. if he doesn’t want this he can yell at me tomorrow when the pollen wears off.”

a beat.

“if…. it ever wears off.” you added.

before you could talk yourself out of it again, you marched to the door, heart hammering like a faulty thruster. you raised your fist and banged on his door, loud, impatient.

no turning back now.

inside, everything went dead silent. then frantic shuffling. something clattered to the floor. then the door finally slid open.

ryland stood there, flushed crimson, hair a disaster, breathing like he’d just run a marathon. his glasses were crooked. shorts wrinkled, barely even on, one hand still guiltily hovering near his waist. his eyes widened comically when he saw you.

you didn’t give him time to speak.

you grabbed the front of his shirt, pulled him forward, and kissed him hard.

he made a surprised noise that got immediately swallowed when you kissed him, the door sliding open the rest of the way as he stumbled back into the room.

for a second, he didn’t move. just froze, like his brain had short-circuited.

then his hands came up instinctively, one landing on your waist, the other tangling in your hair as he kissed you back with pent-up desperation. you stumbled forward into his room, mouths still locked, and kicked the door shut behind you with your heel.

the kiss was messy at first. noses bumping, tongues fighting. but neither of you cared. you poured every ounce of frustration and heat into it. his back hit the wall and he used the leverage to pull you closer, hips pressing against yours so you could feel exactly how affected he still was.

after a long, dizzying minute you forced yourself to pull back just enough to breathe.

“wait, wait,” you said, out of air. “you were the one who wanted to isolate. if you want me to stop…. say it. we can pretend this never happened—”

“no— no, no, no, no. don’t you dare,” he said immediately.

you blinked. “what?”

“don’t say we can stop and then actually mean it,” he said, like that was a personal attack. “that’s— no. absolutely not.”

you huffed a breath that might’ve been a laugh. “you were literally the one arguing against this.”

“i know,” he said. “i was wrong. past me was— misguided. naive. deeply out of touch with current events.”

“current events,” you repeated.

“yes,” he said, nodding once, very serious about this. “new data has come to light.”

“and that data is?”

“i need you.”

a beat.

“please.” he stared at you, eyes dark and glassy, lips swollen. his hands flexed on your hips like he was scared you’d vanish. for a heartbeat the only sound was your ragged breathing and the low hum of the ship.

“i tried— i really fucking tried to be good. but this dust is evil and you were just right next door and i’ve been losing my mind for hours. please.”

you couldn't help but chuckled. “yeah, okay. the feeling's mutual.”

“yeah?” he laughed too.

“yeah.”

“can i kiss you again then?”

you smiled. “thought you'd never asked.”

this time it was him who surged forward, kissing you slower this time, deeper, letting the burn build deliberately. his glasses fogged up immediately, the lenses clouding over from the combined heat of your breaths and the pollen still burning through both of you. he didn’t take them off. didn’t even reach for them. just kept kissing you through the haze, like the fog made it somehow hotter. your fingers traced his jaw, his neck, the rapid flutter of his pulse. he shivered under your touch.

you walked him backward toward the bunk without breaking the kiss. when his knees hit the edge he sat down heavily, pulling you with him so you straddled his lap. the new position pressed you right against the hard line of him, making you both gasp into each other’s mouths.

slowly, reverently, you started undressing each other. your hands slid under his shirt, palms mapping the warm, flushed skin of his chest. he lifted his arms so you could tug it off. you tossed it somewhere behind you, leaving him in only his fogging glasses. he returned the favor, peeling your tank top up inch by inch, kissing every new strip of skin he revealed. your stomach, the underside of your breast, your collarbone, until the fabric was gone.

his fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts. you rose up on your knees so he could slide them down your thighs along with your underwear. you kicked them away. then you focused on his shorts, tugging them down slowly, savoring the way his breath hitched when you freed him.

naked now, you settled back onto his lap, skin to skin. the contact was electric. you took your time, rocking gently against him without taking him inside yet, just feeling the slide and heat while you kissed him lazily, tongues tangling in slow, filthy strokes.

you reached between your bodies, wrapping your hand around him. he groaned loud, head tipping back, the sound vibrating through his chest. “fuck— your hand feels so good,” he breathed, hips twitching up into your grip. “don’t tease me, baby— been dying for this.”

“you sure about this?” you murmured against his lips between kisses, giving him one last out even as your hips rolled in a slow, teasing circle.

“never been more sure of anything in my life,” he breathed, hands gripping your thighs.

you laughed softly into his mouth, the sound turning into a moan when he shifted his hips just right. one of his hands slid between your bodies, fingers exploring with gentle, curious touches until you were trembling.

only then did you reach down, wrap your hand around him, and guide him to your entrance. you sank down inch by torturous inch, both of you moaning at the slow, perfect stretch. when you were fully seated you stayed there for a long moment, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other in while your bodies adjusted.

then you started to move.

slow rolls of your hips at first, savoring every drag and press. ryland’s head tipped back, exposing the long line of his throat. you leaned in to kiss along his jaw, his neck, sucking lightly at his pulse point while you rode him with deliberate, unhurried patience. his hands roamed your back, your sides, your breasts, learning every curve like it was new data he needed to memorize.

gradually the rhythm built. your movements grew deeper, harder. the bunk creaked steadily. soft gasps and moans filled the small room. his fingers found your clit, rubbing tight circles that made your rhythm falter and your breath catch.

“ryland— fuck, just like that—”

“you feel so good,” he panted, voice breaking on the words. “oh, baby— don’t stop, please—”

it hit you like a solar flare. you cried out his name loud, clenching around him hard, hips stuttering through the waves. he followed right after, burying himself deep with a broken, guttural moan.

“yes— fuck— coming— inside you— god, you’re perfect— take it all—”

you collapsed against his chest, both of you trembling, hearts hammering in sync. his arms wrapped around you tight, holding you close while the aftershocks rolled through, glasses still fogged and slightly askew on his nose.

for a long moment, neither of you said anything.

which, considering everything that had just happened, felt both appropriate and deeply suspicious.

you were half sprawled across him, one leg tangled with his, your arm draped somewhere over his chest like you’d both simply…. collapsed and decided to stay that way. the room was quiet except for your breathing, slowly evening out, though not nearly fast enough to feel normal.

ryland was staring at the ceiling.

very intently.

like it had just revealed the meaning of life and he was still processing it.

“....so,” you said eventually.

“so,” he echoed.

another pause.

you shifted slightly, propping your chin on his chest so you could look at him. “on a scale from one to ‘we should never speak of this again,’ where are you at?”

he didn’t look at you.

“....i’m considering faking amnesia.”

you snorted. “wow. rude.”

“i’m kidding,” he said quickly, then paused. “....mostly.”

“mostly,” you repeated.

“okay, no, that sounded worse than i meant it,” he said, finally turning his head toward you, eyes wide like he was trying to fix it in real time. “i don’t regret it. i do not regret it. i just—” he gestured vaguely with one hand, which was difficult considering you were partially pinning him down, “—need a second to emotionally catch up with my own life choices.”

you raised an eyebrow. “your life choices led you to space.”

“for the record, i did not consent to that.”

fair, but you ignored him. “and then to alien pollen.”

“unfortunately, yes.”

“and then to me.”

he hesitated.

“....that part i’m less willing to categorize as a mistake.”

you stared at him for a second.

then narrowed your eyes. “that was almost smooth.”

“thank you,” he said. “i panicked halfway through it.”

“i could tell.”

another stretch of quiet settled in, but it was…. different now. looser. like the tension that had been buzzing under your skin all day had finally burned itself out, leaving something softer in its place.

“....for the record,” you added after a moment, “your ‘being quiet’ plan earlier? terrible.”

he made a strangled noise. “oh my god.”

“like, impressively bad,” you continued. “i heard everything.”

“you did not hear everything.”

“ryland.”

he covered his face with both hands, cheeks heated up. “i would like to be ejected into space now.”

“denied,” you said immediately. “we need you for the mission.”

“please, just kill me already.”

“also,” you added, very seriously, “for future reference, the wall is not soundproof.”

“i have gathered that,” he said into his hands.

“just making sure.”

he peeked at you through his fingers. “....are you going to bring this up again later?”

“oh, constantly.”

“i walked into that one.”

“you really did.”

another quiet moment passed.

you could feel his breathing steady under you now, less uneven, less strained.

“....hey,” he said after a while.

“yeah?”

there was a small pause before he spoke again, like he was choosing his words more carefully this time. “are you okay?”

it caught you off guard.

not the question itself, but the way he asked it. steady. grounded, like he needed the answer to mean something.

you blinked, then nodded. “yeah,” you said, softer. “i am.”

he turned his head then, just enough to look at you properly, like he needed the visual confirmation to go with it.

“....okay,” he said finally, the word carrying more weight than it should have. “i'm glad.”

you nudged him lightly with your shoulder, a small, grounding kind of contact. “you?”

he let out a breath that sounded like it had been stuck somewhere in his chest for a while. “yeah. i think so. which is honestly surprising, given…. everything.”

“everything,” you echoed.

“yeah,” he repeated.

another quiet stretch settled over you, but it wasn’t awkward. not really. just…. calm, in a slightly surreal, post-chaos kind of way.

eventually, the exhaustion caught up with you. real, actual exhaustion this time. not the restless, jittery kind from before.

you shifted closer without thinking, your head settling more comfortably against him.

he stilled for half a second then relaxed. his arm tightening just slightly around you.

“also,” he added, voice softer now, almost drowsy, “for the record…. i don’t regret it.”

your chest tightened. you didn’t lift your head, didn’t look at him. just let the words settle somewhere quiet inside you.

“…me neither,” you murmured.

that was the last coherent thing either of you said.

It's been five-some minutes of licks and kisses, and not once has he felt the urgency to slip his ever-growing, aching chub on between your lips. He was enjoying this art enough as is. 

You extend your tongue out ever so slightly to support the weight of his tip, crown of his cock resting along the flat of your tongue in the most lewdest of ways that you can't help but peer up — the act fleeting and almost teasing. But really you were seeking validation, inquiring approval that it looks as hot as what you think it to be. 

His expression contorts in controlled bliss over you, brows pinching in the centre, bottom lip sucked just a nibble under the sort of clamping of his teeth. He gives you a small, little nod — like it was wordlessly verbalise his liking. You tap the tip of him against your tongue a couple times before you guide him out your mouth and to the outside of it.

You hold him to your lips, the slight point of his head nestled betwixt your lips as you emit a bead of spit on the top. It sits between the slit for a moment and spills down the left side of his cock. And as it tipples down the length of him, you do it again — laying another bead of saliva on his tip until it trickles down the underside this time.

There's more this time around, spit bubbly and almost foamy as it runs down the length of him and to your hands still around the base of his dick. You do it again and again and again, thick beads of saliva, all more frothy than the one before until all that coats him is a thin sheen of your spit. 

His head falls back as he chokes out a breath, the sight and anticipatory touch seemingly a lot to take. His breathing grows ragged and it's then he drops the weight of his head forward to get a better look at you. Keen to focus on the vulgar sight below. 

You retract your head back just a little bit so as to better display the thin strings of spit attaching you to his cock. There's more than one, there's many. None of them connected from the same place, all of them varying in thickness. 

Your gaze flickers from the temptation just a few inches shy of your face, and up to Dex; his expression sort of pained as he watches it, you. It's a sight, truly. One he hopes he'll never forget. His chest heaves harder now than to how it did, breaths growing deeper and strained — that sense of control he's eager to obtain slowly slipping away.

He swallows thickly and pushes his almost greying hair back a moment before his hand drops to the side of your head, his hold sort of desperate as he holds your face within his palm. His thumb brushes over your cheek and it's then he gives you another nod, this time not out of encouragement, rather direction. 

Your gaze falls from the ardent eyes of your lover and back down to his dick in your hands, wet reddened tip eager in your hold. You lean in to kiss him, lips pursed around his head as you sear in another kiss that you've long lost track of. And as you pull him away from your mouth, you emit more of your saliva onto him and the thick bubble-like bead of spit trickles with the veins of his twitching cock. 

"Fuck," he utters, the word sounding like a choke as it falls from his mouth.

Dex drops his hand from his hip to the top of your head and he rests it there, dual hold encapsulating you dearly. He's careful with you, deliberately so. Fingers skirting the shell of your ear with one hand, the other nestled atop your head; grazing your scalp as you continue to drool and slobber all over the end of his cock. 

Spit drips from your lips, from your chin, from his cock, from his balls, all of it leaking obscenely so. And it's the messiest he'd ever allow.

⎯ ☆ ⎯

After his shower, Simon slipped on the clothes provided for him. The shirt was a little tight, yet the cargo pants fit perfectly, a strap around the hips allowing him to tighten it. He left his harness and hair band on the floor, but clipped the holster back on, refusing to leave it off his person. He then slipped into his boots, tying up the laces while long, wavy strands of wet hair kept falling into his eyes—he'd have to ask if they had a hair tie he could use.

Once he was finished dressing he stood in the middle of the room he'd woken up in, hesitating to leave and confront whatever reality was on the other side. It was difficult to trust anyone nowadays, let alone someone who was previously apart of the C.O.I., that of which held him captive for years until sending him off to his demise. There was no telling what these people might do, regardless of what they said.

Not to mention they had to have some connection to one of the C.O.I.'s stations in order to obtain resources and create a small station of their own. In that case, it wouldn't make sense for them to know about this place's existence – along with the occupants of Eden prisoners – and not rat them out to the militia to have them removed.

None of this was making sense in his mind, more questions popping up the longer he dwelled on it, all without reasonable answers. For now, he'd keep his guard up until he could figure out the intentions of this small group of people—namely what they planned to do with himself and if the statement they made about other prisoners of Eden being here was true. He'd recognize them if so.

To delay the inevitable, he focused on the new set of bandages left behind on the bed. The skin of his arms were red and raw, some blisters lined along the scrapes and gashes. He took his time wrapping them back up, wincing at the sharp sting that'd occur anytime he was a little too harsh.

Unfortunately, wrapping up his arms could only take up so much time, to where he soon found himself at the same predicament. With steps as slow as molasses, he forced himself to head towards the door, figuring it'd do him no good to stand there and let his mind spiral. Might as well get this over with if his assumptions were correct.

As soon as he opened the door, he almost recoiled at the sight of Rora. They looked equally as surprised, their head turned as they were walking by. Briefly his gaze flickered to their hand behind them, which was covered in a bulky glove and holding onto a large, metal barrel.

"Oh good, you're done!" The shock quickly dissipated, replaced by relief as they held out their free hand towards him. Inside their open palm was a hair tie. "I was actually going to drop by and give you this before I head out to restock our food supply. Figured you'd need it."

Simon blinked at the gesture, taken aback by the fact they'd even took such a small detail into consideration. He awkwardly took the tie from their hand, before addressing a part of their sentence that both puzzled him and confirmed a thought of his from minutes prior. "How do you guys have food here?"

"We get some occasional shipments from a secret insider in one of the nearby C.O.I. stations." They answered, noticing his rising suspicion and addressing it with ease. "They're not on board with the council's methods, either. So they send us resources and stay silent for the sake of our safety and continued research."

Simon huffed, not believing that for even a second. "Seems like an unfair trade. Who's to say they won't tell?" His deep voice was harsh and distrustful, his hands lazily tying a section of his hair into a small bun while he spoke, leaving the rest to brush over the top of his shoulders.

Once again, they were unfazed by his spike in aggression, answering in a calm and collected manner. "It's not a trade, it's a mutual agreement against a governing force that uses its power in cruel and unjust ways. Unlike the C.O.I., we want to see humanity thrive once again, if possible. They only want control over what's left."

Silence settled over them, where his eyes roved over every detail of their face, searching for any signs of dishonesty. There was none, yet he couldn't will himself to buy into it, to let himself relax into a false sense of security. A place like this felt too good to be true, there had to be some kind of catch.

As the quiet between them dragged on, with those brown irises burning a hole into them, they decided to break it with a grin. "Anyway! As I said before, I'm going to restock our meat supply. Would you like to join me?" They added the last part without hesitation, a polite offer used as an invitation to prove their trustworthiness.

Simon's mouth pursed into a thin line, dark eyebrows creasing together. "Meat? Like, the synthetic stuff?" He questioned cluelessly, lost as to what they were implying.

With no animals left, that's the only option that was possible. The fish in these oceans weren't able to be consumed, or so he had been told. Yet something about how their grin widened with enthusiasm suggested that assumption of his was going to be proved incorrect soon.

"Not at all. Here, just come with me." Was all they said before starting to walk again, the empty barrel dragging noisely behind them while they did so.

After a second of contemplation, Simon found himself trailing behind them, curiosity winning over skepticism. He rushed a bit to catch up with them, falling into a slower pace so he'd be at a reasonable distance.

When they stepped outside of the station, he took notice of how the air thinned out in comparison to inside. He had been too desperate to get out of that death trap, then too exhausted to care about his surroundings, that he hadn't even taken notice of the shift in oxygen levels. It was breathable, but it wouldn't have been enough to keep his body functioning for long had he stayed outside.

With that small revelation, he unknowingly found his body relaxing while he trailed after them. They had saved him, so he supposed it wouldn't make sense for them to try to kill him—he still had his doubts about being free, though. Those qualms would only be eased once he saw the Eden prisoners they spoke about who were also sent down.

For now, he tried not to focus too hard on it, instead observing where they had walked to. It was the same spot where he had crawled out of his submarine, except it was no longer there. Along with that, he noticed something far more surprising—there was a large pile of fish waiting on the moon rock.

Rora was already strolling up to it, placing the barrel close. "She collects us a pile of fish whenever we're running low. Way better than anything synthetic." They spoke, as if already sensing the question that was about to leave his tongue.

Simon blinked, puzzlement scrunching up his scruffy facial features as he walked closer. "You can actually eat these? I thought anything from the blood oceans was deemed inedible." He spoke slowly, disbelief heavy in his tone.

The blood oceans on these moons had barely been explored—it was difficult to do so when a thick, viscous substance blocked everything from view. However, that didn't mean other methods weren't attempted out of desperation to learn if resources could be taken from it. As far as he had heard, fish had been acquired before, but ended up making the person who ate it violently ill.

That was unsurprising, especially now that he was getting a glimpse at how they looked, his face visibly disturbed at their grotesque appearance. It was similar to how he'd seen fish in books, coming from the ocean of the Earth, except mutated in a way that was grossly organ like.

Veins grew from sections of the body, wiggling and searching for something to attach to. The fishes bodies varied—some pale but otherwise normal, others more red with bulbous deformities, while a few looked congealed, able to see the organs through the dark red substance. All of them had haunting eyes and fins that looked similar to Maris' – jagged and ripped – but he supposed a blood ocean wouldn't exactly have normal creatures in it.

A food source was needed during these times, yet staring at these fish for too long was making Simon's stomach churn. Frankly, he couldn't imagine eating that—he'd much rather have the shitty MREs that were provided in his cell.

A laugh came from Rora, who had taken a glance at his disgusted expression. They were unfazed, used to the sight of them by now as they began to pick them up in their gloved hands, dropping them into the barrel one-by-one.

"We thought that at first. Turns out so long as you clean and dry them thoroughly enough to where you don't consume any of the blood, you'll be fine." They explained with enthusiasm, clearly proud of their progress. "There's some mutated parts that need to be chopped off, and it's a tedious preparation process, but it's perfectly safe. We've been eating them for the few years we've been here now."

Simon listened to every word with interest, part of him unable to believe any of it. They were right, it did sound like a tedious process, but it was a miracle all the same—a reliable food source that didn't run out. That's what the C.O.I. had been attempting to achieve this entire time, though it was evident their own impatience got the better of them, leading to – what would've been – wasted lives for unnecessary risks.

He scoffed to himself, bitterness gnawing at him at the continued revelations that was the C.O.I.'s supposedly 'righteous' sacrifices meant to deceive their society. At this point, he wouldn't doubt that they were doing it for only that reason, rather than wanting to find progress. It was a false hope meant to keep their people quiet and satisfied with their lives until their time ran out.

Knowing his anger would bubble to the surface if he kept pondering on it, he shifted his focus to a question from before. "What happened to the submarine?" He asked, eyeing the spot where he recalled it being pulled up onto the rocks.

Rora hummed, remaining focused on their task while speaking. "The creature tears it up for us to use as scraps, it's what helped us build this place. And of course there's the black box we keep, to add onto the data we've collected thus far."

At that last part, he let out an amused puff of air. "Doubt there's any useful shit in there, not compared to what you guys have already found out." He grumbled, his gaze mindlessly searching the vast amount of red ahead of them. "What about the, uh, y'know... deadly radiation camera?"

They laughed quietly at how he worded it, shaking off a fish that's veins were wrapping around their rubber glove. "She disposes of those now. We have enough of them to fight off the mutations on the rare chance it occurs."

Simon's brows furrowed together, gaze snapping towards Rora with alarm and confusion. "Mutations? What does that—"

He didn't get a chance to finish that sentence before something erupted from the ocean of blood before them. The thick liquid splashed ahead of them, a few globs of it landing at their feet and causing him to recoil on instinct. Rora had no outward reaction, only sending him a humored smile before directing their attention to the last few fishes they needed to scoop up.

Simon on the other hand, was now staring at the large figure that emerged from the sea of crimson, the liquid sliding down every inch of her form as she wiggled her way onto the rock—Maris.

There was a fish in her mouth, this one notably a bit larger than the rest. With a jerk of her head she tossed it in Rora's direction, who eagerly uttered their thanks while gathering it up with the others. When the dark-haired man turned back to her, he was startled to see dark voids already staring back at him.

Immediately her eyes squinted, a long, delighted trill leaving her as she shook her head in an excited manner, her finned ears fluttering on each side of her head. Her tail swished in the ocean behind her, moving in a way that was similar to a dog's tail wagging when they were excited.

"I think she's happy to see you're okay." Rora spoke up, tone a mixture of amusement and fondness. "She looked worried sick when we arrived and kept making distressed noises. Hell, she even tried to follow us to the station. Never done that before." Their comment held a sliver of surprise to it, along with something else he couldn't recognize.

He paid it little mind, his brown eyes softening at the edges. Right when he thought nothing else could surprise him, this creature never ceased to amaze him. She had to be some kind of gift, an apology for the erasure of the entire universe—the only hope left for humanity to survive.

His feet moved on their own, the closer he got the more his neck had to crane upwards to look at her. Not for long, for once he was close enough she instinctively leaned her body down, leaving them eye level with each other. A gentle coo left her, before she raised a clawed hand towards him.

He flinched a bit, a spike of fear piercing his heart for the briefest of moments. Then he blinked, releasing a long, uneven breath when he noticed something dangling from her wrist, a shine to it underneath the blood than dripped off the surface. It didn't take him long to realize what it was—his bracelet, the one he had managed to keep all this time, hidden away from the C.O.I.

With his current physical state and foggy mind, he hadn't noticed he'd lost it after stumbling out of the wreckage of the vessel. Now here it was, wrapped around her wrist and offered to him, as if she somehow knew the sentimental value it held for him. Maybe it was because she saw it with him before—she seemed very intelligent, after all.

While observing that, he also noticed something else, his eyes squinting a bit. The vibrant scales on her arms were flaking off in some areas, the pale skin underneath a irritated and raw red, similar to his own arms. The same went for her shoulders, chest and face, and the guilt hit him hard.

The radiation affected her, too.

God, he was such a fucking idiot. He didn't even think about the fact he'd been using that on her the whole time, trying to see where she was out of his own curiosity. Part of him naively assumed it wouldn't affect a creature like herself, like she was untouchable from any harm.

He should've known better, damnit.

His fingers picked at his own bandages absent-mindedly, a shameful sigh escaping him the longer he stared. "You keep it. I think it looks better on you than me, Maris." He was hoping that'd cheer her up, but was instead met with a puzzled head tilt—oh, that's right, he hadn't mentioned that yet. "Uhm, you didn't have a name so I came up with one for you... Is that okay? Or do you want something else, orrr, uh, I don't know..."

The words died on his tongue, his eyes squeezing shut when she leaned forward and gently bonked her forehead against his own. It was accompanied by a symphony of chirrups and swishing sounds, indicating her tail was moving back and forth. He couldn't help the surprised laugh that left him when she nudged his head again—definitely happy with it, then.

"I don't think I've seen her so friendly with someone before." Rora stated from behind, causing him to tilt his head to the side to look at them. "I mean, yeah she saved us all, but she seems particularly fond of you. Any idea why?" There was a grin on their lips, both teasing and intrigued.

All he could offer was a helpless shrug, releasing a breath of a laugh when she began to nuzzle her cheek against his own after he moved his head. It was like a cat affectionately rubbing against him, especially where the stubble lined along his jaw. "Yeah, I'm just as clueless as you."

They shook their head, grabbing ahold of the edge of the barrel now piled high with mutated fish. "Well, it'll be a minute before breakfast is prepared. Feel free to keep her company until then." They said playfully, before slowly starting to haul the heavy container away, grunting from the weight of it.

He watched them leave for a second, before turning back to the sea creature in front of him, meeting her wide stare. She gave a short chirp, raising her hand to lightly swing the bracelet around. Honestly, he couldn't tell if she was thanking him for it or urging him to take it back—he chose to believe the prior.

The thought made him sigh, unable to fully comprehend what she was trying to get across most times. "I don't understand you." He mumbled, more so to himself than the tall being in front of him. "Why would you help me? Any of us?"

To that she simply titled her head, a soft hum vibrating throughout her chest. What that was supposed to mean, he didn't know, and that was beginning to frustrate him. How was he supposed to communicate with a creature that understood his language perfectly, yet couldn't speak it?

"Right, you can't talk but you can understand me. That makes no fucking sense, either." He huffed, his sour tone not directed at her, but rather the situation. Another noise left her, quieter this time, causing his growing anger to suddenly deflate with a deep breath. "Sorry, didn't mean it that way, just... It's frustrating, is all."

A short, soft tune left her, the sound like a dizzying music to his ears that washed away the thoughts currently plaguing his mind. The sensation was odd, every muscle in his body suddenly relaxing while the aches vanished in an instant. As quick as it came it left, halting the minute her voice did.

The dark-haired man blinked away the sudden blurriness from his eyes, his brows creasing together once he noticed her expression. It was terrifying the way every ounce of serenity and eagerness melted away from her scaled complexion, a blank slate replacing it. Then her eyes narrowed, her lips curling and nose sniffing at the air near him.

He'd be lying if he said his heart wasn't ready to pound out of his chest, apprehension creeping in as she began to inspect him. "What? Is, uh, is something wrong? Why're you doing that?" He stumbled over his words nervously, half-tempted to back away and scurry after Rora at this point.

There was no verbal response as she continued to take in his scent, lowering her head until it was above his arm. Immediately her mouth formed into a snarl, rows of horrifyingly sharp teeth glinting in front of him while she began to release a string of hisses.

His breaths came out in uneven pants now, terror paralyzing him on the spot with the reminder of just how intimidating this creature could be. Yet she wasn't hurting him, wasn't lunging forward to rip his arm off like he expected her to, only growling at his bandaged arm like it had personally offended her.

After a minute of this, confusion began to overtake whatever traces of fear was left. If she wasn't attacking him, then surely it had to be something else? But all that was under the bandages were wounds. Could she sense that one of them was worse... or something like that? Fuck, he didn't know.

Wanting to appease her so he could stop his heart from beating out of his chest, he reached towards the bandages to begin unwrapping them. He winced as it peeled off from his skin, continuing until it was all the way undone and her wide, pitch-black eyes were glaring at the uncovered result.

At first he remained clueless on what the issue was, until he fully rotated it around and inspected his arm. Not long after he froze, time seeming to stand still as she released another unpleasant noise.

What the fuck.

Were those... scales?

A/N: