AureolinB

The morning the world started ending, the sun didn’t look like a dying star. It just looked muted, a pale imitation of the gold that used to spill across your kitchen table.

You had been tracing the grain of the dark wood, a half-empty mug of coffee cooling between your hands, when Ryland called you. He didn’t look like a junior high school teacher who had just spent the day managing chaotic classrooms. He looked hollowed out. There was a sharp, clinical edge to his posture that usually only appeared when he was deep into a research paper he claimed not to care about anymore.

He didn't say anything at first. He just, looked at you, really looked. As if you were about to get ripped away from him at any given moment.

"They asked me," he whispered, his voice muffled hugging your sweater, the one you gifted him.

You didn't need him to elaborate. The Project Hail Mary initiative had been consuming the global news cycle, a desperate, multi-national Hail Mary pass to stop the Astrophage from choking the sun to death. They were looking for scientists, for experts, for anyone with the specific genetic markers to survive the coma. Ryland had been drafted into the research team months ago, but this was different. This was the final step. The one-way ticket.

"They want you to go," you murmured.

"Eva Stratt thinks I’m the only one who can reliably handle the cell cultures in transit," he said, a bitter, terrified laugh hitching in his throat. He pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes, usually so bright and animated when he talked about science, were wide and swimming with a raw, unadulterated fear. "It’s a suicide mission. There’s no fuel for a return trip, sunshine. If I say yes... I’m dying out there. Light-years away from you."

The weight of the universe felt like it was pressing down on the roof of your small house, threatening to collapse the rafters. Your chest ached with a physical, tearing agony. You wanted to beg him to stay. You wanted to tell him to hide, to let someone else save the world, to give you whatever years the dying sun had left so you could spend them in each other's arms.

But you looked at the ring on your finger—a simple, elegant band that matched the one he wore on a chain around his neck because he always forgot to take it off before labs. You looked at the man who explained the cosmos to teenagers with the reverence of a poet.

"I love you," you said, your voice remarkably steady despite the fracturing of your heart. "And because I love you, I am not going to tie you to a sinking ship. If you stay here, we watch the world go dark together. If you go... you give everybody a chance. Including me."

"I don't want to leave you," he choked out, pressing his forehead against a table. "Tell me what to do. Just tell me to stay, and I'll stay. I swear to God, I will."

You shook your head slowly. "No. I won't make this choice for you, Ryland. But whatever you decide... I support you. I am with you. Always."

That night, he held your photo as if he could merge his soul into yours, memorizing the cadence of your breathing, the exact scent of your skin, the way your fingers curled into his shirt. And when the black government SUVs pulled up to your shared house, three days later, saying "We honor your fiancee, Ryland Grace for his honorable sacrifice." you didn’t cry until the tail lights disappeared down the gravel driveway.

You chose to stay behind. There was no place for you on a spaceship meant for three scientists and a mountain of life-support equipment. You would stay on Earth, waiting under a dimming sky, holding onto a remnant of hope that defied all mathematical probability.

~

Space was black, and grey, and terrifyingly silent.

When Ryland Grace woke up from the forced coma, his brain was a clean slate wiped by amnesia. He knew how to speak, he knew the laws of physics, and he knew how to test the chemical composition of the sludge in his feeding tubes. But he didn't know his name. He didn't know why he was in a metal cylinder hurtling through the void.

And he didn't know why his chest felt like a phantom limb was being torn from it.

It took weeks for the memories to trickle back, arriving in agonizing, disjointed fragments. He remembered Eva Stratt. He remembered the Astrophage. He remembered the absolute terror of being forced onto the ship. He remembered his crewmates—and the suffocating grief of realizing they hadn't survived the journey. He was alone.

Or so he thought.

It happened while he was cleaning out one of the tertiary storage lockers in the dormitory area. A small, unassuming metal canister had slipped from a shelf, clattering against the deck plates. When Ryland picked it up, the lid popped open. Inside wasn't a piece of scientific equipment or a spare component for the air scrubbers.

It was a photograph.

Ryland sat down heavily on the floor, the cold metal of the ship vibrating through his jumpsuit. He stared at the glossy paper. It was a picture taken in a backyard. The sun was bright—blindingly, beautifully bright, the way it used to be. A person was laughing, their head tilted back, their eyes crinkling with pure, unbridled joy. They were holding a plate of half-burnt barbecue, and their other hand was reached out toward the camera, as if trying to swat away the person taking the photo.

On their left ring finger, a simple band caught the sunlight.

Ryland’s breath hitched. A sudden, violent surge of emotion crashed over him like a tidal wave, knocking the air straight out of his lungs. A name echoed in the cavernous, empty spaces of his mind.

[Name]. you.

"[Name]," he whispered aloud, the syllables foreign and yet intimately familiar on his tongue.

The amnesia had stripped away the specific dates, the anniversaries, the exact sound of your voice, but it hadn't touched the feeling. Seeing your face was like a blind man suddenly regaining his sight. The phantom ache in his chest instantly materialized into a profound, devastating longing. He remembered the kitchen table. He remembered the pale sun. He remembered the words you had told him, preserved in the amber of his subconscious.

“Whatever you decide… I support you. I am with you. Always.”

He hadn't been a brave man who volunteered to save humanity. He remembered that now, too. He had been a coward who had to be dragged kicking and screaming onto the Hail Mary. But you... you had given him your blessing anyway. You had loved him enough to let him go into the dark.

Ryland pressed the photograph against his chest, right over his racing heart, and let out a broken, sobbing laugh. "I'm not alone," he whispered to the empty room. "I have to finish this. I have to save the sun. I have to go home to you."

~

The mission changed the moment Ryland met Rocky.

An alien being made of stone and heavy metals, living in a hot, high-pressure environment, shouldn't have been able to coexist with a fragile human from Earth. But necessity and a shared existential dread create strange bedfellows. Over the months of grueling scientific labor, of building a translation dictionary word by melodic, musical word, the Eridian and the human became more than allies. They became brothers.

Rocky was a creature of pure logic, an engineering genius who could forge complex machinery with his bare claws. But he also understood the concept of family.

One evening, while they were docked together in the Tau Ceti system, analyzing the Taumoeba cultures that would hopefully cure their respective home stars, Rocky noticed Ryland staring at the small photograph taped neatly next to the primary monitor of the Hail Mary science lab.

Rocky tapped his claws against the dividing glass, a series of melodic, clicking chimes vibrating through the speaker. “Who is the small-photo-person, Question?”

Ryland smiled, a soft, melancholy expression that always appeared when he looked at the picture. "That’s [name], Rocky. My... my fiancée. The person I am going to marry."

Rocky tilted his carapace, his echolocation tracking Ryland's movements. “Fiancée. Pre-mate? Partner of life?”

"Yes," Ryland said, his voice thick with emotion. "My partner of life. I left them behind on Earth to come here. I thought I would never see them again. The ship... it was only supposed to be a one-way trip."

Rocky made a low, mournful rumbling sound, a vibration that Ryland had come to understand as Eridian comfort. “Earth sun is dying. You leave partner to save partner. Good. Very good. But now, ship has fuel. Taumoeba is found. You go back to partner now?”

Ryland looked at the monitors. The Hail Mary had indeed been modified. Thanks to Rocky's incredible engineering skills and the abundance of localized resources, they had managed to cultivate enough fuel. The beetles—the automated probes meant to carry the data back to Earth while Ryland died in space—were no longer his only option. He could actually fly the ship back.

But it wasn't that simple.

"The Taumoeba are leaking, Rocky," Ryland said softly, staring at the latest telemetry data from Rocky's ship, the Blip-A. The Eridian ship's fuel tanks were being consumed by a mutated strain of the organism. Rocky was trapped. If Ryland left for Earth now, he would live, and Earth would be saved. But Rocky would die here, alone in the dark, and Eridian civilization would perish.

If Ryland stayed to save Rocky, he would have to use his own ship's fuel to transport Rocky back to Erid, abandoning his own chance to return home. He would be stranded on a foreign world, thousands of light-years away from the person he loved.

Ryland looked from the telemetry screen to the photograph of your laughing face.

“I support whatever you decide.”

Your voice echoed in his mind, clear as a bell across the vacuum of space. You hadn't asked him to be a hero; you had asked him to be true to himself. And Ryland knew, with absolute certainty, that if he abandoned his friend to save his own skin, he wouldn't be the man you loved anymore.

"I have to help him," Ryland whispered to the photograph. "I'm sorry, sunshine. I have to save him first."

With a heavy heart but a clear conscience, Ryland Grace turned his ship around. He sent the automated beetles hurtling toward Earth with the cure for the sun, and he set a course to rescue his alien friend. He gave up his ticket home.

~

Years blurred into a surreal tapestry of alien landscapes and sulfur-scented air. Ryland lived on Erid for over a decade. He ate their synthetic, vitamin-infused pastes, he lived in their specialized high-pressure domes, and he taught Eridian children the basics of human science, just as he had once taught the kids in junior high.

He grew older. Strands of grey invaded his hair, and fine lines etched themselves around his eyes. Rocky was his constant companion, a steadfast friend who did everything in his power to make the human feel at home.

But Erid was not home.

One day, while sitting in the observation dome looking out over the dark, starless sky of Erid, Rocky walked in. He didn't chime his usual cheerful greeting. Instead, he dropped a heavy, metallic cylinder onto the table.

“Grace,” Rocky sung, his pitch deadpan and serious. “Look at the sky-data from Earth system.”

Ryland frowned, hooking his laptop up to the cylinder. As the data decoded, his breath hitched. The automated astronomical readings from the Eridian space telescopes showed Sol—the Earth’s sun.

It wasn't dim anymore. The Astrophage infection had broken. The light output was back to one hundred percent efficiency. The beetles had made it. The world had been saved.

But that wasn't all.

"Eridian scientists figured out how to fix Hail Mary. Grace go home!" Rocky chimed, the musical notes sounding more like salvation to him.

Ryland stood up so fast his chair flipped over. He turned to Rocky, his chest heaving. "Rocky, I—"

“I know, I know!” Rocky interrupted, his chimes a joyful, chaotic symphony. "I go with you, Grace! I see this Earth. I see partner-of-life who makes my friend look at a tiny paper for fifteen years! Adrian come aswell! Amaze amaze amaze!”

Ryland laughed, a loud, sobbing sound, and threw his arms around the hard, rocky carapace of his best friend. "Thank you. Thank you, Rocky."

It took a few more months to build and prepare the reinforced Hail Mary, It was a marvel of dual-species engineering—half of it a pressurized, nitrogen-oxygen environment for Ryland, the other half a super-heated, ammonia-filled chamber for Rocky and Adrian, separated by a massive, reinforced viewport.

When the ship finally broke orbit from Erid, Ryland didn't look back. His eyes were fixed firmly on a tiny, distant blue speck on the navigation console.

The trip took nearly three years at relativistic speeds. For Ryland, it was a time of intense anticipation, a slow-burning agony of hope. He spent hours talking to both Rocky and Adrian through the glass, describing what grass felt like, how rain smelled, and what it was like to hold someone you loved. Rocky listened with rapt attention, his claws clicking in fascination.

As the ship finally decelerated into the Sol system, Ryland stood at the viewport of his quarters. The Earth grew larger and larger, a brilliant, breathtaking jewel of blue, white, and vibrant green. The brown, dying hue it had worn when he left was completely gone.

They had done it. They had saved it.

~

The landing of the Hail Mary was not a covert affair. The Earth military and scientific communities had been tracking the massive, alien-built vessel since it passed Jupiter. When Ryland broadcasted his identity and his intentions, the global response was a mixture of absolute shock and euphoric celebration. The legendary Ryland Grace, the savior of humanity who was assumed dead a decade ago, was returning. And he had brought friends.

They were cleared to land at a secure military facility in the desert of New Mexico, equipped with the specialized atmospheric containment units both Eridians required to survive on Earth.

The ship touched down with a heavy, pressurized hiss. Ryland stood in the airlock, his hands shaking so violently he could barely cycle the manual release. He was wearing a standard flight suit, the ring on the chain heavy against his collarbone.

Through the thick glass of the internal viewport, Rocky tapped a rhythm against the partition. “Go, Grace. Find the small-photo-person. We am safe in my box. We watch from the window.”

Ryland smiled, his eyes stinging. "I'll be right back, buddy."

The external airlock door groaned open, lowering a ramp onto the tarmac. The air of Earth hit Ryland like a physical blow. It was warm, thick with oxygen, and smelling intensely of dry dirt, ozone, and distant sagebrush. It was a beautiful, overwhelming sensory overload.

A crowd of officials, scientists, and military personnel stood a respectful distance away, their faces a sea of wide eyes and dropped jaws. But Ryland didn't look at them. His gaze swept wildly across the tarmac, searching, desperately searching.

And then, he saw you.

You were standing just outside the security perimeter, held back by a line of guards who didn't quite know what to do with you. You looked different. Fifteen years had woven silver strands into your hair, and there were faint lines at the corners of your eyes and mouth—the marks of a life spent enduring, waiting, and hoping against hope.

But your eyes were exactly the same. They were wide, filled with tears, and locked onto him with a fierce, unwavering intensity.

Ryland forgot about the protocol. He forgot about the dignitaries, the cameras, and the alien ship behind him. He broke into a run.

"[Name]!" he screamed, his voice cracking with the sheer volume of his emotion.

The guards didn't even try to stop you as you ducked under the barrier. You met him halfway across the concrete, colliding with a force that nearly knocked both of you to the ground.

Ryland’s arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off your feet, pulling you so close that there was no space left between you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, just as he had done fifteen years ago on the morning the world started ending. But this time, the sun above you was bright, hot, and blindingly alive.

"You're here," you sobbed into his shoulder, your hands clutching at his back, your fingers digging into the fabric of his flight suit as if convincing yourself he wasn't a ghost. "You're real. Oh my god, Ryland, you came back."

"I came back," he choked out, his tears wetting your collar. "I always wanted to come back. I remembered you, [name]. Even when I forgot my own name, I remembered you."

He set you down carefully, but his hands didn't leave your face. He held you by the cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the tears streaming down your face, repeating the gesture from a lifetime ago. He drank in the sight of you, memorizing every new line, every nuance that time had added to the face he had stared at on a tiny piece of paper for light-years.

"I kept my promise," you whispered, reaching up to cover his hands with yours. "I stayed. I waited. I knew you'd find a way."

"I had help," Ryland said with a wet, breathless laugh. He turned slightly, keeping one arm securely wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his side as he pointed back toward the massive, gleaming structure of the Hail Mary.

Through a massive, reinforced viewport near the base of the ship, a large, dark, five-legged creature was pressing its carapace against the glass, waving two of its claws in an enthusiastic, chaotic greeting.

You gasped, your eyes widening as you stared at the Eridians. "Is that...?"

"That's Rocky," Ryland said, his voice brimming with affection and pride. "He's the reason I'm alive. He's the reason the sun is bright. And he really wanted to meet the person from the photograph."

You looked from the alien waving frantically from the spaceship to the man standing beside you. The weight of the fifteen-year nightmare, the cold winters under a dying sun, the suffocating loneliness of an empty house—it all evaporated, burning away under the brilliant, triumphant heat of the afternoon sky.

You turned back into Ryland's embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck, hiding your face against his chest as he held you like you were the most precious thing in the entire universe.

"Let's go introduce him then," you murmured against his skin, a soft, radiant smile finally breaking across your face. "We have fifteen years of catching up to do."

Above you, the sun shone on a saved world, and for the first time in a very long time, Ryland Grace was finally home.

He doesn't mean to fall asleep.

The crying has exhausted him, left him hollow and wrung out like a rag. His eyes are swollen. His throat is raw. His head aches from dehydration and vodka and the sheer force of his own grief.

He drags blankets from the empty bunks. He drags pillows too. He makes a nest on the floor beside your bed—a pathetic, lumpy nest of stolen comforters and flat pillows and one stuffed animal he found in your bag. He lies down on his side, facing you.

He doesn't mean to fall asleep.

But his body betrays him. His eyes close. His breathing slows. And he slips into darkness.

He's in a room.

Not the ship. Somewhere else. Somewhere with fluorescent lights and folding chairs and a projector screen. A safety lecture. He can tell by the boredom radiating off the other people in the room: scientists, engineers, astronauts, all of them slouched in their seats, doodling on notepads, checking their watches.

He's not sitting. He's standing near the back, leaning against the wall, half-listening. He doesn't feel like part of this. He feels like an observer. Like he's just… hanging around.

The instructor is droning on about stasis protocols. Something about the medically induced coma. Something about the waking process. Ryland's attention drifts. He looks at the ceiling. He looks at the exit sign. He looks at a woman in the front row who's braiding her hair.

Then the instructor says something that snags his attention.

"-in the event that the automated waking mechanism fails, a manual override code is required. This code is unique to each mission and is stored in the physical safety codes binder, which can be found in the cockpit. The binder is labelled, and the code is listed under 'Medical' and then 'Stasis.' The code format is five numbers followed by three letters. Do not attempt to wake a crew member without this code. Doing so can cause seizures, strokes, permanent brain damage, or death."

Ryland's ears prick up. He's paying attention now.

"Once the code is entered into the stasis pod's manual interface, the waking process will begin automatically. The crew member will regain consciousness within five to six hours. During this time, their vitals should be monitored closely. Do not remove any tubes or IVs until they are fully awake and the system indicates it is safe to do so."

The instructor clicks to the next slide. A diagram of the stasis pod. Arrows pointing to the manual interface. A list of steps.

Ryland tries to memorize it. He doesn't know why. He doesn't know that he'll need it. He just… files it away. Somewhere deep in his brain. Somewhere the coma couldn't erase.

The dream shifts. The room blurs. The instructor's voice fades.

And then he's somewhere else. A hallway. A door. A voice calling his name—

He wakes up.

His eyes snap open.

For a moment, he doesn't know where he is. The ceiling is wrong. The light is wrong. The humming of the ship is wrong.

Then he sees you.

Still asleep. Still breathing. Still alive.

The dream crashes back into him. The safety lecture. The code. The binder. The manual override.

"Oh my god." he whispers.

He scrambles to his feet. His legs are asleep—pins and needles shooting up from his knees—but he doesn't care. He stumbles, catches himself on the edge of your bed, and nearly falls on top of you.

He catches his breath. He looks at your face. Your closed eyes. Your slack mouth around the breathing tube.

"I'm going to wake you up." he says. His voice is shaking. "I'm going to wake you up. I know how. I remember. I fucking remember."

He checks your vitals first. Obsessively. Heart rate: steady. Blood pressure: good. Oxygen saturation: optimal. You are stable. You are healthy. You are ready.

He runs.

He runs and sprints through the corridors. His bare feet slap against the metal deck plates. He doesn't care. He doesn't care about anything except the binder.

He reaches the cockpit. Slides to a stop. His hands are shaking so badly he can barely grip the doorframe.

"Binder," he gasps. "Safety codes binder. Where is it?"

He tears through the cockpit. Drawers. Lockers. Shelves. He knocks over a stack of papers. He sends a pen flying. He doesn't care.

And then he sees it.

A black binder. Thick. Labelled in white letters: SAFETY CODES – DO NOT REMOVE FROM COCKPIT.

He grabs it. He almost drops it, his hands are shaking too much, but he catches it against his chest and hugs it like a lifeline.

He flips it open. His fingers are clumsy. He turns pages too quickly, skimming, searching.

"Medical-" he mutters. "Medical, medical, medical…"

He finds the tab. He rips it open and runs his finger down the page.

"Stasis. Stasis. Stasis override…"

There it is.

STASIS MANUAL OVERRIDE CODE – HAIL MARY MISSION

Code: 8472XKJ

He stares at it.

"8472XKJ." he whispers. "8472XKJ. 8472XKJ."

He repeats it over and over. He says it out loud. He says it in his head. He writes it on his palm with his finger, tracing the letters and numbers into his skin.

"8472XKJ. 8472XKJ. 8472XKJ."

He runs back.

When he reaches your compartment he's breathing hard. Sweat drips down his face. He doesn't care.

He kneels beside your bed and finds the manual interface (it's a small screen on the side of your pod, hidden behind a plastic cover). He's never noticed it before. He's never had reason to look.

He pulls off the cover. His fingers fumble. The cover drops to the floor. He doesn't care.

The screen lights up. A keypad appears. Alphanumeric. Five numbers, three letters.

His hand hovers over the keypad.

"8472XKJ." he whispers. "8472XKJ."

He types the first number. 8.

His finger trembles. He almost presses the wrong key. He pulls back, takes a breath, and tries again.

8.

4.

7.

2.

X.

He pauses. His finger hovers over the K.

"XKJ," he mutters. "X, then K, then J."

He types K.

J.

He stares at the screen. The code is entered. The display reads: CONFIRM MANUAL OVERRIDE? YES / NO

He doesn't press yes. Not yet.

He reads the code again. He compares it to the binder. He reads it three times. Four times. Five times.

"8472XKJ. 8472XKJ. 8472XKJ."

It matches.

He presses YES.

The screen changes. A progress bar appears. MANUAL WAKE SEQUENCE INITIATED. ESTIMATED TIME TO CONSCIOUSNESS: 5-6 HOURS.

He stares at the screen.

"Five to six hours.." he whispers to himself.

He looks at you.

"Five to six hours," he says again. Louder this time. "You're going to wake up. In five to six hours, you're going to wake up."

His eyes fill with tears.

"I'm going to be here." he says. "I'm going to be right here when you open your eyes. I'm not leaving. I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to be the first thing you see."

He takes your hand. He settles onto the floor beside your bed. And he waits.

The first hour is agony.

He watches the clock. He watches your vitals. He watches your face for any sign of change. Every beep of the heart monitor makes him jump. Every flicker of your eyelids makes him hold his breath.

Nothing happens. Not yet. The manual override is working, the screen says so, but the changes are internal. Chemical. Neurological. Things he can't see.

He talks to you. He can't stop talking.

"You're going to be confused when you wake up." he says. "I was confused. I didn't know where I was or who I was or why I was here. I panicked. I screamed. I broke things. I hit things. I had a tantrum like a fucking toddler. Glad you weren't awake to see that.."

He laughs. It's a nervous, shaky sound.

"You probably won't do that. You seem calmer than me. More together. Even in a coma, you're more together than me."

He squeezes your hand.

"But if you do panic, that's okay. That's so okay. I'm here. I'm not going to let you hurt yourself. I'm going to talk you through it. I'm going to be the calm one. For once in my life, I'm going to be the calm one."

The second hour passes. Then the third.

He's dozing. Not sleeping (he couldn't sleep now, not when you're so close to waking) but drifting. His eyes are half-closed. His head is resting on the edge of your bed. His hand is still holding yours.

And then—

Your fingers twitch.

It's small. Barely noticeable. A slight contraction of the muscles in your hand. But he feels it. He feels it because his hand is wrapped around yours, because he's been holding on for hours, because he hasn't let go even to eat or drink or use the bathroom.

His eyes snap open.

"Hey." he says. "Hey, can you hear me? I'm here. I'm right here."

Your eyelids flutter. Not open—not yet—but flutter. Your breathing changes. The ventilator is still doing most of the work, but he can see your chest rising and falling with more effort now. Your body is trying. Your body is fighting.

"That's it," he says. "That's it. You're almost there. You're doing so good. You're doing so good, kid."

He sits up straighter. He moves to kneel beside your head, close to your face. He wants you to see him. He wants to be the first thing you see.

"I'm here. I'm right here. When you open your eyes, I'm going to be right here. You're not alone. You're never going to be alone again."

It happens slowly.

Your eyes open. Just a crack at first. Then wider. Then wider still.

You are looking at him.

His breath catches in his throat. His heart slams against his ribs. He has never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life.

"Hey-" he whispers. His voice breaks and cracks like a teenager's. "Hey there- hey. Welcome back."

You blink. Your eyes are unfocused. Confused. You don't understand where you are or what's happening or who this strange man is, leaning over you with tears in his eyes and a smile that's trying so hard to be brave.

Your mouth opens. The breathing tube is still there. You try to speak and nothing comes out: just a choked, garbled sound around the plastic in your throat.

Your eyes go wide.

"Hey, hey, hey." he says, standing up quickly. "Don't try to talk. There's- there's a- a tube in your throat. Don't panic, it's just helping you breathe. I'm going to take it out, okay? I'm going to take it out and then you can breathe on your own. But you have to stay calm. Can you stay calm for me?"

You don't answer. You can't answer. Your breathing quickens—too fast, too shallow. The heart monitor starts beeping faster. The ventilator wheezes as you fight against it.

Panic.

You're panicking.

He sees it in your eyes. The same panic he felt when he woke up alone. The same confusion. The same terror.

But you're not alone.

"Okay-" he says. "Okay- okay, I'm taking it out now. Hold still."

He reaches for the breathing tube. His hands are shaking, but he forces them to be steady. He remembers the medical training, slightly fragmented, fuzzy, but there. He knows how to do this.

He deflates the cuff. He pulls gently. The tube slides out.

You gasp.

It's a horrible sound, a wet, choking, desperate gasp. Your body isn't used to breathing on its own yet. Your throat is raw. Your lungs are burning.

But you're breathing.

You're breathing.

"That's it," he says. "That's it. Just breathe. Slow breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth. You can do this. You're doing so good."

You're not doing good. You're hyperventilating. Your chest is heaving. Your hands are clawing at the sheets, at the IV lines, at the tubes still taped to your arms.

"No, no, no," he says. "Don't pull those. Those are keeping you alive- leave them alone. Please, kid, leave them alone."

But you're not listening. You can't hear him. The panic has you. Your hands find the IV in your elbow. Your fingers curl around the tube. You start to pull-

He doesn't think.

He just moves.

He climbs onto the bed—onto your bed, onto the narrow medical cot—and he wraps his arms around you.

It's not gentle. It's not careful. It's desperate. He pins your arms to your sides. He presses you flat against his chest. One arm brackets across your back, holding you so tightly you can barely move. His other hand cups the back of your head, pressing your face against his chest, right over his heart.

"Stop," he says. His voice is low. Firm. Desperate. "Stop. You're okay. You're safe. I've got you. I've got you and I'm not letting go."

You struggle. For a moment, just a moment, you try to push him away. Your hands are trapped between your bodies, but you twist and squirm and try to get free.

He doesn't let go.

"Shhh," he says. "Shhh, shhh, shhh. It's okay. It's okay. You're not alone. I'm here. I'm right here. Just breathe. Just breathe with me."

He rocks you. Slightly. Gently. Back and forth, back and forth. The same motion he vaguely remembers using with his students when they scraped their knees or lost a pet or failed a test they studied for.

And then..

You stop fighting.

Your body goes limp against his. Your hands uncurl from the IV lines. Your breathing slows. The panicked gasping gives way to hiccups, then to soft tears, then to a small, barely-there tremble.

You're crying. Quietly. Softly. Your tears soak into his shirt, right over his heart.

He keeps rocking you. Keeps sushing you. Keeps holding you.

"That's it," he whispers. "That's it. Just let it out. I've got you. I'm not going anywhere."

He smells like soap. Like laundry detergent. Like the cheap cologne he found in one of the deceased crew member's lockers and decided to use because he wanted to feel human again.

You press your face into his chest. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. You are so small. So warm. So alive.

He closes his eyes. Tears slide down his cheeks. He doesn't wipe them away. He just holds you.

Eventually, however, hte crying winds down.

It takes a while, but eventually your breathing evens out. Your trembles fade. Your hands stop clutching and start just… resting.

You tilt your head back. Just slightly. Just enough to look up at his face.

Your eyes are red. Your cheeks are wet. Your lips are chapped and raw from the breathing tube.

You open your mouth.

"Grace…?"

Your voice is barely a whisper. Cracked. Rusty. Unused.

But it's there.

And you remember him.

His heart stops.

And before he can say anything—

The world tilts.

He's not on the ship anymore. He's somewhere else. A hallway. Fluorescent lights. The smell of coffee and disinfectant.

He's standing outside a door. His door. His lab door. He recognizes the little plaque: DR. RYLAND GRACE – MOLECULAR BIOLOGY.

There's someone with him. A man. Black. Familiar. Carl. His friend. His colleague. The man from the other flashbacks.

Carl is holding a polaroid camera. He's grinning. He's saying something—the words are muffled, like Ryland is hearing them through water—but he's gesturing excitedly.

And then-

"Grace!"

A voice. Young. Excited. Familiar in a way that makes his chest ache.

He turns.

And there you are.

You're running toward him. Your face is flushed. Your eyes are sparkling. You're holding a piece of paper covered in calculations and you're so excited you can barely contain yourself.

You collide with his side. Not hard, you're not trying to hurt him, but with enough force that he has to lift his arm to accommodate you. His arm settles around your shoulders automatically, like it's done this a hundred times before.

You wrap both arms around his waist. You press your cheek against his chest, right over his heart. You look up at him with eyes so bright, so full of joy, so desperate for his approval.

"I got it!" you say. Your voice is clearer now. Less muffled. "I finally got it! The calculus! I've been working on it for two days and I finally got it right!"

He looks down at you. His face softens. He smiles.

"Yeah? I'm so proud of you, kid." he says. And he means it. He means it so much it hurts.

"Smile!" Carl's voice cuts through. Muffled, but recognizable. "Smile for the flash!"

Ryland barely has time to look up. He sees Carl raising the polaroid camera. He sees the lens pointing at them.

He looks back at you. You're still pressed against his side. Still beaming up at him.

He smiles. He gives a clumsy thumbs up with his free hand.

And then the flash.

White. Blinding. Bright.

And then he's back.

He's on the ship. He's holding you. You're looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes, waiting for an answer.

The memory is still burning in his chest. The hallway. The lab. The polaroid. The way you looked at him like he was the only person whose opinion mattered.

"Dr. Grace?" you say again, using his title this time, as if afraid of having overstepped some invisible boundary. Quieter this time. Nervous. "Are you… are you okay?"

He stares at you.

And then he pulls back. Just enough to cup your face in his hands. His thumbs brush your cheeks, wiping away the tears.

"Yeah-" he says. His voice is thick. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm- better than okay, actually. I'm…"

He laughs. It's a wet, broken, beautiful sound.

"I remember you, kid." he says. "I don't remember your name. I'm sorry. I don't remember your name. But I remember you. I remember holding you. I remember you running up to me with your calculations. I remember how excited you were. I remember how proud I was."

Your eyes widen.

"I remember too, bits and pieces. But we were- are, friends, right?"

He nods, now just holding your face in his hands, looking at you like you're the only thing in the universe.

"Do you remember who you are?" he asks.

You hesitate. Your brow furrows. You're trying. He can see you trying.

"I…" you start. Then stop. Your face crumples. "I don't… I don't remember my.. name. I don't remember…"

"Hey," he says quickly. "Hey, it's okay. I didn't remember my name either. I didn't remember anything at first. It comes back. Slowly. In pieces. But it comes back."

He sees the panic rising in your eyes. The same panic he felt when he woke up and didn't know who he was.

"Okay, different look at the question." he says. "Do you remember who you ARE? Not your name. Not the details. Just… who you are. As a person. What you like.. what you don't- um, your favourite food, maybe?"

You pause. You think.

And then you nod. Slowly. Tentatively.

"I think so.." you whisper. "I remember… I remember being smart. I remember that i like working hard. I remember…"

You look at him.

"I remember you," you say. "I remember trusting you. I remember feeling safe when you were around."

His heart cracks open.

"That's enough," he says. "That's more than enough, gosh. Your name will come back. The details will come back. But you know who you are. That's the important part."

He pulls you into his chest again. He can't help it. He needs to hold you. He needs to feel you. He needs to know you're real.

He doesn't let go.

He can't.

He holds you like a child holds a stuffed animal—desperately, needily, like you're the only thing keeping him from falling apart. His arms are wrapped around you so tightly you probably can't breathe, but you don't complain. You just press your face into his chest and let him hold you.

He strokes your hair. The back of your head. Slow, gentle strokes, the way you might pet a cat or soothe a crying baby.

"I was so scared." he whispers into your hair. "I was so fucking scared when I woke up. I thought I was alone. I thought I was the only one. I was screaming and crying and throwing tantrums like a child and I thought I was going to die alone and no one would ever know."

His voice breaks.

"And then the ship said there were two living organisms. Two. And I ran. I ran so fast. I didn't even know who you were but I ran because I couldn't be alone. I couldn't. I would have done anything. I would have sold my soul for a rat. For a cockroach. For anything alive that wasn't me."

You chuckle, wetly. He rocks you. Gently. Slightly. Back and forth, back and forth.

"And then I saw you. And you were so young. So small. You looked like my students. Like the kids I left behind. And I thought, 'How could they do this? How could they send a child?'"

He presses his cheek against the top of your head.

"And then I found our picture. The one Carl took. The one where you're wrapped around me like a koala and I'm giving a thumbs up like an idiot. And I…"

He stops. His throat closes up.

"mnhm?"

"I threw up." he admits. "I wasn't even drunk. I just looked at your face and I threw up because I couldn't handle how much I cared about you and I didn't even remember you."

You shift in his arms. Your hand comes up to rest on his chest, over his heart.

"Really?" you whisper.

"Oh, really." he says. "I've been talking to you for days. I've been holding your hand. I've been reading to you. I've been crying over you. I've been praying to a god I don't believe in to please please please let you wake up."

He pulls back. Just enough to look at your face.

"You're not alone." he says. "You're never going to be alone. I don't care what happens. I don't care if we die out here. I don't care if we save the world or if we fail. We're going to do it together. You and me. That's the deal. That's the only deal."

Your eyes fill with tears.

"Okay." you whisper.

"'kay." he echoes.

He pulls you back into his chest. He holds you tighter. He rocks you slower.

He is not alone.

He is not alone.

He is not alone.

He doesn't realize he's doing it.

He doesn't realize that he's using you to regulate himself—that every stroke of your hair, every gentle rock, every whispered reassurance is as much for him as it is for you. He is soothing himself through you. He is holding onto you because if he lets go, he might shatter.

His heart rate is slowing. His breathing is evening out. The panic that has been living in his chest since he woke up. The constant, low-grade terror that he is alone in the universe. Is finally, finally starting to quiet.

Because you're here.

Because you're warm.

Because you're alive.

He presses his nose into your hair. You smell like hospital soap and sleep and something else.. something young and clean and human.

"'m sorry." he murmurs. "I'm being so needy. I'm probably crushing you. I should let go."

He doesn't let go.

"You don't have to let go.." you say. Your voice is muffled against his chest.

"I'm getting snott all over y'r hair, kiddo."

"I don't mind."

He laughs. It's a wet, shaky sound.

"You're too nice to me." he says.

"You were way too nice to me, too, back on earth." you say. "So now i'm giving it back."

He stops breathing.

"Who told you that..?" he whispers.

"no one.." you say. "I just… know. I remember that."

He closes his eyes.

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, okay."

He holds onto you as the adrenaline fades.

As his body remembers that he hasn't slept properly in days. That he's been surviving on vodka and protein bars and sheer desperation. That he's cried so much he's probably dehydrated.

His arms loosen around you. Not because he wants to let go, he never wants to let go, but because his muscles are giving out.

"I'm tired.." he admits.

"Then sleep." you say.

"I can't. What if you…"

"I'm not going anywhere." you say. "I'm right here. I'm not leaving."

He looks down at you. At your young, tired, tear-stained face. At your red eyes and chapped lips and the small smile you're trying to give him.

"You promise?" he asks. And he hates how small his voice sounds. How childlike.

"I promise." you say.

He nods. He settles back against the medical mattress. He pulls you with him carefully, gently, minding the IV lines and the monitors, until you're both lying on the bed.

He wraps his arms around you again. You curl into his side, your head on his shoulder, your hand resting on his chest.

"Is this okay?" he asks.

"This is okay." you say.

He closes his eyes.

"Goodnight, kid." he whispers.

"Goodnight, Dr. Grace."

He wants to correct you. Wants to tell you to call him Ryland. But he's too tired. Too wrung out. Too overwhelmed by the simple miracle of you being here, being awake, being alive.

He falls asleep with you in his arms.

And for the first time since he woke up on this ship, he doesn't dream of being alone.

Eddie hummed, rolling his eyes as he looked at his band's platinum records on the wall. "I still don't understand how this movie made it past the writers' room. No one can seriously be that interested in sitting down and watching a two-hour movie about our lives."

You raised an eyebrow at him, and your hands moved down to rest on the shoulders of his black velvet suit you forced him into, "but you can understand how millions of people can buy your albums, attend your tours..." 

Eddie let out a gravelly laugh, "Corroded Coffin is a household name, sweetheart." He leaned in, a smirk playing on his lips. "But you would know all about being a household name, wouldn't you? Playboy Model... Miss Hawkins of.... what year was it again?"

"Multiple years, actually," you corrected, tilting your chin up slightly with a grin.

Playboy was once all your life revolved around in the first few years of you and Eddie living in LA, but it soon got replaced by Penthouse and other modelling opportunities that widened your world to more than naked photoshoots.

"And just how many is that?" he teased, looping his arms around your waist. 

"Thirty years, give or take," you replied, leaning into his chest, "now you need to be on your best behaviour, the limousine is outside waiting.

Eddie tightened his grip around you, "Limousine..." he sighs, "I still miss my van."

"You miss a lot of things from that town, Eds. It's a wonder you didn't go back."

The sleek white limousine came to a halt against the curb of the Chinese Theatre, and as soon as Eddie's door opened and he stepped out, the cameras began flashing in a frenzy. Eddie takes your hand, helping you to your feet, and all you could hear was your names being repeated here and there with demands on where to look and how to pose, with your agent quickly taking over, keeping you preoccupied on who to answer to and when to move on. 

Flashing lights and demands from paparazzi weren't anything new. On tour, you’d seen your husband ambushed in dim airport terminals and hotel entrances, powering through the sea of demands like a trooper, ignoring the re-sellers and only lingering around to scrawl his messy signature on battered Corroded Coffin CDs or a vintage poster for fans who saw Corroded Coffin as their lifeline.

"Mr and Mrs Munson!" a journalist shrieked, leaning over the velvet rope. "Please, just a moment!"

You glided towards her, Eddie's hand still gripping yours.

The journalist thrust a foam-tipped microphone toward you, "How does it feel, finally attending the premiere of a movie that showcases your entire lives? From the trailer park to the Hollywood Hills? You being fired from Enzos-"

"It's pretty surreal," you replied politely, maintaining eye contact. 

"Madness." Eddie added, "Feels like I'm trapped in some sort of dream that's too good to be true."

"They say the movie focuses heavily on the Found Family aspect of your lives," the reporter continued. "Is that still true today?"

"Absolutely," you said, leaning in slightly. "Found family is just as vital now as it was when we were teenagers... It's important for everyone watching to know that there is so much more to family than a bloodline."

"Now, Mr Munson," she turned to him, thrusting the microphone closer, "while we have you... Any comments regarding your longstanding feud with Tommy Lee?" 

Eddie clenched his jaw and swallowed hard, offering the journalist a smug expression and a firm, "I'm not saying nothin' about that asshole."

Before she could push her luck, he whisked you further down the carpet, his arm sliding firmly around your waist and leaned down, whispering in your ear. 

"He better not be here tonight."

"He won't be," you reassured him, "two of you in one room together? I'd rather be locked in a room with angry bees."

"Just remember it wasn't a fight, I was defending your name."

The ongoing feud began five years after your move to LA when Corroded Coffin was on the biggest tour of their career as the opening band for Mötley Crüe

Eddie had just finished refreshing himself in his hotel room when he found you cornered near the bar by Tommy Lee, who was leaning into your personal space with half a bottle of whiskey in his hand. 

"Come on," he’d drawled again, "You’re really telling me you’re satisfied with a scruffy little nobody, AND the occasional bedroom set with Hugh Hefner? You need a real rock star to show you a good time."

At this time in your career with Playboy, rumours started swirling that you had slept with Hugh to get yourself on multiple covers of the magazine.

"Tommy, I've said no already, now fuck off."

Eddie quickly hurried over and stepped between you and Tommy; the sight of him closing in on you frightened him. He knew what the band were like on tour. No one's girl was safe. No one.

"Something wrong, sweetheart?"

"He's trying to get me into bed with him!" You didn't hold back, "The asshole accused me of sleeping with Hef too!"

Eddie didn't blink as he socked Tommy across the face, sending his bottle of whiskey flying across the bar and smashing. Before Tommy could brace for another blow, Eddie grabbed his shirt and pulled him into him, their faces just an inch apart.

"If you ever talk to my girl like that," his eyes widened and jaw clenched, "or if her name ever leaves your mouth again, I swear to god I'll break both of your fuckin' arms."

Three hours later, the real fight broke out between the two of them over the TV in Tommy's hotel room; the tour ended with a very expensive fine from the hotel, and both bands were blacklisted for life.

The theatre lights dimmed, and everyone went quiet as you and Eddie got yourselves comfortable in the seats, your fingers lacing together when the studio logo flickered onto the screen, the opening shot of Eddie practising the Master of Puppets guitar solo in his bedroom, whilst you were draped over his mattress on your stomach, flicking through a Playboy magazine. 

"I never held my guitar like that," Eddie whispered in your ear, his eyes still fixed on the screen. 

"The only time I properly looked through one of those magazines was when I borrowed them off Steve for the first flight here," you whispered back, also unable to look away.

"Where is he anyway?" Eddie asked, "We invited him, right?"

"His wife is heavily pregnant, there's no way in hell he's going to risk bringing her here. I told him it was fine, that we'd send them some gifts when the baby is born." 

You felt a strange, beautiful ache in your chest watching your life play out with actors and dramatised versions of certain events. Thirty years had gone by in the blink of an eye, it still seemed like yesterday when you and Eddie accepted David's offer and moved your life out of the small town and into your forever home. 

"I'm nervous," you whimpered, swallowing hard, looking out of the plane window. 

"Babe, this is going to be new for both of us, but we're together. We're doing this together." 

Eddie spent the last three days reassuring you since David phoned with the offer of a lifetime of work. You were excited and feeling thrilled that you could leave Hawkins with Eddie, but after the gossip, public firing, and being branded as Hawkins' biggest slut - your confidence had been run through the shredder a couple of times, leaving you with nothing. 

"What if it doesn't work out?" Tears form in your eyes at the thought of going back home with your head bowed as the town laughs.

"It's going to work out, okay?" Eddie kisses your temple, the aeroplane tilts slightly, "if it doesn't, we'll figure it out together." 

You were thankful for Eddie's strength and overall acceptance of your new life; you didn't think it would happen but when he realised that the opportunity would truly, actually, save you from a dead end, Eddie knew that, regardless of how many men would drool over you, he always had to be your biggest supporter. 

Men would look at you. Not touch you. Eddie got every piece of you to himself; everyone else got glossy high definition posters... he could live with that, he could live with being the man who wins in the end. 

"Just picture it for a sec, ten years... I'm a huge rockstar, and you're... whatever you want to be, still with Playboy, or signed with Penthouse, or doing whatever opportunity you take on. We're happy, we're doing more than just surviving on scraps. We're living in a big fuckin' house with a swimming pool outside, and we're... happy." 

As the plane inched closer and closer to LA, little did you know, Eddie managed to speak everything into existence. The two of you would make a future for one another that meant Hawkins would never see you return, forever. 

The final credits began to roll over a montage of you on the cover of your first Playboy magazine in '86, followed by Eddie's performance at the hideout, slowly trailing to your wedding photos and more high-profile photographs from your careers. As the screen faded to black, the lights in the theatre grew brighter, and the silence of the theatre was obliterated by the cheering and applause from your guests who had stood up out of their chairs, staring at you and Eddie.

The two of you remained seated, slightly embarrassed from the inaccuracies in the movie but appreciative of the response from everyone else. 

"Well," Eddie leaned over, "I don't recall getting into a fist fight with your talent scout... David? I'm sure that was his name... who the hell wrote that scene in?!"

You let out a shaky, emotional laugh, wiping a stray tear before it could ruin your makeup. "The same person who wrote in that atrocious scene of Tommy and me kissing."

Eddie grimaced and reached out to take your hand, "The casting crew could've worked a little harder, the actress they hired to play you..." Eddie lowered his voice more in case she could overhear him, "can't act for shit." He pulled your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of your hand.

You stared into his eyes, and the applause seemed to fade away, the theatre with it too. It felt like you were back in his trailer, thirty years ago, the two of you lying on his stained mattress, your head resting comfortably in his lap as he massages your hair, stroking circles into your scalp whilst he hums along to Black Sabbath playing quietly in the corner of his room.

"We really made it, baby,"  Eddie whispered in your ear, pulling you out of the memory, his bedroom disappearing into thin air. 

He leaned in, his hand cupping your cheek as he pulled you into a deep, lingering kiss. 

When you finally pulled apart, Eddie stood up first, holding out his hand for you to hoist yourself up, facing the room of applause and whistling together, shyly nodding and smiling at everyone. 

"I told you, remember?" you murmured into his ear, "I couldn't do any of this without you."

That's The End of Miss Hawkins 1986

If you enjoyed this series, you might like Eddie's Bunny

reblogging is a writers best friend :)

He doesn't mean to ask it.

It's been maybe an hour since he woke up. Maybe two. Time is meaningless when your brain is scrambled eggs and your body feels like it was put through a trash compactor. He's been wandering the Hail Mary in a daze, touching walls, opening drawers, staring at screens that blur and swim before his eyes.

He found the cockpit by accident. Stumbled into it like a drunk, his hands dragging along the bulkheads, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. The chairs are empty. The displays are dark. The stars outside are steady and uncaring.

He stands in the middle of the room, turns in a slow circle, and feels the walls closing in.

"How many awake people are on this ship?"

His voice cracks. He sounds like a child asking for his mother in a dark room. He didn't mean for it to come out that weak. He didn't mean to ask at all. The question just… fell out. Like a scream you don't realize you're screaming until your throat hurts.

The ship's voice is calm. Robotic. Indifferent.

"Listing awake personnel aboard the Hail Mary. Dr. Ryland Grace. End of list."

He blinks.

"What?"

The ship does not repeat itself. It answered. It's done.

"No." he says. "No, that's not… there must be others. There must be- there must be other people."

"Awake personnel: Dr. Ryland Grace. End of list."

It starts small.

A sound. A noise he didn't know he could make. It comes from somewhere deep in his chest—a keening, animal wail that builds and builds until it tears out of his throat.

"NO!"

He kicks the pilot's chair. The impact shoots up his bare foot—he's still in the hospital gown, still barefoot, still wearing the stupid fucking medical bracelet with his name on it—and the pain makes him angrier.

He kicks it again. And again. And again.

"NO NO NO NO NO!"

His fists join in. He punches the back of the chair. Then the armrest. Then the display screen, which flickers and glitches and shows him his own reflection: a wild-eyed, hollow-cheeked stranger with matted hair and tears already streaming down his face.

He grabs the chair and shakes it. Shakes it like he can wake it up, like he can force it to give him a different answer. The chair doesn't move. It's bolted to the floor. He is shaking nothing but himself.

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!"

He's screaming at the universe now. At God, if there is one. At the empty stars. At the ship. At the ghosts of the crew he doesn't remember.

"YOU CAN'T JUST LEAVE ME HERE! YOU CAN'T JUST... just…"

His voice breaks. He drops to his knees. The floor is cold metal against his thin gown. He slams his palm against it once, twice, three times.

"I didn't ask for this," he sobs. "I didn't want this. I didn't sign up for this. I'm just a teacher. I teach middle school. I'm nobody. I can't do this alone."

He's crying so hard he can barely breathe. Snot and tears mix on his face. His chest heaves. He curls forward, pressing his forehead to the cold floor, and screams into the metal.

"I CAN'T DO THIS ALONE!"

He pounds his fists against the floor. He kicks his heels against the deck plates. He is throwing a tantrum like a child—a full-body, snotty, ugly, desperate tantrum. He doesn't care how he looks. There's no one to see. There's no one to judge. There's no one.

"I HATE YOU!"

He doesn't know who he's yelling at. The universe. Stratt, whoever that is. The people who put him here. Himself. Himself most of all.

"I HATE YOU, RYLAND! YOU PATHETIC, USELESS, COWARDLY PIECE OF SHIT! YOU COULDN'T EVEN REMEMBER HOW YOU GOT HERE! YOU'RE GOING TO DIE ALONE IN A METAL COFFIN AND NO ONE IS EVER GOING TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU BECAUSE YOU'RE A NOBODY! A NOBODY WHO TEACHES MIDDLE SCHOOL SCIENCE TO KIDS WHO DON'T EVEN LISTEN!"

His voice echoes off the walls. The ship is silent. The stars are silent. The universe is silent.

He is alone.

He is so alone.

"I'm the only person alive in this god damn ship," he whispers, his voice raw and broken. "The only living organism in this entire fucking metal tomb. I'm going to talk to myself until I go insane and then I'm going to die and my corpse is going to float through space forever and no one will ever-"

"Number of living organisms aboard the Hail Mary: two."

The voice is the same. Calm. Indifferent. Robotic.

It might as well have set off a bomb.

Ryland's head snaps up. His eyes are red, swollen, wild. His breath catches in his chest. His entire body goes rigid.

"What?"

"Number of living organisms aboard the Hail Mary: two."

He doesn't move. Doesn't breathe. His brain is short-circuiting, trying to process words that don't make sense.

"That's… that's not…"

"Number of living organisms aboard the Hail Mary: two."

"SHUT UP!" he screams. "STOP LYING TO ME!"

But the ship doesn't lie. He knows this. The ship's computer doesn't have the capacity for deception. It reports data. Cold, hard, unfeeling data.

Two.

Two living organisms.

Him and…

"Show me," he chokes out. "Show me the other one. Visual. Holographic. Whatever you have. SHOW ME. SHOW. ME!"

The holographic display flickers to life. It projects a diagram of the ship, a wireframe rendering of the Hail Mary in all her glory. And there, in the crew quarters section, is a blinking dot.

A bed compartment. Closed. Still sealed in its wall cradle.

He stares at it for thirty seconds. Maybe longer. Time has stopped. The universe has contracted to a single point of light on a holographic display.

A bed compartment. Closed.

He saw two open beds. The ones with the bodies. He was so focused on the horror of the dead that he didn't count the walls. He didn't realize that three beds were visible from his waking room… and that there were four total.

Four beds.

Four crew members.

Two dead. One alive (him). And one…

"Oh god." he breathes. "Oh god oh god oh god."

He is on his feet before he makes the conscious decision to stand. His legs are shaking. His vision is blurred with tears. He doesn't care.

He runs.

The hospital gown flaps around his thighs. His bare feet slap against the metal deck plates. He doesn't know where he's going, the hologram showed him the location but his brain is too fried to process it, so he just runs in the direction of the crew quarters, trusting his body to remember what his mind cannot.

He skids around a corner. His shoulder catches a doorframe and he stumbles, nearly falls, catches himself on the wall and keeps going. The pain doesn't register. Nothing registers except the blinking dot on the hologram, the promise of another heartbeat, another set of lungs, another living soul in this godforsaken metal tube.

"Please be alive," he gasps as he runs. "Please please please please please."

He doesn't know who he's begging. The universe that just abandoned him. The God he isn't sure he believes in. The ship. Himself. It doesn't matter. He begs anyway.

"Please be real. Please not be a glitch. Please not be a rat or a piece of meat or a fucking computer error. Please be a person. Please be alive. Please please please."

He reaches the crew quarters. Slides to a stop so fast his bare feet squeak on the metal. He looks at the wall where the beds are housed.

Three open compartments. Two of them reading 'deceased' on the tiny bity screen that marks their current state in stasis. One open compartment that is his, the sheets still rumpled from his own waking.

And one closed compartment.

Sealed. Silent. Intact.

He stares at it.

"Oh my god," he whispers. "Oh my god, you're real. You're actually real."

He finds the tool in a maintenance locker three corridors over. It's a manual crank, a long metal rod with a handle and a specialized head designed to fit the emergency release valves on the bed compartments. He doesn't remember learning about it. His hands remember for him.

He runs back. His lungs are burning. His legs are jelly. He is crying and sweating and shaking and he doesn't care.

He fits the crank into the release valve. Turns it. Nothing happens.

Turns harder. Still nothing.

"Come ON," he snarls. "COME ON!"

His hands are shaking too badly. He drops the crank. It clatters to the floor and rolls under one of the open beds. He drops to his knees, fishes it out, bangs his head on the bed frame on the way up, sees stars, ignores them.

Second try. He fits the crank. He takes a breath. He forces his hands to stop shaking by sheer force of will.

He turns.

The mechanism groans. Metal scrapes against metal. Hydraulics hiss. The sealed compartment begins to slide open, inch by inch, like a drawer being pulled from a wall.

"Come on come on come ON." he chants.

The compartment opens.

And there you are.

You are so small.

That's his first thought. Not "young" yet—just small. Curled slightly on your side, wrapped in medical sensors and tubing, your chest rising and falling in a slow, mechanical rhythm. The breathing tube in your throat moves with each cycle of the ventilator. IV lines snake into your arms. A heart monitor beeps softly, steadily, impossibly.

Alive.

You are alive.

He reaches out. His hand is shaking so badly he has to use his other hand to steady it. His fingertips touch your forehead.

Warm.

Not the cold, waxy skin of the dead. Not the room-temperature emptiness of a corpse. Warm. Living warmth. Human warmth.

He bursts into tears.

Not the angry, screaming tears of the tantrum. Not the desperate, pleading tears of the sprint. These are different. These are relief tears: gut-wrenching, body-shaking sobs that come from somewhere so deep he didn't know he had that much water in him.

"Oh thank god," he weeps. "Oh thank god thank god thank god."

He drops the crank. It clatters again. He doesn't care. He sinks to his knees beside your open compartment and presses his forehead against the edge of your bed and cries.

And then, through the tears, he looks at you.

Really looks.

Your face is smooth. Unlined. No crows feet, no worry lines, no grey in your hair. Your skin is young. The kind of young that hasn't been worn down by decades of disappointment and debt and dead-end jobs. Your hands are small. Your fingernails are chewed.

"Oh," he breathes. "Oh no."

He looks at your face again. Really looks. And does the math.

"How old are you?" he whispers to your sleeping form. "How old are you, kid?"

You don't answer. Of course you don't answer. You're in a coma. You can't hear him. You can't comfort him. You can't tell him that you're actually thirty-five and you just have good skin.

But he knows. Some deep, primal part of his brain, the part that's been a teacher for fifteen years, the part that has looked at thousands of young faces—knows.

You are twenty. Maybe nineteen. Maybe even eighteen.

You are a child.

You are a child in a metal coffin hurtling toward certain death, and you are the only other living person on this ship, and you are in a coma, and he doesn't remember how to wake you up, and if he does it wrong he could kill you, and you are a child, and—

He vomits.

Not dramatically. Just leans over and throws up on the floor beside your compartment. His stomach empties itself of the nothing that was in it. He heaves and heaves until there's nothing left, and then he sits back, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and looks at you again.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers. "I'm so sorry you're here. I'm so sorry you're stuck with me. I'm so sorry I'm the only one who came for you."

He reaches out and takes your hand. It's small in his. Small and warm and limp and alive.

"I'm not going to let you die," he says. "I don't know how I'm going to do that. I don't know anything. I'm a coward and a failure and I can't remember my own name half the time. But I'm not going to let you die. Do you hear me? I'm not going to let you die."

He says it like a promise. Like a vow. Like the only truth he has left.

He doesn't leave your side for the first six hours.

He sits on the floor beside your open compartment, your hand still in his, and he watches your chest rise and fall. He counts your breaths. He watches the heart monitor. He memorizes the rhythm of your life so that he will know immediately if something changes.

He talks to you. He can't stop talking.

"My name is Ryland. I don't know if I told you that. I don't know if you already know. I don't know if we met before the coma. I don't remember anything. Isn't that stupid? I'm on a spaceship hurtling toward another star and I don't remember how I got here or why I'm here or who any of the dead people were. I'm a mess. I'm a complete disaster."

He laughs. It's a broken, hollow sound.

"You're going to wake up and you're going to be so disappointed. You're going to look at me and think, 'This is the guy who's supposed to save us? This blubbering middle-aged weirdo in a hospital gown?' And you'd be right. You'd be completely right. I'm nobody. I'm just a teacher. I teach science to kids who don't care. I grade papers and eat microwave dinners and go to bed at nine-thirty. I'm not a hero. I'm not an astronaut. I'm not anything."

He squeezes your hand.

"But I'm here. And you're here. And I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you. I don't know how I'm going to keep that promise, but I'm going to keep it. Okay? Okay."

He falls silent. The ship hums around him. The ventilator breathes for you. The heart monitor beeps.

He cries again. Quietly this time. He leans his head against the edge of your bed and lets the tears fall.

He is not alone.

He is not alone.

He is not alone.

Over the next hour, he forces himself to think.

He can't wake you. He knows that much. Somewhere in the scrambled mess of his amnesiac brain is a memory, a lecture, maybe, or a training module, about the dangers of manually interrupting a medically induced coma. The brain is delicate. The chemical balance is precise. Waking someone too quickly can cause seizures. Strokes. Brain damage. Death.

He will not kill you.

He will not be the reason the only other living person on this ship dies.

So he waits.

He combs through the ship's computer for a manual. He searches the medical bay. He goes through the deceased crew members' belongings—feeling like a thief, feeling like a grave robber—looking for anything that might tell him how to safely wake you.

He doesn't find anything. Not yet.

He goes back to your compartment. He sits beside you. He holds your hand.

"I'm going to figure this out," he tells you. "I'm going to remember, or I'm going to find a manual, or I'm going to figure it out myself. I'm a scientist. That's what I do. I figure things out. I'm not going to let you sleep forever. I promise."

He looks at your young face. At your childish pajamas. At the IV lines and the breathing tube and the heart monitor.

"I promise," he whispers again.

And in the quiet of the ship, with your hand in his and your heart beating softly in the darkness, Ryland Grace makes a silent vow:

He will not fail you.

He has failed everyone else: his students, his crew, himself. But he will not fail you.

He can't.

You're all he has left.

The days that follow are a blur of terror and tedium.

He sleeps on the floor beside your compartment, using a rolled-up blanket as a pillow. He eats his meals there, sitting cross-legged, talking to you between bites. He reads aloud from the ship's manuals—not because he understands them, but because he wants you to hear a human voice.

"Chapter four," he reads, "maintenance of the astrophage fuel containment units. The primary containment vessel is constructed of a titanium-tungsten alloy rated to withstand temperatures of…"

He stops.

"This is incredibly boring. I'm sorry. If you can hear me, I'm sorry. I'll read you something else tomorrow. Something with pictures."

He reads you the ingredient list from a packet of space-food macaroni. He reads you the ship's emergency protocols. He reads you the labels from the vodka bottles in Yao's personal stash.

"This one is from Russia," he says, holding up a bottle. "I can't read Russian. It probably says something cool like 'May you live in interesting times' or 'Drink me and forget your problems.' I'm going to drink it and forget my problems. Don't tell anyone."

He drinks. He cries. He holds your hand. He talks.

"I'm scared," he admits, late one night. "I'm so scared. I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I'm strong enough. I don't know if I'm smart enough. I don't know anything anymore."

He looks at your sleeping face.

"But I'm not going to give up. Not while you're here. You're the reason I'm still trying. You know that? You're the only reason I haven't crawled into an airlock and opened the door. You're the only reason I'm still here."

He presses his forehead to your hand.

"So you have to wake up. Okay? You have to wake up so I'm not alone anymore. You have to wake up so I have someone to do this for. You have to wake up so I don't have to be brave by myself."

He cries.

The ship hums.

The stars watch.

And somewhere, deep in the darkness of your chemically-induced sleep, maybe—just maybe—you hear him.

"She's from here, right?" The other man replied, almost identical but with a bigger beer belly.

"Damn right she is. Great tits, gorgeous ass, and such a pretty lookin' pussy."

Eddie clenched his jaw so tight his teeth ached, his hand squeezing the half-cut lemon in his fist, making it squelch, causing the juices to run down his wrist. 

If you flip, you'll lose your job. These men are bikers; they'll destroy you. 

Keep it cool. Remember who she wrote about in her data sheet. Remember what she wrote.

PERFECT DATE: quiet nights in with my perfect man, watching slashers we rented from Family Video, cuddling up, sharing popcorn and missing half of the film because we're far too busy kissing.

Eddie cleared his throat as the men continued their grotesque talk.

"Come on, guys," he huffed, binning the lemon and wiping his palm and wrist with a tea towel "she deserves more respect than that." 

The men looked at one another and burst out in laughter, their large and round beer bellies jolting. 

"Respect?" 

"She's posing naked for the whole planet world to see for christ sake! She aint getting any more respect than a hooker would get!" 

Eddie couldn't keep cool anymore. He had tried to keep his anger and possessive nature to himself shift after shift, day after day, but he couldn't anymore. 

Eddie grabbed the half finished pint and splashed the rest of it in one mans face, his recoil from the liquid sending backwards off his bar stool. Before the other biker had time to react, Eddie lunged over the bar and grabbed the man by his leather vest with both hands, headbutting him. 

The biker grabbed the side of Eddie's shirt and pulled him down with him, all three men now on the cigarette and beer scented floor. The man who had the pint in his stinging eyes, snatched Eddie by the arm, turning him to face him before socking him between the eyes whilst his friend clumsily got to his feet, kicking Eddie in the lower back. 

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Bev raised her voice, storming over. 

Eddie didn't back down, he fought back with a bleeding nose and pulsating pain behind the eyes. Kicking back and managing to get to his feet, Eddie landed multiple punches, his thick silver rings rippling a series of welts across the customers face who disgraced you.

"Eddie, I am warning you!" Bev shrieked, "Stop this now!" 

"All this for some whore?" The biker spat, hitting Eddie again. 

"My fucking girlfriend, you mean!"

Bev pushed herself between the three of them, shouting at the top of her lungs. 

"Enough!"

The two customers stopped, both bloodied and bruised, their skin as pink as a pigs as their chests and bellies heaved up and down with their deep and laboured breaths.

Bev turned to face her employee, her eyes shooting daggers into him. 

Eddie's face was smeared with the blood from his nose, which dripped onto his shirt. His hands were cracked, swelling and purple, and his eyes were just as bad. 

"You're done. Give me your keys and get out." 

"W-What? Bev! They were-" 

"I don't care! I've heard it all with you, you're fired!" 

Eddie stared at his boss through his swelling, black eyes, shaking his head and kicking over a bar stool as he yanked the keys to the venue from his jeans pocket, throwing them at her. He stormed out of his workplace and dragged his feet through the carpark, swearing at the top of his lungs as he climbed into his van, the opening track from Megadeth's 'Killing Is My Business... and Business Is Good!' Album blared instantly. 

He repeatedly punched his steering wheel, focusing on the road ahead, muttering under his breath as he weaved in and out of traffic, closing in on the pharmacy. Pulling up, he didn't notice Steve's car in the lot. He climbed out, pinching his nose, leaving the engine going and music blaring. 

Eddie could hardly see through his blurred eyes, the swelling ten times worse than it was five minutes ago. By the time he grabbed the approriate pain meds that weren't from his own stash and got to the counter, he realised he had no cash on him. 

"Sir, I can't just give these to you. I'm sorry but we've got a business to run-"

Steve was at the back of the line, carrying his multivitamins in his hand. He peered over the long line of pensioners and noticed Eddie's wild nest of hair, and immediately hurried over, placing his vitamins on the counter. 

"Hey, it's all good. I can pay for it." 

Eddie huffed.

Great. Can my day get any worse?

"Harrington, don't."

Steve ignored him and pulled out the cash from his wallet, gently handing it over to the cashier. 

"Munson, it's fine. You look like shit and that shiner you've got needs more than an ice pack." 

Eddie reluctantly accepted Steve's help and the two of them walked out of the pharmacy, the tension between them felt slightly awkward but Eddie couldn't focus on what Steve had done after what the bikers had said about you, even the reality of being fired hadn't hit him just yet. 

"Quite a beating you've got there," Steve spoke up, finally reaching Eddie's van. 

Eddie pursed his lips, wetting them with the tip of his tongue. 

"Yeah, well, I had two older biker men against me. I don't think you'd last against them, either."

Steve broke out into a light laugh, he shook his head and sighed, "A few years back Jonathan Byers and I had a fight, and later on Billy Hargrove beat me to a pulp. You've handled yourself a whole lot better than I could've." 

Eddie appreciated Steve's kindness, slightly feeling bad about him buying the pain meds, but he reminded himself: let him pay for it after what he did.

Steve opened the passanger door but didn't climb in, Eddie gawked at him, his vision worsening. 

"Are you seriously suggesting...? No. No. No one else drives the van but me!" 

Steve rolled his eyes but didn't budge, "Get in, Munson. You're in no position to drive. You won't be able to spot a red light if it hit you in the-"

Eddie shot Steve a look, his bloody nose finally drying. 

Steve quickly stopped himself, "Sorry. You know what I'm trying to say."

"Fine," Eddie sighed, and crawled into his van, pushing his sore face into his hands.

Steve slammed the door on Eddie's side and walked around to the drivers, he climbed in and instantly turned the music down. Shuffling in the drivers seat and slamming the door, Steve paused and briefly turned to look at Eddie, his guilt he had for pleasuring himself over you in the magazine clawing at him again. 

"I'm so sorry, man," Steve swallowed hard, "for what I did."

Eddie wanted to clench his jaw but even moving it was agonising. His eye were closed and his hands were trembling, the adrenaline from the fight finally crashing. 

"It's just a magazine-"

"It's not," Steve turned away, his hands settling on the steering wheel, "I broke a clear boundary, that you needed me not to cross as your friend, your girlfriend's friend too. I lacked self control which isn't an excuse, and I'm sorry. I fucked up and I'm sorry."

Eddie clipped his seatbelt on, frightened of falling forward and hitting his face against the glovebox. 

"I'm thankful that you've realised that crossing that boundary was wrong, and I'm sure as hell thankful that you've apologised, but... stop beating yourself up, Harrington. You're not one of these grotesque creeps that sees my girl... women... as pieces of meat, as nothing but a hole."

"Is that why you're all bruised and bloody?" Steve reversed the van from the parking space and turned around, slipping back into traffick. 

Eddie slowly tried to open his eyes, but winced against the light. 

"What they said was disgusting, truly grim."

"Well I hope you gave them a good beating," Steve hummed, focusing on the traffic lights, "No one disrespects your girl and gets away with it."

The Friday evening rush at Enzo's wasn't anything new, you were used to a shift with the whole evening fully booked with young couples and families. Moving from table to table, taking new orders, collecting menus, bring over hot plates and bottles of wine, the live music and chatter kept you out of your intrusive thoughts until you brought over the final bill for a family of four: a husband and wife whom you presumed were in their forties with their two teenagers.

You hadn't noticed it but throughout the entire duration of their meal, the womans eyes tracked you across the entire resturant, burning deep holes across your body. On her lap sat your magazine, showcasing the same photo of you that was taped in the HideOut's toilet. 

Her eyes kept flickering from your face to the glossy image staring back at her, her face flushed a deep mottled shade of crimson.

"Excuse me," she hissed.

You paused, your professional smile firmly in place. "Is everything alright, Madam?"

"Is everything alright?" she repeated, mocking a laugh, "You should be ashamed of yourself!"

Stand your ground. Don't back down. 

"Was something wrong with the meal?" You contained yourself.

"Don't play coy with me," she snapped, lifting up the magazine from her lap as she stood up, her chair pushing backward. "This is you, I recognise your face, in this filthy magazine my idiotic husband failed to hide from me!" 

The restaurant, which had been a low roar of chatter, seemed to shrink around you. Every head at the nearby tables turned and the bands music came to a halt, and the husband stared pointedly at his wine glass, looking mortified.

"I'm a waitress," you corrected her, your voice tight and your cheeks burning, "was there a problem with your meal?"

"You are an embarrassment," she declared, loud enough for the kitchen staff in the back to hear. "I will not have my family eating in an establishment that employs a woman this disgraceful! Get your manager. Now!" 

Your head tilted downwards towards the ground, you stared at your shoes and slowly walked towards the office, feeling everyone staring at you, hearing their whispers before the band quickly started to pick up where they left off. 

"What is it?" Your manager asked, his eyes focused on his calculator and the large stack of reciepts next to it.

"T-There's a customer outside who demands to see you." You were quiet, your voice hollow.

Your manager got out of his chair and left the office, he slowly trailled behind you, your heart thumping and your eyes pricking with tears you were sick of feeling return again and again. 

The smell of garlic bread would comfort you after a confrontation with a customer, but the smell only made the knots in your stomach tighten even more. "This is the customer."

Your managers face dropped when he was brought over to the woman who had publicly shamed you, his cheeks flushed and his hands flew behind his back as he picked at his own nails. 

"I've been coming to your restaurant for how long?" She started, turning in her chair, the pads of her fingers brushing against her pearl necklace.

"Since we opened." Your manager responded, almost as quietly as you were in the office.

"Right. We were your first and highest paying customers." She outstretched her hand and pointed at you, "Fire her or we won't step foot in this place again, and we'll make sure everyone follows suit!" 

Your manager finally looked at you, his eyes were apologetic yet cold. 

"Remove your apron, leave it in the back and leave. We'll drop off your paycheque when it's due." He muttered, his voice barely audible. 

Your eyes widened at his words and the tears you were fighting so hard to control rolled down your cheeks and leapt off your chin. Without saying a word, you untied your apron, pulled it off your neck, and tossed it at your manager. Retrieved your bag in the office, picked up the phone, pleading with your parents to come and pick you up, not knowing that Eddie had lost his job hours earlier. 

Eddie lay in his bed holding a bulky bag of frozen peas to his swollen eyes, a little less rough from the over-the-counter pills and a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. 

"Switch it to the other eye," Steve reminded Eddie, pointing at the frozen peas.

Eddie wished he could roll his eyes; he wanted to so badly. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off from the phone ringing. 

"That'll be my girl," he chirped, hobbling to his feet, following the noise. 

Steve smiled lightly and followed Eddie, hanging back a moment to give you both privacy.

The sound of Eddie's voice only made you more upset. You sobbed down the phone, unable to control yourself. Steve could hear you from the other side of the phone, but couldn't make out what you were saying.

"Hey, hey, hey," Eddie cooed, "slow down, princess, what happened?"  

"He fired me, Eds," you continued to sob, wrapping the spiral cord around your finger, "in front of everyone after that woman humiliated me; it was awful!" 

Eddie mouthed "she needs me, now," to Steve whilst continuing to coo down the phone, telling you to take a deep breath. "Sweetheart, I'm on my way to your place, okay? Everything is going to be fine, I promise." 

Steve grabbed his car keys, twirling them around his index finger, waiting by the door for Eddie to finish the phone call.

The line went dead, Eddie hung up and limped towards the door, walking through it once Steve opened it, the two of them bursting out into the cold and nibbling evening air. 

"She's not the only one who got fired today," Eddie sighed, chewing at his lip, carefully settling into Steve's passenger seat, noticing how pristine his car was.

"Enzo's fired her? Over what?" Steve slowly pressed the pedal. 

"Art." 

Eddie pushed through your front door, the sight of him so bruised and swollen made your chest ache and heart thump. 

“Eds!” you gasped, “What happened? Who did this to you? “

He closed in on you in your dimly lit living room and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you so tight against him that your heartbeat seemed to sync with his.

“Don’t worry about it, doll,” Eddie murmured, his broken nose brushing against your neck, making him wince.

“Y-you’re hurt!” you cried even more, your eyes red raw from all the tears.

“I’m fine,” Eddie reassured you, “ice and meds can fix me.”

Your hands reached behind the back of Eddie’s head, your fingers tangling in his hair.

"They're pathetic,” he growled, “close-minded, miserable people who have to tear someone else down just to feel better about themselves. You’re fucking perfect, and they’re jealous because you had the guts to put yourself out there, and you looked beautiful doing it..”

Taking Eddie’s swollen hand, you led him to your bedroom, slowly pushing the door shut with your foot. 

"If anyone does something like this to you again, I’ll kill them," he said firmly, lying back on your bed.

Lying next to him, you let out a light laugh, eventually sighing, “You can’t kill everyone, Eds.”

Eddie pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around you “Why do you think I look like this?” 

You looked up and stared at him for a moment, slowly slipping out of his grip and sitting up, you held his hand gently to avoid hurting him.

“You’re not the only one who got fired today,” his eyes met yours. He wanted to look away but couldn’t, “two men came in the early afternoon whilst I was prepping the bar, finishing off slicing the lemons.”

Eddie squeezed your hand, though it felt as if he were halfway to snapping his fingers. 

“they were talking about their bikes until one of them brought you up, the stuff they said… it made me sick. I demanded them to respect you, your name, and they refused. I couldn’t keep it together anymore… when Bev managed to break up the fight, she fired me. Steve was looking after me; he dropped me off here.”

He didn't let go of your hand. Instead of scolding him for getting into the fight, you weakly smiled at him and lightly kissed him on the cheek. 

“Thank you for protecting me, even when I’m not there,” you hesitated, “but what are we going to do now?”

Eddie pulled you back into him, cradling you in his arms. “We’re not going to worry about what happens next, we’ve got each other, and that’s enough.”

The weekend slipped through your fingers whilst you and Eddie stayed cooped up in your bedroom, burning through a rack full of tapes Steve had delivered from Family Video. Eddie’s swelling eventually went down, slowly, although his bruising got darker and his nose was left slightly crooked.

You were both in the middle of messing around in the kitchen, halfway through cooking pancakes with flour in each other’s hair, still in your pyjamas, when the telephone rang. 

“Get it, babe.” Eddie teased, throwing another pinch of flour in your face, making you cough. 

Upon answering, you immediately recognised the smooth voice on the other line, his professional tone giving you deja vu.

"I have some news," David spoke up, skipping the pleasantries. “You have become our biggest success, an overnight craze, if you like.”

Your eyes widened. 

“We wanted to wait over a week and the sales are still increasing, we’re yet to see a drop, and we’ve been bombarded with desperate requests from countless of agencies, photographers, and big names in the industry who deal with high-end editorial and commercial work. They want you.”

You glanced at Eddie, who had a mouthful of pancake, which he topped with syrup. 

“Full-time?" you asked quietly but clearl enough for both Eddie and David to hear. 

“If that’s your manager from Enzo’s, tell him to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine,” Eddie chewed.

“Full-time,” David confirmed, “which involves you relocating here, permanently.”

You didn’t say anything, not yet, allowing David to continue.

“Just say the word, and we’ll fly you out. We’ve got a series of test shoots lined up that could launch your career properly, and there’s a stunning apartment ready for you to move into.” 

You glanced at Eddie, then looked around the home you grew up in, feeling sad and unsure, but you reminded yourself of Eddie’s beaten face, the horrific humiliation you were forced to endure at Enzo’s, the gossiping in the grocery store, and suddenly the realisation that you’d be able to finally get out of this town tingled your fingertips. You were at the brink of achieving the impossible; all you had to do was say yes. 

"David," you spoke up, trying to sound professional, "I want this badly, but if I say yes, I have one condition.” 

Eddie’s head snapped up at the name, his neck radiating a painful shock down his spine. 

There was a brief silence on the line, “My boyfriend comes too, permanently,” you continued, before he could protest. 

Eddie almost choked on his pancake and hurried over to you. 

“He's a musician, he’s a goddamn rockstar. He's been my bodyguard, a pretty good one at that.” You looked into Eddie’s eyes lovingly, reaching out to hold his hand, “If I'm moving my entire life to California, he's coming with me. If that's a deal-breaker, we're done here."

You held your breath, but David let out a thoughtful hum.

"I admire your loyalty," he finally said. "It's rare in this business. If he's as driven as you are, we can find him some work in the scene out here. I'll make the arrangements for two tickets. Be ready by the end of the week."

A large grin spread across your face, flashing your teeth. Eddie watched as you jumped up and down, squealing in excitement, chanting a hundred “thank you so much!”s before finally hanging up the phone.

“W-what is it?” he asked. 

“At the end of this week, we’ll be getting out of this shithole town, we’ll be on a plane heading for LA, where we’ll be starting over.” 

Eddie's expression flashed with shock, followed by a surge of overwhelming relief. "LA… Like..."

You nodded, unable to stop yourself from giggling, “Like Motley fucking Crue.”

He lunged forward, grabbing you by the waist and spinning you around, laughter filling the house before setting you down with his face inches from yours, his bruised eyes finally brightening with manic hope.

"We're getting out," he whispered, a grin spreading across his face.

“Yes, Eddie,” you kissed him, “we’re getting the hell out of Hawkins, together.

End of Part 6

comment to be tagged in the epilogue

reblogging is a writers best friend

“so let me see if we got it right, Lady Stratts family died of flu, no will or heir to be found” Rocky said still trying to process everything, I sigh turning from my head from the window of the carriage to him and Adrian who were sitting at the other side

“yes”

“she found not only bank statements but also letters stating that you were the bastard child of the late lord Stratt”

“correct”

“so Lady Stratt basically blackmail you into accepting your new role by breaking a glass vase, all because you were the closest thing to an heir for fear of what would happen if no heir was found”

“yes, you got it all right, just like the last five times” against my better judgment I decided not to tell them that the papers were forged, or that Eva was willing to do anything to them just for me to accepted, thats a secret that im willing to take to my grave

“Are you sure you want to present yourself in society? It's only been a few weeks and all of this is a lot to digest” Adrian was worried for me, for both of us, it was all written in their face, I sigh, readjusting my glasses for like the fifth time since we got into the carriage, I don't really know if I'm able to respond that truthfully, at this point we cannot just return and hide, it's already too late for that, the ton will make a fuss about the suddenly disappearance of society of the new lord in town, besides I don't want any more drama with Stratt

“well the only condition Eva is putting on me is that I must find a wife by the end of the season” my response only seems to agitate the couple more, this past weeks have been a haze in my mind, between the modiste, classes of protocol and dance lessons that went terrible wrong i still have yet to confirm with myself if I'm okay with everything that has been happening that I think I might have omitted that part to them

“wait, that's only six months, there is no way you can fall of someone in that short amount of time” Rocky’s voice sounded confused, the concept of a marriage base in basically nothing but a formality is a really foreign concept for Eridians whose the entirety of their social structure is based in trust and and deep bonds that can only be achieved with time

“thats the thing Rocky, Society here doesn't work the way it is back at home, here a love match base in something like friendship is the exception rather than the norm” the puzzle expression in his face made me regret my decision on talking about it

“what is the norm then?” his voice was filled with a mix of curiosity, confusion and even a hint of dread  

“Stability, political power, money, arrangements between families, the list goes on” Adrian says in a quiet voice, for someone who’s not from here, they seems to be catching society norms fairly quickly and adjusting to this change really wellbeing the only inconvenience that they now have to wear more feminine clothing in public and get used to the feminine pronouns

“yeah, I feel bad for this ladies, they just want to survive in a world where they are been seen as merely objects” I added, I still remember all my students, how must of the ladies I have given class weren't really thrilled by the idea of marriage, and those who were, were most interested in the idea of being in society, not really the marriage part

“thats horrible” Rocky said after a few moments of quiet, Adrian took his hand giving it a squeeze of reassurance, their way to said that everything will be alright

“at least you two can enjoy the parties without all of this drama, since you are a married couple” I tried to lighten the mood, and it is true, married couples don't really have to follow the unspoken rules of this parties, they can eat and drink whatever they want, dance with each other all they like, even have a private moment without it turning into a scandal  

The quiet didn't really felt comfortable, on the contrary, it felt so thick you could cut it with a knife, “Well, with all of that said, we need to find someone who is right for you, do you have anything in mind? some preferences in hobbies or something like that?” Adrian again tried to light up the mood 

“I really haven't thought about it, maybe a marriage for convenience would be for the best” I admitted, I never thought of marriage before, I wanted to focus on my studies, and even now the idea of it is really unsettling for me, besides, who would have wanted to be with a tutor

“you are not talking seriously brother” now that's the Rocky that I know and love, his tone was serious with annoyance more than worrying, so I take that as a win, Adrian on the other hand was giggling at my response, shaking their head with their eyes close

“Marriage for convenience is not the end of the world, if not, is the best arrangement, I will find someone who doesn't mind me going on my travels and who is fine staying doing all of whatever people do in society, is a win win situation for all” I explain trying to convince myself more than him, my answer must have let him satisfied cause he didnt push it after that

“if that's what you want I guess, I just think everyone deserves a chance to experience love” he said under his breath, barely understandable, even if he doesn't admitted, I can see the way Adrian brings the best of him, I wonder if I can find someone like that, or at least someone who doesn't hate me

“I already made peace with that” for once, I want this lie to sound more believable, I want to believe in it

We arrived at the Hastings house on time, the party was just starting, we were actually one of the last to arrive.

I gave my invitation to the footman who had the list, who looked at me then to my friend who were behind me, I gave a simple nod and we were let in.

The ballroom was beautiful, chandeliers in every room, about a thousand of candles in every room, people were already dancing to the music, people gathering all around and talking, all of the ladies had dresses that were sparkling like clusters of stars in the night sky, the amount of jewelry in them symbolizes their status and wealth, Adrian themselves were using one of the tiaras and earrings of the Stratt family.

It wasn't long until one of the people in a crowd noticed us and suddenly everyone started to talk, whisper to be more exact, someone must have recognized the family emblem in my cufflinks and knew who I was, I could hear someone said something along the lines of “is the new Marquess of Mary” 

Next thing I knew I was surrounded by the mamas who were all trying to present their daughters to me, Rocky and Adrian were pushed to the side, I pointed to one of the side rooms and they gave me a thumbs up, the interaction lasted less than ten seconds when another mama blocked my view and presented her daughter to me, it was so overwhelming, I couldn't do anything but to smile nervously and try to say hi, I couldn't really understand anything anyone was saying; that was until I feel someone grabbing me by the arm and pulled me away

“Sorry ladies but the Marquess has already promised me the next dance” said the lady who pulled me aside, I turn to see her and I recognized her immediately

“lady Ilyukhina” I said with a smile of relief, I composed myself as we start to walk away from the pack of mamas 

“they move like hyenas, they see you alone and they jump to attack” she said in a whisper like voice, still attached to my arm, we arrived to a side room with less people and she let go of me

“Mr Ryland Grace oh my apology, Lord Ryland Grace, its surely has been a while since we last saw each other” she said with a smile, she bowed slightly

“almost six years since since I teach your brother and you to be exact” I said already feeling more relaxed

“so you still remember that” the way she said it make it feel more like a statement than a question

“how could I forget the massive tantrum you throw when your mother told you you will be debuting and you needed to take etiquette classes, you were one of my best students" 

“and after all this time you still remember me” 

“Well it's not everyday you teach a russian noble, so tell me how is Society treating you since last time we spoke?” we began to walk to a table with drinks, I took one and took a sip from it, alcohol

“It’s been tolerable, the parties are good, gossip is decent enough and after four years in the marriage mart with no prospects I can finally say I'm on the shelf” 

“Is that so? well I’m surprise, you are one of the richest girls in the ton, not to mention you are really smart, I always assume you would have men all over you”

“if I didnt knew you My Lord I would assume you are trying to flirt with me, you see, Society is not ready for people like us, intelligent minds who want to make a change, but is alright, is not that Im really eager to marry”

“so Im assuming you already have plans for the end of this season”

“your assumptions are correct my lord, if I still have no marriage proposal by the end of the season I will be returning to my motherland Russia and prepare myself to be a governess, for you see my brother has recently welcome his first daughter to the world and he wants me to prepare her, his going to be giving me a pretty good salary and I will be living with my dear friend Annia so its a win win situation for everyone”

“I’m glad that you got everything figured out, I didn't know you were one fond of teaching”

“actually I had to thank you for that, if it weren't because you were my brother's teacher and if it weren't that you tutor me even though it wasn't really accepted by the eyes of the ton, I wouldn't have discovered my true passions for learning and discovering new things”

“I just did my job” I shrug while looking at her, still I cannot believe that doing something so simple as tutoring someone else's sister could really leave that deep of a mark

“you did more than that my lord, you helped my family enter into this society when everyone looked down on us, nobody wanted to tutor the weird alien russians, but then you came along and, it really left a mark on us, you helped us more than you realize, so if you ever need anything, just let me know”

“well, thanks its good to know that I have someone in this society on my side” I take another sip of my drink, ‘wait a minute, this may be a good opportunity’ I think to myself

“now that you mention it, I’m actually looking for a wife and-”

“Im not marrying you my lord if that's what you intend” she interrupted me, I looked at her with a mortified face, my face burning at the thought of that, I never considered that, if anything I see her more like a sister

“No, of course not, that's not- ” I sighed she just started laughing at me, she got me, I took the final sip to my drink, the glasses were so tiny, I think I'm gonna need a lot more of alcohol if I wanted to survive the night

“I, know your heart belongs to your family and your dear Annia, it's just, I don't know anything about all of … this” I wave my arms around me and looked around

“and honestly after the way I got ambushed by all of those mamas and their daughters, I don't know if I can be able to survive tonight let alone the season” she laughed again, her laughter was not in a mockery way, it was more in the ‘Im going to help you but first let me make fun of your situation’ kinda laugh

“yeah, mamas can be scary sometimes, so you're asking me to be your tutor in this mess that is the marriage mart, correct?” I nodded kinda shyly, the teacher become the student, how curious destiny can be 

“If you put it that way then yes, even if it's just the basics, who are the eligible ones, a little about them, I totally forgot about the presentation party” presentation day was the same day I arrived, at least I didn't arrive mid season with only weeks to fulfill Stratts strange request

“ah, I see, you want me to play matchmaker, I can do that, come with me, is better not to stand around for so long, the walls of the ton have ears in all places” she said looking discreetly at the staff, in the background two maids were talking and laughing at each other

we returned at the main hall, people were engaged in conversation, I could overheard some lady talking about her watercolors, other gentleman talking about some business and the last just gossiping who was with who, it felt crowded, even though we were moving through the very back of the room in those little hallways that divided the main room with the glass windows

“now before I introduced you to the marriageable ladies of this season I must explain a little about what to expect”

“when the ladies are presented to society and is their first season they are called a debutant, now marrying someone in your first season is not the norm, it is not unheard of but it not common, marring in your second season is the standard by many, if you are in your third season however you’re basically fighting for scraps, if you’re still single by the mid season you’re as good as a spinster, four year and forward?”

"You are on the shelve” I responded, paying attention to where she was looking, In the dancefloor at the very end I can see Adrian and Rocky dancing, Rocky had that expression he had when Adrian opened the door to reveal themselves in that same dress hours before, like he was seeing an angel, so in love, even after years of marriage, they never stopped loving each other, I wonder if with time I could learn to love my wife or if she would ever love me 

“correct and they are called spinsters, that's the nightmare of every single lady of the ton, that's why they will act on any and every opportunity they have to marry”

“now before the ladies, you need to recognize some people, that over there” she pointed at the couple who was talking so freely to an older lady dressed in a cold violet dress

“the Duke and Duchess of Hastings, Simon and Daphne, the host of tonight's party, Daphne was actually a Bridgerton before marrying the duke, the Bridgertons are a very important family but I would not recommend getting intimate with, they are always involved in some scandal, entertaining to watch but a nightmare when you are involved, and I know my lord that you would like to stay out of it, but I would recommend to have them on their good side” 

“ok, be polite, dont get involved with them, noted” 

“now about the eligible ladies here tonight-” my eyes wonder around the room when I saw her, the most beautiful green dress I have ever seen, even though it was clearly more simple than the rest of the dresses in the room, her beautiful her was adorned by a simple yet elegant tiara with a simple aquamarine, stone, she had a lemonade in her hand, and she looked like she was waiting, would it be good to approach?

“You like her, don't you, my lord?” she looked at her, then at me with a teasing smile 

“she has pretty eyes” I said not wanting to take my eyes from her, it was like watching a star shining in the night, she herself could opaque all of those pretentious ladies who cover themselves in jewelry in order to look more beautiful, for she was beauty herself

“her name is (Y/N) Lastname, is a shame her situation let her to be a wallflower, she is really pretty and from what I have gather, she is a really nice person” I listen carefully for any details of her, if destiny allowed me to have something for myself, I would want it to be the heart of that lady

“How so? the season just started, there is no way they already got that exile from society” I said, now curious to know what kind of torments would a gem like her would have her confined to the wall, instead of being at the center of the ballroom where she clearly belongs

“her father the Baron of Dumas is really sick, and with no male heir the only way to protect her future is getting married, it doesn't help the fact that her dowry is only four digits, it is rumored that her father lost more than half of it in a gamble, because of his father gambling addiction her debut had been postponed for more than it is acceptable, so is the oldest of all the debutants and in society eyes that means you are as good as a spinster”

“well that isn't really that bad” ‘she actually looks my age, it's better than to marry some twenty year old’ i thought to myself if I didnt knew better, i could said the stars were aligning for me, although I would get my hope up, I learn that not everything good last forever

“yeah but its not only her age the problem in the eyes of society, if what the others said is true, she does not know piano forte or the harp, she doesn't do any type of needle work and the guys said that her interests are, peculiar to say the least”

“why?” 

“they said she is interested in things no women should be, you know, science, maths, the stars, its even rumored that she managed his fathers affairs while they were in Scotland”

“really? well, that shouldn't be a problem at all, if not I think it's even better” even if she is not as wheatley as the other ladies in the room, the level of knowledge she possessed makes her an exquisite gem, any man who won't see that is a fool

“Noble men want a lady whose only duty is to look good by his side, attend to social events, have babies and stay quiet, they are not looking for an intellectual equal, if anything they feel threatened by her” I watch her trying to approach a group of other debutands just to be told something and be left alone again, this might be my only chance

“I want to approach her but, I don't know what to do, what to talk about” for the first time since I first saw her, my face turn to Ilyukhina, who had a smile in her face 

“why don't you ask her for a dance if I recall correctly you're good in the quadrille” she is not entirely wrong, the only thing is that is the only dance I knew comfortably enough to not be looking at my feet all the time 

“should I just approach her? we haven't really been introduced yet, is that still being used?” the rules for courting are always changing, I saw in the distance various interactions happening, some have introductions, others don’t, I really don’t want to give a negative impression, not on her

“I can help with that, I will meet you at the dessert table over there, I need to look for her mother” she pointed to a table at the end of the salon, I nodded and she gave a thumbs up

“you are a life saver” I said, she smiled back and gave me a reassuring nod

“don't mess this up” she said, then turned around and started heading towards the direction of a group of mamas, I quickly went to the table she pointed at, Rocky and Adrian were already there waiting for me

“Rocky quick, tell me how do I court?” I said desperate, grabbing him by the shoulders, my face must have been one of pure stress cause he didn’t even question me or tried to calm me down

“Try talking about her hobbies or searching for something you have in common, why?” he said confused Adrian looked behind me and cough twice, a sign we developed when someone was approaching, a subtle way to tell each other ‘act normally there is someone behind’

“I will explain it later” I said in a more quiet voice then turned around to see Ilyukhina approaching with (Last name) and who could I only assume was her mother, I smiled and took a deep breath, trying to control the wave of nerves that was suddenly hitting me

“My lord, let me introduce you to Miss (Last name) daughter of the Baron of Dumas” Ilyukhina said with excitement in her voice, she bowed when presented and I did the same, she offered her right hand rather shyly, looking at me with a soft smile

“It is a pleasure to meet you My Lord” I took her hand and kissed it, her gloves smelled like pure vanilla, her voice was smooth, I didn't want to let go of her, but I don't really want to leave a bad impression, not in front of her family

“My lady, please, you must let me have the next dance with you” she smiled shyly and extended her hand to me, the card and the little pencil dangling from her wrist, I quickly took it and wrote my name on it 

they soon announced the next dance and I escort her into the dancefloor, the music soon started, quickly getting the hand of the dance, I looked at her eyes, even if I wanted to just admire her I need to make a move

“if you don't mind me asking, please tell me about yourself” I asked with a smile on my face, was that to direct? i don't know, is not that I could talk about the weather, maybe I should have started with small conversation, but again that would leave to nothing

“well, my lord if you must know, I excel in my studies of Latin and Greek, I like to read and from time to time I like to indulge myself in some poetry” so she likes learning ok, good to know 

“any hobbies or interests you may have?”

“unfortunately no My Lord, since my father illness I have been the one attending some other more important matters” wow, she is open about it, well at least she is not lying to make herself more eligible, I like that

“Well, if you wanted to indulge yourself in anything of your liking, what would it be?” I asked intrigue, maybe I could give her that happiness if she wanted to, wait what am I thinking? I don't even know her, focus

“since you asked so nicely My Lord, I would love to increase my knowledge in subjects like mathematics about the stars” that's lovely if I didn't have any more reasons to fall of her, but maybe, just maybe

“mathematics? well thats interesting, I didnt know a lady like you could be interested in such boring subjects” I let a loose smile looking at her not realizing the tone of how my words landed

“oh” she stopped smiling, oh no

“Is there something wrong?” I immediately looked at her with concern, her eyes were not meeting mine, after a couple seconds she looked at me again, her eyes still not meeting mine

“maybe is for the best that we stop dancing, my lord” I nodded and escorted her out of the dancefloor, her voice was now cold, and her expression serious, almost angry

“Is something troubling you? Would you like for me to go and fetch you something to drink? maybe a lemona—” she interrupted me, her tone more distressed, I could see the tears coming from her face as she snatched her hand from me

“maybe the next time you ask a lady about her interests try not to make a fool of her, you have done more than enough tonight My Lord, I shall bid you goodnight” I tried to go after her only to be stopped by Adrian who just said something along the lines of “no, let her be”

“Wait, Grace what happened?” Rocky asked genuinely concerned for me, the realization of what was happening hitted me

“I messed up”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

“Rise and shine Ryland, time to get up, you have been for long enough” Adrian entered with the maids who started to open the curtains of the room, It's more than obvious that he didn't want to be awake

“I don't want to, don't you see I'm trying to be miserable over here” he said while trying to cover himself with the bedsheets, closing his eyes, maybe if he tried hard enough he could turn invisible

“you did that yesterday all the way home, it's more than enough, instead you can get dressed, pick up some flowers and go apologize to that pretty lady you meet yesterday” she said snatching the covers off him, Rocky was watching everything unfold from the doorframe 

“I don't think she ever wanted to meet me again, and even if, I don't know anything on where to find her” 

“good thing that your friend send you this” she gave her an envelope, already knowing what the contents of the letter were

Dear Lord Stratt:

I left the direction of miss (Lastname) with your friends yesterday when you went to dance with her, I also included a list of places you may want to visit.

DO NOT MESS THIS UP

I'm rooting for you

- Lady Ilyukhina

After reading this he bolted out of bed, falling in the process,  hurrying the maids to prepare everything for his departure, he looked at the clock in the desk, if he hurry he could arrive before the calling time ends

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The morning started rather slowly. I decided to leave the ball after that encounter with the Marquess for fear of someone may have seen us. Despite everything, I don't want our reputations to be ruined by anymore gossip; all night I replayed the scene in my head, was he mad? did he truly believe saying that to a lady was a compliment? why do I even care about what he thinks, it's not like I’m going to marry him, if anything, I want him out of my sight.

The dress my mother choose for today really didn't suited how i was feeling, the beautiful and cheerful yellow was overshadowed by my melancholic expression, even as I seated myself in the drawing room with my mother reading, waiting for suitors that I know won’t arrive

“don’t worry my dear, I’m sure someone will come, and if not well, it is not uncommon to not have any suitors this early on the season” my mother tried to comfort me, seeing that hours had passed and anybody had yet to arrive, I was about to give up when the footman came announced 

“A suitor for Miss (Lastname)” listening those words from the footman made my heart flutter, and I asked myself who could it be, I prepare myself a bit, shaking the inexistent dust off my dress and looking myself in the mirror one last time before he entered to the drawing room

“oh it's you” when I saw it my heart started to beat stronger than ever, deep in my mind I thought I wanted him gone, why was he here? why am I excited? I’m supposed to be mad at him

“I wanted to come and apologise for my comment at the ball yesterday, it was never my intent to mock you, I was rather surprised by the way you talked about what you like, and I have been too stoned by your words and your beauty for me to speak my words the way I intended, but please know that my intentions are nothing but pure” the way he talked, the remorse in his eyes, he was being truthful, suddenly I don't feel mad at him anymore, if anything I feel rather ashamed for the way I reacted

“I also must apologize for the way I spoke at you yesterday, true to be told, I'm not very good at talking with people and I may have overreacted” why am I being so shy? this is not like me at all, he looked at me and suddenly, I felt a rush, so overwhelming, his eyes were like the ocean,

“Is there anything else you wish to speak My Lord?” I said almost like a whisper, as I took a step further we were still at a very considerate distance from one and other

“I was also wondering, if you want of course, to meet me at the opening of the art exhibition tomorrow?” he finally said after a few moments of silence

“of course My Lord”

“I brought you this” the bouquet in his hands had daffodils, purple hyacinths and yellow roses, clearly he was trying to express remorse and hope for a new beginning, I picked them and smelled them enjoying every second of it, I looked at him and smiled, a truthful smile

“thanks My Lord, would you like to take a seat, maybe have some tea and biscuits?"

“I would love to”

Taglist

Ryland Grace was NOT a nobleman, and he didn't want to be one, he only wanted to travel and learn all about the stars, the plants and other cultures.

He was a tutor, like his father was before him, he gave tutoring to the nobleman, Greek, Latin, botanic, Astrology, even History, and sometimes he allowed the girls to be his students too, free of charge of course, he never understood why girls couldn't learn about the same things but he didn't say anything, after all, he was only a piece in the machine of the system, he was not going to fight it, he wasn't that type of man, he enjoy it actually, he enjoy having the job of teaching the new generations all of the knowledge he had, he inherited that from his father.

Destiny however had other plans for him

It was a late night, I was making counts of the money I’ll need for my next destination, not enough, “I will have to get a job” I think to himself, while starring to list all of the possible jobs I could get, but there was a problem, language, I wasn't as fluid as I wishe, locals will not hire me, Im in troubles.

that is, until the door gets knock

“Come in” I said with a tired voice, not paying attention on who was entering the room, eyes fixed in the paper where I was doing my finances 

“Grace, a letter for you arrived” the voice was soft, I looked to see Adrian, Rocky’s spouse, holding the letter with one hand and the candle with another, their expression was soft but with a hint of worry

“what? from who? how did they find me?” now I was starting to get worry, I didn't write to anyone, how did anybody knew where I was, Adrian gave me the letter, the paper was soft, before I could look from who its was my mind noticed the insane amount of stamps around it

“It says is from Lady Stratt, and jugging from the amount of stamps they pay good money for this to make it here in record time” that's when it clicks, Eva Stratt, I knew the woman, my father tutored her kids, I even tutored the youngest of the family, she paid us well, that's why I was able to travel around the globe for the last year

“Its late, you should get some rest” I said, turning to see Adrian who just nodded and walked to the door, I smile to them, their smile was soft, but I could see the sadness in it, maybe they sensed something was wrong for me to get a message this urgent

“I could say the same to you, I don't want my husband to yell at you because you fell asleep again” we both of them giggle at the memory of Rocky scolding me for being five minutes late, even after all this time, some things never change

After Adrian left I open the letter, the writing was pristine and the paper smelled like wood and citrus, attached to that was another, smaller but fuller envelope, when I opened it I almost fall out of my chair, the insane amount of money from that envelope looked almost unreal, I quickly turn my lamp to the brightest setting it would let me and pull it closer to me, reading with attention

Dear Mr Grace

It's with a heavy heart that I write this letter, but I must hold a word with you, you were always someone I could rely on and that is why I'm asking for this favor of you, my family and state are at risk and I alone cannot fulfill the requirements the parliament had imposed me, I trust you will make the right choice

Of course you will be rewarded for this favor, as a token of my sincerity, please accept this money for your return.

Write me as soon as you get the letter

-Lady Stratt, Marchioness of Hail Mary

This couldn't be, I re-read the letter five times, this must be a trap, surely, but again, Stratt had that handwriting and signature that nobody could forge, the wax emblem in the smaller envelope didn't help, from what I could get, it sounded like Eva needed to have a baby, but, she has a husband and four children, two of them boys, he knew that, I tutored them, I knew from a friend that she couldn't have more children after her last pregnancy, non of this make sense

But she must be really desperate if she is willing to waste this insane amount of money on me. I sighed as I pulled one piece of paper from one of the drawers of the desk and started to write my response, I just hope I'm not getting myself into more trouble.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

“My apologies for the delay, I needed to send some correspondence” I said as I entered the drawing room, it was five minutes past noon and I was already running late to our daily scientific study session, it was a tradition that we developed, every day after tea we get together in the drawing room and worked on something, Rocky usually was sketching some new machine, Adrian playing piano or the harp meanwhile I worked on a translation of a botanic book for Rocky and Adrian for them to use after I leave 

“nonsense my friend, Adrian told me about the letter yesterday, I just hope everything is good back at home” Rocky said leaving his sketches on the table and guiding me to take my usual seat, for him to be this forgiving about a delay must be really worried about the content of the letter

“that is part of the reason why I'm late, I stayed up finishing the manuscript, I just needed you and Adrian to check if there is any mistakes before I leave” after those words left my mouth Adrian stopped playing abruptly, the silence falling once again

“leave?” Rocky said with a mix of shock and sadness, I didn't want to leave but again, I feel really bad for basically accepting a bribe 

“yeah, Lady Stratt, a friend of my father needs my help and it sounds like it's something serious since she send me a lot of money to catch the next boat, although I don't really know how can I be of any help” I wasn't playing with the manuscript at this point, I feel bad leaving them so abruptly after everything they have done for me

“well, that is something we cannot ignore, Adrian, tell the housekeeper to start packing our stuff” Adrian took the manuscript from my hands and left the room almost running, the house was not that big but still, I could sense the urgency in the way they run, as if this was an already made decision

“wait, you don't have to come with me, it's alright if you want to stay, I can go on my own” I said, trying to calm my friend who was already leaving the room, ready to plan this as if was a new adventure and not a desperate favor from someone I haven't seen in years, he just turn around and grab me by the shoulders

“Grace, my friend, if it wasn't for you I would be dead, you save me from that fire, not only that but you save Adrian and all of the people here in Erid from that sickness, if it's in our power, we will help you or your friend, is the least we can do, you are not alone anymore, remember that” those words got to me, I didn't realize when I started crying, I just knew it the moment the tears reached me cheeks, I let out a sigh of relief with what I can only describe as a pitiful smile, Rocky then in a simple but carrying way hug me, he wasn't the type of physical touch, so when it was given, I knew it was special

And just like that, we sail to England the week after

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Arriving to England wasn't that bad, the staff of the Stratt family was already expecting us, obviously I had to write to Lady Stratt asking her to prepare an extra room for my family, even if Rocky doesn't admitting I know he cares for me like a brother, in the two years we had known each other, after everything we experienced, it would be cruel not to think of him and Adrian as my only family.

We arrived at the Stratt mansion on Tau Ceti Hall, the heart of society, I knew my way around it. I grew up entering this mansions that they call home. Although I usually used the entrance for the service, I wasn't used to going through the main door.

The welcoming was rather unusual, all of the main staff were already at the main entrance expecting our arrival, this type of greeting was usually reserved for the welcoming of the new members of the family or when someone was moving, I used to do this type of greetings when the Stratt family returned from the countryside, this was a subtle reminder of the power dynamics in the house, this was not for a simple tutor like myself.

There were a couple of faces I recognized from my time here, like Carl the footman and Annie, the main housekeeper, who was the one welcoming us after months of travel. She presented us to all of the heads of the staff before we entered the house; the place hasn't changed much since last time I was here, I quickly realized that all of the mirrors were covered in black organza, someone had died recently, I already assumed that from the letter but seeing it felt almost surreal

“My lord, Lady Stratt is expecting you in the study” Annie said to me in a quiet voice, it felt almost like a whisper, like if they weren't allowed to talk, normal protocol for the mourning period, ‘my lord’ those words strike me, she never referred to me that way, it was always Mr Grace, something is clearly wrong

“thanks Annie, in the meantime why don't you show around my brother and sister around, they must be exhausted after the long journey” Annie bowed and started to talk to Adrian and Rocky, I didn't want to explain all the logistics to the staff, so saying they are my family seems to be the best alternative for now, I know they are in good hands, Annie was always good to me

A maid guided me to the study, as we walked through the halls the situation was getting to me. All of the paintings of the family were covered in the same black organza, I didn't want to assume the worst but it was getting harder to ignore every step we took. 

We arrived at the studio and suddenly the atmosphere became colder, maybe are my nerves, this place was always gloomy but seeing it in this state, it felt like a nightmare; after the door closed behind me I saw her, her red hair up in a bun adorned with a veil, she was covered head to toe in mourning black, she was looking at the window when I arrived

“Lady Stratt” I gave a bow, the same I did every time we saw each other, like the one a servant would give to their lord

“Mr Grace, is a pleasure to see you again, although I wish we could meet in other circumstances”

“I assume that the tragedy that invaded the house has to do with the reason for my call. Tell me, how can I be of help?”

“Lord Stratt and my kids, they didn't make it out of the countryside”

“wha— what happened?”

“the flu, they did not survive”

“I'm so sorry”

“it's alright, it happened months ago, the pain has been manageable, but now that the period of immediate grief has passed, I have some matters to attend”

“I'm so sorry, I could never understand what you're going thru but how could I-”

“You are going to be named the new heir of the Mary state” 

“Pardon me, WHAT?!”

“My husband, late husband, didn't have a will, and with no immediate heir on his side of the family, well it is only a matter of time for the representative of the head of state starts peskying me around so I decided to take matters into my own hands” she slid a piece of paper thru the desk, when I looked it up I understood, a letter stating that I was the illegitimate son of Lord Stratt, attached to that where papers from the finance book of the family, with large withdrawals in different dates, in the details “Ryland's future” the handwriting was identical every detail, it almost made me question if my whole life was a lie, but I knew better, all of this, my family never saw a penny of that, my mother died because we couldn't afford the medicine at the time, all of this was forged 

“this, why?” I quickly did the math, all the withdrawals, the sum of money, it was the same amount she gave me in that initial letter, she planned this

“from now on you will be living here, you will be attending this season events and be married by the end of the season, you and your new wife will be returning with me to the countryside where I shall teach you how to run the state, a pension is already planned for me, you just need to sign the paperwork after you claim your title, after that you will be taking permanent residence here in the main house and I will be returning to my apartment in Scotland” she said with such a calm voice I couldn't believe it, it didn't sound like the wife who recently lost everything, this was the voice of someone who spent time calculating every single detail to perfection

“I understand that, but why me? Why not choose anyone else? Everyone in the ton knows Im just a tutor” I was still in disbelief looking at all of the papers in the desk 

“you basically were raised here alongside my children, it's not uncommon for bastard children to be raised with other people and to take professions that can be required to be in the house, besides, look at yourself, you look exactly like my late husband when he was young, nobody will question it, besides, nobody in the ton remembers a tutor”

“I can't, I'm sorry but I cannot accept this, you know passing as a noble is a serious crime, I can't live a life of luxury knowing it came from a lie” 

“you will accept, that's an order” her tone was now more serious, her face slowly stated to reflect the anger, she looked like a mother scolding her child, her eyebrows were furrowed, I could see her hands grabbing her dress so tight her knuckles were white

“and what if I refuse” 

“I will have you arrested and thrown into jail for the rest of your days”

“On what grounds?” she took the vase that was on the desk, smashing it against the floor, all of the pieces of the fine glass scattered around us, I immediately  flinched from the sound, my jaw on the floor, ‘what was that for?’ I think for a second before returning my attention to Eva who was still looking at me with those eyes filled with rage, and if you paid attention, a little hint of sadness

“Robbery and destruction of valuable items of the Mary state”

“Nobody will believe you, you’re a woman” I hate myself so much for using that argument, entirely stupid, but it was the first thing it came to my mind, she looked at me, her eyes narrowed directly at me

“That's the thing about society Mr. Grace” she now was smiling, one of those subtle smiles that you see when someone is plotting, small enough to be dismissed if you weren't paying attention

“What power will the word of a man like you will hold, you have no family, no title, state, money or even a job, not to mention that you just arrived from who knows where after a year of doing who know what, if anything, you’re making yourself look worst” her tone was colder, her mouth was twitching as she spoke every word sounded like venom, she took one step after the other, stepping on the broken glass, suddenly I couldn't move, I was freeze in place, she stopped when we were around 20 centimeters apart from one and other

“maybe I'm not being clear, if you do not accept I will get your little alien friends thrown away in jail, as you said it before, posing as nobles is a serious crime” those words felt like a stab wound, she couldn't possibly do something like that, something so cruel to people she doesn't even know, but again, she was doing this to me

“you are a wicked woman” my eyes started to hurt, my vision was blurry but I couldn't cry, I couldn't give her the satisfaction of knowing she was right about Rocky and Adrian 

“So what will it be?” I sighed, she got me cornered right where she wanted me, if I was going to do this, it was going to be one my terms

“under one condition, my friends stay, no loopholes, no silver lines, anything, they are my family, and you better treat them like that, if anything happens to them I'll make sure all of this little scheme gets to the light, even if it gets me killed and the legacy of the Stratt family dies with me”

“they will be under my protection, although convincing the ton will be more difficult, I can make it happen”

“then it's a deal”

“now go get change, I need to write to the Head of state notifying him of your arrival”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Everything went according to plan, off course it went, I knew Eva always expected nothing but perfection, one look at the documents and to myself seems to do the trick, he saw my face, traces of my grief of the previous encounter still remaining, the official story was that I was in Greece visiting my aunt from my mother side when Eva herself delivered the news to me in a letter, already knowing about my existence as a bastard children, Rocky and Adrian on the other side, were put into the record as my cousin and her wife —despite knowing Adrian's preferred to remain gender neutral, a concept like that would never be accepted in this society— and that they would be under my protection and be referred to as equals at the eyes of society

After the representative left, Stratt went to get some stuff from her bedchambers only to return to the drawing room announcing her department that same night, as if she was only here doing business, she didn't looked like a women who was being thrown away from her home, but rather like a young boy freshly out of college eagerly wanting to move out of his parents property

“if you need me for any reason, I will be in my apartment at the other side of Tao Ceti Hall, I already arrange for all my belongings and the ones of my family to be stored" those were the last words I heard from her as she climbed inside of her carriage, it was smaller than the one I've arrived, she took with her two maids and her lady in waiting, all of who I didn't knew, lucky for me she didn't took any of the staff I already knew so I take it as a win

So here I am now, alone in my new drawing room in a house I haven't visited in years, well technically is now my house, I'm still trying to process everything that happened today.

Annie suddenly appeared with some tea and biscuits, even after all this time she remembered what type of tea I preferred

“Your belongings are already in your new chambers and I took the liberty of moving the belongings you left from where you were a tutor in the house, is there anything I can do for you my lord?”

“Annie, please drop the formalities when we aren't with company, we known each other from way to long” at this point my voice sounds more tired that what I wanted, I'm not used to be treated this way

“sorry, I didn't mean to sound rude, I, it's just that- it's been a long day, thats all” I took my glasses off, rubbing my hands against my face, trying to calm myself, after starting at the chandelier in the ceiling I became hyper aware of my surroundings, the drawing room became quiet, too quiet for my liking, the silence was so overwhelming

“Where are my brother and sister?” I turn to asked Annie, who was just a couple of meters away from me, waiting for some new instructions or a command

“Carl thought it would be good for them if they went and have a stroll around the park and the market, keep them distracted from all of this, we all agree it was the best idea” she said in a quiet voice, guilt spilled in every word she said

“you all knew about this?” the realization hit me, they all treated me not as an equal but as if I was above them because they knew

“if it brings you any comfort my lord, we didn't knew she would threaten you or your family, you are a honorable man, we all know it” her face reflected the agony not from an accomplice but from a victim of this sick twisted game

“It’s alright, as long as none of you go around spreading this around” I said with a reassuring smile putting my glasses on again and taking another sip of tea

“Only Carl and I know about this, the rest of the staff were given the same story as everyone else”

“Well is good to know” I took another bite of my biscuit when I heard the carriage arrive and the maids moving, my wishes were granted, Rocky and Adrian were finally home, it's at this moment that it really hits me, I'm not alone anymore

They entered the drawing room telling me all about their day, all of the things they did, Adrian had the most wonderful smile after seeing all the beautiful dresses of the ladies at the park, Rocky was just excited that his partner was happy even if it was for a “simple piece of clothing” as he said it, it's good to have some sense of familiarity in all of this chaos, it helped me in a way to calm my nerves, although I still don't know how am I going to explain the current situation

“So, is your friend going to be joining us for tea?” Rocky said while admiring the intricate pieces of the watch in the table next to him, clearly trying to hide his curiosity about our “host” 

“she just left for her apartment at the other side of town” I said as Annie entered the room and served tea to my little family, Adrian thanking her as she leave to return to her usual spot

“Wait, we thought this was her residency, is it not?" 

“about that-” one of the maids entered the room in a frenzy, Carl followed after her as if him trying to stop her, failing his attempt to be more subtle, they whispered something something to Annie, expressions clearly worried, Annie’s expression also changed to one clearly modified 

“Is there something wrong?” I stood up with a worrying expression, the last thing I wanted was more drama or any sort of conflict, especially now that I was just starting to accept my current situation, I glanced and looked at Rocky and Adrian, clearly they were more in the dark than me, their expressions worried me more, incertitude, I needed to explain everything, but first I needed to make sure nothing more happened in this house

“you my want to read this my lord” Annie handed me a pamphlet, Lady Whistledown society paper, I began to read, nothing more than a gossip column, but this one was different, it had names, complete names, not just letters or nicknames, one of the sections took me by surprise

dearest gentle reader:

It is said that any plant can bloom in the right soil; this author believes that is not the soil that makes a plant grow but the resilience of the plant to survive, and so, with the season finally starting, dear reader, this author hopes that the new debutants have the same resilience and find a good match in this race to see who gets the best spotlight in the greenhouse we known as society; for this season is certainly is going to be an interesting one, for you see, dear reader, this author learned that the new Marquess of Mary, an eccentric and handsome gentleman, has just arrived to town in search for a wife and is expected to be at the opening ball of the season, certainly, this author is intrigued if the new Marquess will go for the safest choice and marry the diamond or if he would go and look for other gemstones, more valuable and rare like an emerald perhaps.

To all the debutants and the mamas, better sharp your knowledge, for the new marquess is said to be a man who appreciates knowledge before looks

To the Marquess, best of luck learning about our society and all of the intricate details, I'm sure you won't let us down

let the lesson begin

- Lady Whistledown

“that wicked witch” I said under my breath, reading the pamphlet again and again, Rocky ended up taking it from my hands and reading it, Adrian followed him, reading it over his shoulder if was is what Stratt wanted, was shall she get, I was not going down without a fight

“Annie, assign Adrian a lady in waiting and prepare the carriage, we need to make haste if we want to catch the modiste in a good mood” I said my tone clearly serious, everyone in the room already moving Rocky and Adrian were still standing in place

“Grace, what are you talking about?”

“well, you will need a lot of proper attire for the season, same goes to you Rocky” I turn around to see them both with a smile, already plotting my next move

“attire for what? Ryland what's going on?” the maids were already returning with our coats 

“the season is about to start and we need to surpass the expectatives of everyone”

Taglist

@aureolinb @lastminutescience @spork-himbo @caitsymichelle13 @koh-lo-go27

It’s something of a habit of yours to check your markings constantly as if you still need to make sure they are there. The map that leads you to them. Maybe it's just silliness or anxiety. After all, it is a universally accepted rule of the universe and fate is always kind in this regard. The only reason two soulmates may not meet is death, and in that scenario, the marking disappears.

So, you know without worry or doubt that your fated other half will be here waiting.

The location is one you've known for years, a beautiful flourishing park in San Francisco. It's a lovely spot, with vibrant flowers and trees with roots sunk deep into the ground. The kind of place so perfect that people choose to propose, and some eventually marry. There's a gorgeous fountain in the middle of it you've been to several times. 

People say it's bad luck to visit your soulmate location before the given time and date, but many times you have allowed yourself that indulgence. You have sat at that fountain and imagined the day they would be here, waiting for you. Will they bring flowers? Chocolate? Or maybe do what your father did for your mother and arrange an orchestra (A bit over the top... maybe, but she loved it.)

Either way, as your body moves a little too fast through the gate of the park, you know with every part of your being life is about to truly begin. 

It is only a few minutes until the fated time and as you look around the picturesque location that practically screams romance, you try to spot them. Someone, anyone, around looking as happy and thrilled as you.

Strangely enough, the park seems to be empty today, which is quite odd since it is always full of life with families, friends, pets, and all sorts of activities happening. Maybe fate had something to do with it? As if this is supposed to be a moment just for the two of you though that sounds a bit much even to you.

Even stranger, as you approach the massive fountain in the middle of the park that you always dreamed your lover would be in front of, you are confronted with a peculiar and somewhat concerning visual.

There are people standing around, but they don't fit in at all.

Official looking people, the type you would see in a government building or maybe in a spy movie. The one that sticks out is a woman with long faded red hair and a neutral expression. There's a small silver tablet tucked into her side. She and the others around her are all appraising you, as if they have been waiting for you.

What is happening? You look through the crowd of faces, you see no happiness or bliss. None of them are your soulmate of which you are certain. 

You're frozen, your hands clutching the green cross body you wear as your eyes frantically look around trying to find them. 

Everyone has always told you that the minute you see them, you will be overcome with feelings of overpowering happiness and love. Some people cry, others fall to their knees, the stories of romantic reactions are endless.

Yet, as you continue to struggle to find them a devastating thought surfaces in your mind.

Are they not here? No, they have to be here. Surely, all these years they have been thinking of you as you have them. That's how the world works, it never occurred to you to expect anything else. You'll get your happy ending, right? 

If that isn't correct, then...

Before you can spiral further, the mysterious woman takes a step towards you and speaks.

"My name is Ava Stratt and I work for the government. I have some important information that I believe pertains to you. May I please have your full name?”

Your voice is meek and you are afraid, but you quietly say your name.

"Noted. Now, may I please see your wrist to confirm your identity?"

"Confirm my identity… what? Excuse me?"

"Your wrist, please."

You don't know what's going on, but her voice doesn't leave much room for argument, and you just want to know what is going on here, so you hesitantly stretch your arm out enough for her to see.

She inspects it with narrowed eyes and then looks at a man behind her who is holding what appears to be a photo that you can't see. He nods and she looks back at you as if something is now confirmed.

"Alright, I apologize for the formality and I know you must be confused, there is a lot to discuss. So, it would be best if you came with us back to a secure facility."

"Huh? No! What is even going on here? I'm here to meet my soulmate, I don't know what all you people are doing here, but this is not..." you struggle to speak, your mind races. "Today is my day to meet my soulmate, please leave me alone. They're looking for me.” 

Ava takes a deep breath then, as if being forced to say something that causes her deep discomfort.

"I know this will be incredibly difficult to hear and I am deeply sorry, but he is in fact not looking for you nor will you find him.”

He? Your soulmate is a he and he's not… coming?

“Wha— Why would you say that?”

“I can explain more at a later time, we have prepared the information in an organized manner—”

“No!” Your voice seems especially loud in the deserted park, all of your patience now falling to the wayside in the wake of this impossible situation. “You will tell me what is going on now! Where is my soulmate? Why are you here trying to take me away? I'm not going anywhere. I'm waiting here for them.”

You're rambling at this point, your fingers balled into fists, but your eyes are resolute. You mean what you're saying. The only way you leave this park is if you're kicking and screaming.

The woman releases a heavy sigh and simply says, “Alright, but I suggest you sit down. You're already in an emotional state and what I have to explain won't be easy.”

You don't like it. You decide right then and there you don't like her either, but you agree that sitting down may be best. So you do.

Thankfully, the fountain is surrounded by simple benches and as you find a spot, the woman follows behind you, sitting as far from you as she can. It takes a moment as if she is rehearsing the words in her brain, but eventually she opens her mouth and begins. 

“This is complicated and I'm sure you will have questions, but please try to be patient... Firstly, your soulmate's name is Ryland Grace. He is a molecular biologist that was recruited for the Hail Mary Mission. Perhaps you have some awareness of him?”

“Ryland… Grace,” you whisper, "tasting your soulmate's name on your lips for the first time. “Yes, obviously, he’s my…”

Of course, you know that name. Everyone knows that name. He's one of the astronauts that went on a one way mission to space aboard the Hail Mary. Only a year ago, the probes that held the secret to saving life on Earth had landed and the world rejoiced. Ryland literally saved Earth and found the solution to stop the sun’s dimming. 

“Judging by your reaction, I am going to take that as a yes. I made a promise to him on the allotted date and time; I would be here to inform you of his absence. We would have found you sooner, but such is fate's way.”

“But Ryland is... the astronauts never… returned from that mission.” You say the words slow as if your brain is still processing, still taking the time to protect you from what that means. 

So, he really is not coming–ever. Oh god.

“Yes, which is why I'm here instead. He sent some messages for you–many–actually and was adamant you get to view them.”

“Messages for me... all the way from space?” 

“Yes, that is why we want to take you to a secure facility. We have set up a proper viewing area and there is certain… classified information on the files that prevent them from simply being given to you.”

“Wait, no can't I at least see some of the messages now?”

“I'm sorry – That would not be wise.”

“Please,” you beg. “Miss Stratt I've waited my whole life for this moment. You've just told me my soulmate whom I love with every piece of me is no longer on this planet. I've dreamed of this day for years… Please give me… something.”

Stratt purses her lips in displeasure, but relents.

“Fine. I will show you one of the messages, but for the rest you must come with me. Is this understood?”

You nod vehemently.

Stratt places the tablet she was holding on her lap and starts taping away before handing it to you. 

"We have categorized every message he left for you. This is the first of many. I'll give you some privacy."

You watch as she walks back over to her people and then gaze down at the tablet in your hands which are visibly shaking. 

The screen is open on what seems to be some type of video log. It's paused, but it shows Ryland sitting down with his face close to the camera. You’ve seen him many times before, but have never really looked. It’s like seeing the sun for the first time, the pull you have towards him is magnetic, even through this virtual medium.

Without thinking about it, you reach out and brush your fingers over the screen, as if you could somehow reach him through it.

Ryland looks devastatingly handsome and your eyes rove over every inch of his face as if trying to commit him to memory. His hair is cut short, like in many of the photos you've seen of him, but his blue eyes are different---tired as if he has seen too much. Ryland has deep blue eyes covered by golden rim glasses that look adorable on him. You can only see some of his chest, but he’s wearing some blue shirt with a science pun.

He is perfect, everything you could have ever imagined and your heart breaks that this is your first… "meeting."

Taking a deep breath, you mentally prepare yourself–as much as one possibly could in this situation–before slowly clicking play.

[Video Log 1]

Hello, my name is Ryland Grace and umm I’m your soulmate, believe it or not. I’m going to assume that if you’re getting this message, it's because someone has talked to you and explained the... utter insanity of my situation. I'll still give you the quick rundown for my own sake.

So, I happened to become the baby daddy of astrophage, helped get a mission going to save the planet, and uhm ended up going on that mission against my will. Suffice to say, I'm not really ideal relationship material at the moment.

It’s been a rough few weeks–definitely not anything I had in my five-year plan–but my memories have started coming back at least. 

Unfortunately, I don't have any memories of you because we never got the chance to meet. We never will... God, I wish I had memories of you. 

Sometimes when I dream though, I know it's of you, I can feel it, but I never see your face, just this… sense of overwhelming love. Then I wake up and I'm trapped in a fudging metal box again. But it keeps me going even when I’m devastated at the realization that I’ll never get to see you, which feels like all of the time.

I’m sorry about that by the way? The words 'I'm sorry' can't even begin to cover how... apologetic and guilty I feel about that. You’re probably so disappointed right now. I mean I’ve disappointed a lot of people in my life… Uhm, you’ll find out that I had interesting theories about water and life that I ironically helped disprove, but I never thought you would be someone I’d disappoint. 

You'll give me some grace though, right? You’re my soulmate, after all, you’re hard wired to love me. This might seem cynical, but for years I didn’t believe that. I always wondered if it was really true, I mean I’m a man of science, yet I’m supposed to believe the universe is busy making sure people have other halves? It sounds ridiculous. Yet, the proof is engraved on my wrist and all around me.

Actually, when I found out the sun was dimming and that the planet was pretty much going to go to shit in a few years… You were my first thought. The planet that my soulmate lives on is going to be uninhabitable. I wondered what you thought about it and if you were scared. I hated that.

Maybe that’s the reason why I helped Stratt in the first place. Sure, it was exciting at first as a scientist and I wanted to help save humanity, but uhh I knew if I didn’t help there wouldn’t be a world for us.

Sorry, this has gone on pretty long, I don’t really have anyone to talk to out here and I like to think you wouldn't mind listening. But, I guess I’ll just end this by saying I love you, I’m sorry, and uhh I hope it's enough to know that I was on earth and I did want you.

If I had the choice, I’d still be with you. The day we met would have been one of the happiest of our lives. I planned to give you a ring, big swing—I know. It would have been the first meeting, but I just figured we would both just be ready for that. It wouldn't have been in a 'golly lets hop down to the court house' type a way more a... You're my soulmate and here's something that signifies how wholly in love with you I am.

Oh, fiddlesticks, I’m starting to cry, I really don’t want to cry again. Wow, this is getting depressing and I should probably be focusing on saving the planet, so let's wrap it up! 

Ah, by the way...  there are some videos of me online... 

College days... I wouldn’t look at them; I tended to not use my head too much then. Peer pressure was a bad influence on me and I may have woken up naked on a lawn wearing lab goggles once. Not great experience wise.

Anywhoo, I love you, Grace out.

You’re not sure when the tears first began falling down your face. Maybe it was at the start of the video when you heard his voice for the first time. Maybe it was when he talked about having no memories of you. Maybe it was when he said 'I love you' for the first time. Or perhaps it was at the end when you realized how real this is and how fucked up.

The sobs rack through your body as grief grips your heart tightly like a vice. So much sadness has washed over you like an ocean at full tide and it’s all you can do to clutch the tablet in your hands. This is your soulmate? This is what you’re missing out on? You’ve only watched this one recording of his and you already know he is  incredibly sweet, heartbreaking, and funny in a way that made you laugh through the tears. Why in the world is this man cracking jokes as he explains he’ll never get to meet you?

God, you figured that must just be the kind of guy he is. He was thinking of you, wanting to cheer you up even as your hearts broke together. You can tell he’s a good man, practically sense it–he is your soulmate after all.

Yet, as the situation truly dawns on your heart you can’t stop shaking. The tablet falls from your hands and lands with a thump on the bench. There’s a throbbing in your forehead and despite the fact you're dressed for summer, you are hot. This is all wrong, so wrong, in a way that knocks the wind out of you and leaves you cold.

Suddenly, you can't breathe and your body feels weak as if it might give out. Where are you again? And has your vision always been this blurry? What in the world is going on? You look up to the sky, as if you'll somehow be able to gaze far enough to see him out there. Your lover out there among the stars never to return. 

At the thought, you try to stand; but your legs are wobbly and you can no longer think. You can't remember how to breathe. 

This can't be real. Your soulmate is no longer on this Earth... its all too much.

There’s shouting in the background, people rush towards you, and then gravity no longer holds you up. 

It all goes black.

Waking up is a slow process and somewhat confusing. Your head still hurts and your entire body feels like jello, but you at least manage to prop yourself up and look around. You're in a small room that's pretty much empty save for the bed and a night stand. It somewhat reminds you of a hospital room, but before you can think much more about it the door opens.

You’re not surprised to see Eva Stratt walk in. She looks just like she did the moment she opened a can of whoop ass on your life, perfectly calm.

“Hello there. You gave some of us quite a scare today,” she says calmly as she comes to stand by your bedside.

“What happened?”

“You fainted. You don’t remember?”

You frown, trying to remember exactly what happened. You recall finishing watching Ryland’s video and then your cheeks were wet from tears… After that it is all a blur which must be when it happened.

“Kinda, sorta? Is that bad?”

“It is most likely standard. We took the liberty of having you examined by one of our doctors. They believe you simply experienced too much emotional stress to the point your psyche shut down to protect itself. Predictable, really.”

You make a face at her.

“Ohh right, so predictable, that happens to me all the time. Just like last Tuesday, I think.”

Stratt sighs and crosses her arms over her best. “I'm sorry if I seem.. uncaring it is just my way as in my line of work I must remain objective. I only meant to say that you received extremely distressing news and reacted in a very human way.”

“Right. Your line of work being the woman who organized the project Hail Mary,” you mutter, recalling seeing her face many times on the news. 

“Precisely.”

Any other time, you might have wanted to have a conversation with her about that, but now that you are awake there is only one thought on your mind.

“When can I watch the rest of Ryland’s videos?”

“The doctor doesn't recommend it for now. There's concern it could cause another blackout and he still wants to examine you further–”

“No.”

Stratt blinks. “I’m sorry?”

“I don't care about any of that. Ryland left messages for me.. I have to read them. Is it gonna hurt like fucking hell? Yes. Should I probably have a therapist on speed dial? Absolutely. But I have to know everything he had to tell me. Please.”

She watches you carefully as if trying to figure out the puzzle that is you. “You understand severe mental stress is a serious condition?

“Yes. I accept the risks, I'll sign something if need be, just let me watch my soulmates messages!”

There's a beat of silence where she's clearly thinking over your words against whatever the doctor has told her.

Fortunately, you win out.

“You'll have to watch them while laying down and I will have you checked on intermittently to monitor your status. If I believe you have become dangerously compromised, we will stop them at once. And yes, you will have to sign legal paperwork that prohibits you from talking about anything in the videos that is not public knowledge.”

“I can’t tell people that Ryland is my soulmate? But, my family and my friends all knew today I was supposed to meet them and—”

“No, you can tell people that he is your soulmate. In fact, the government would like to release a joint statement to that effect. So, that is not the information we are concerned with getting out.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you feel she is dancing around something.

“Well, if everyone already knows he went on this mission and what he did, then what is the “public knowledge” I can’t say?”

Stratt’s mouth goes in a thin line.

“You’ll see. Will you sign?”

“Fine, whatever gets this moving.”

Stratt clearly wasn't a woman to push your luck with.

“Are you ready to get out of bed?”

“Well, let's see…”

You inhale and exhale slowly as you move your legs to hang off the side of the bed. “C’mon, you got this…”

After what feels like forever your feet touch the ground firmly and you stand up. Stratt eyes you warily as if she's afraid she'll have to call someone in or intervene herself.

Thankfully, your legs don't give out and you raise your hands up in victory. 

Stratt purses her lips together and what could be construed as amusement and waves you forward out the door.

As you follow behind her, you realize you're in a large building with many doors and winding hallways. You wonder if Ryland has ever been here.

She leads you to a large room in which there's a huge projector that takes up an entire wall. There’s a comfortable brown looking couch in front of it with a few blankets strewn across it. There's also a small table that has been laid out with snacks, drinks, and tissues.

They truly were prepared for you and someone put a lot of effort into considering your effort. 

“Here is the remote. I've currently arranged the videos in the order of the most… critical. You can watch them all eventually, but I believe these are the most pressing, alright?

“By pressing you mean?”

“They will give you a clear and immediate understanding of where he is and was now. Once you have finished those, come find me."

That sounded ominous, but you nodded.

“Alright…”

“You will not be disturbed beyond the agreed upon check in. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“If you wish to pause for a break at any time that is fine. We can have substantial meals brought in to you and the bathroom facilities are right outside this door. Consider this base your temporary home for the time being.”

“What about my job? My family and my roommate will be wondering where I am.. I should text them.”

“I've taken care of it all. Everyone knows you are in a safe place and you will contact them at the earliest convenience. The most important thing you can do is hear what Ryland has to say to you. On that sentiment we are in agreement.”

You blink, wondering how your overprotective mother and father would react to a scary government official showing up at their door. Or the way your roommate who is low-key into conspiracy theories would probably threaten to record them until she spoke to you.

Yet, the need to explain anything to anyone else seems far away and you ultimately are just grateful to Stratt.

“Thank you... I don't know what to say. It seems you've thought of everything. I feel taken care of.”

“Don't mention it, this is my job and a favor being fulfilled to an old friend.”

Stratt places her hand on the doorknob, but hesitates for a second. She doesn’t bother turning back to you as she says. “For what it's worth, as someone who spent a great deal of time with Ryland, you truly do remind me of him.”

With that she leaves as mysteriously as she dropped all this on you.

You swallow hard, unsure what to think of her words and her distant yet generous demeanor. 

Are you like Ryland? There were some soulmates who tended to be polar opposites, yet others who could finish each other's sentences.

You suppose there is only one way to find out.

Letting out a sigh you go over to the couch and lay down, adjusting a few times to get comfortable. You plan to watch as many videos as you can without stopping. You just have to know him better and this is the only way no matter how much it hurts.

Then with still a shaky hand and a tightness in your chest, you press play. 

[Video Log 2]

Gonna throw a big question at you to start this message off, but uhh what are your thoughts on aliens? Have you seen WALL-E, E.T., Lilo and Stitch? 

Yeah, well I've got something pretty cool to show you. I’m hoping they won’t censor this part of my messages because you deserve to know. 

[Ryland gets close to the camera and whispers]

We aren’t alone out here.

[Ryland shifts camera to the side]

Rocky, Rocky.. C’mere?

Rocky: Yes Grace?

Rocky, meet my soulmate. 

Rocky: Hello Grace friend!!!

No, no Rocky, remember we talked about this? We're making a message for my mate. My soul mate.

Rocky: Oh yes, hello very important mate of Grace! 

He has been very excited to be in one of the recordings for you. He's told me a lot about his mate and every time he does I just think of you.

But uhh to focus, you're probably wondering why am I ever so casually making a video with an alien creature. Stick with me on this because I'm still processing myself.

Rocky is just like us, his star is dying and he came here with a crew to figure out why. We're working together and he's super smart and helpful. Doesn't really get boundaries the way you would hope alien species might, but that's totally okay. I respect cultural differences.

Rocky: Grace! What mate look like?

Well, I don't know buddy, I've never got the chance to meet them.

Rocky: Grace never seen mate? But love?

Yes, Rocky. I don't need to have them to know how I feel.. it's just in my heart. 

Rocky: Grace, see mate soon?

…..

Hey Rocky, remember earlier when you said there was something on your ship you wanted to go grab and show me?

Rocky: Oh yes!

“Can you uhh do it now?”

Rocky: But we make video for mate?

We can film more when you get back, I promise. 

Rocky: Acceptable. 

Okay, he's gone… Sorry about that, dude has expert hearing like some Harry Potter type stuff.

So uhhh Rocky doesn't know about this being a one way trip. Kinda feels like a downer to be the one on the team who has to admit their planet sent them on a suicide mission. That's why for his sake I've been pretending I'll go back to earth. 

I mean the two of us are already heartbroken enough to fill an entire galaxy. Why should he be too?

Anyways, I'll make another video when he comes back in the meantime as always I love you.

Grace, out.

[Video Log 3]

So…I bet you will never guess how my day here on the Hail Mary went. Now, don’t get jealous or anything, but I’m moving in with someone for the first time, yeah, it’s thaaaat serious.

It’s Rocky and he’s uhh my new roommate.

I always thought you would be the first person I lived with, but here we are. I am now the first human to officially cohabitate with an alien, so that's... pretty cool.

Rocky is pretty much bossing me around and I’m pretty sure he has cursed at me in Eridian numerous times, but Armondo is meditating–robots are actually decent at that–and we’re gonna be totally fine.

I wonder how soon we would have moved in together if….you know. I kinda think things would have moved pretty fast, most of my friends once they met their soulmates things just took it off. I definitely would have been willing to do whatever you wanted. There’s no doubt in my mind I’d be “down-bad” as the kids say. I think they say that anyways.

Well… I’ve got like a zillion things to pick up off the floor and I can hear Rocky rolling around doing something that has me mildly concerned so..

I love you, baby. Wish you were here.

Grace, out.

[Video Log 4]

Hey, I have news. It’s uhh big big news and I have to document this because I want to remember telling you this. I told Rocky the truth that this is a one way trip and that I’d made peace with that which obviously was a fudgin total lie. How could I ever make peace with not getting to kiss you and love you? 

And by some utter miracle Rocky told me that he can just give me some fuel to return to Earth. He said it really casually like you know as if he was just giving me something inconsequential. Like a stick of butter or cup of milk between neighbors, no biggie.

When in reality he is saving my life and that's just.. cool cool cool.

So, this whole you know star crossed lovers, never going to meet vibe we’ve got going on? That's done with and uhh hopefully you’re going to be excited to meet me. 

Lately, I've been wondering how you'll react when you show up and I'm not there. It breaks my heart, rips me up into pieces.

But, now I’m coming home to you. Eventually, once I figure out how to save our planets exactly. I promise.

So if you just wait a bit longer, I’ll be there and I’ll come find you straight away. I'm gonna be the guy who saved the Earth, so I feel like I’ll have that power now ya know? I can just wave my hand and I’ll get to come see you. It's the least they could do.

I’m so relieved. I’ll get to know your name, hear your voice, touch you, kiss you, everything I think about late at night… and I do think a lot about you. Sorry, hope that’s not weird? I mean we’ve never met, but I imagine kissing you. Like a lot. I imagine what it would be like just to hold you and be in bed with you.

There are other things too, but I’m assuming the government is going to watch these logs and its probably better we meet before having those types of talks. 

But they will happen. We will make memories together someday because I have the best friend in the world. 

Rocky: Did tell Mate you come home?”

Yes, I told them. 

Rocky: Did you say Rocky give you fuel? What they think of Rocky?

Or course, don’t worry, I always sing your praises to them. They're going to love you and be so thankful, don't even worry about it. You're basically their best friend too. 

Rocky: Amaze. Amaze. Amaze. Now Grace and mate love each other long time just like Adrian and Rocky. Ok?

Yeah Rocky, that's all we want and you're giving it to us.

Now, let's go do some big science.

Love you, sweetheart.

Grace, out.

[Video Log 5]

So.. things have unexpectedly gotten absolutely terrible… As I told you in a few of the last blogs Rocky and I have been trying to figure out why Tau Ceti isn't dimming. I did the space walk, I did the collection, which didn’t go so well, it went pretty dicey, but it seemed everything would be fine until part of the ship's engine broke off which was bad enough, but then and don't freak out… I almost died?

But uhh Rocky saved me… He sacrificed himself for me. I still can’t understand why he did that. He must've been so afraid and now I’m terrified, baby. 

He’s in his big ball and maybe he’s resting or maybe he’s already gone and everyday I’m just praying. I mean if I’ve lost my best friend and the only person who loves me is light years away then what do I have out here?

I'm truly alone.

…..

On the other hand, I figured it out. I figured out why life is the reason Tau Ceti is okay and I’m breeding the Taumoeba so at least in that regard I can rest easy. You’re going to live. I've found the answer for you that will save the Sun. I like to think you would be proud of me.

I hope Rocky wakes up. I hope he can save his people. I hope I can see you soon. I hope we can be together on Earth soon.

It all just feels hopeless right now, but I’m hanging on for you.

I dreamed of you again last night. You were holding me and it felt so fucking real that when I woke up and I was alone… I just wanted to give up.

But, I won’t give up on you or Rocky.

Did I mention I love you? Cause I do.

Grace, out.

[Video Log 6]

[Ryland & Rocky Sing Love Will Keep Us Alive by The Eagles]

I was standing

All alone against the world outside

You were searching

For a place to hide

Lost and lonely

Now you've given me the will to survive

When we're hungry, love will keep us alive

Don't you worry

Sometimes you've just gotta let it ride

The world is changing

Right before your eyes

Now I've found you

There's no more emptiness inside

….

Hey, sorry for the uhhh random karaoke courtesy of Rocky and I, but I wanted to do something special to give you the news… Clearly as you can see our Rocky friend survived! I know absolutely nothing about Eridian biology, but I still believe it was a miracle.

I don’t know if I’ve ever been more relieved in my life. I cried a lot. Thought of you. Cried some more.

So, now that we have our solution and we are each taking the answer back to our respective planets… 

We’re partying, baby.

Thank you for listening by the way, it helps a lot. I know you’re not watching these in real time, but it still gives me this sense of being heard. And I know you will someday and I feel a connection with you through that.

I like to think that when I finally come back to Earth we can watch them together. I’ll probably cry and you’ll tell me that I shouldn’t cry while watching videos of myself.

Anyways, I can’t talk for too long. I plan to show Rocky Green Day next.

But everything is okay, it's more than okay.

Tomorrow I begin the journey home. I love you. I love you. Wait for me.

Grace, out.

[Video Log 7]

Wow this is… this is rough, I’ve practiced this multiple times already in my head, but this is the first time I’ve actually had the strength to turn on record. Um, a lot has happened in the past several hours that is pretty grim.

I almost lost the ship due to the Taumoeba escaping xenonite breeder tanks, but I managed to fix it and stop them. So I’m okay, but uhhh Rocky… he’s not going to be okay. 

He won’t be able to solve the problem, won’t even know what the problem is, and so… he’s gonna die. A slow painful death due to radiation poisoning because I didn’t foresee this happening.

I know I promised you that I was coming home. I told you that we would be together and I made you promises that now seem so insincere, useless, and stupid.

I’m so sorry, but I’ve done the math and I can’t come home to you and save Rocky. If I can’t save Rocky then all the Eridians die too… So, I really only have one option where everyone lives.

You’ll probably hate me – if you don’t already – and feel like this is just another thing I’m choosing over you. Another way I'm disappointing you and letting you down when I was supposed to make you my world. 

But, another part of me says that this is what you would want. Because even though we can’t be together you’re still on Earth alive, but I know without a doubt he will die and his people. And I think once you see all the messages I've made to you with Rocky… you would want them saved.

I think I need my brain to think of things that way to deal with this guilt and pain hanging on my chest. I’m going to send all the messages I’ve made so far and everything Earth needs to survive in the probes so… 

Holy Moly, I'm the worst soulmate ever. I bet you wish the universe picked someone else, huh? Someone who could keep their promises? A nice simple guy who didn't accidentally become the world’s hero?

I wanted to give you a sweet love story. There’s not been a lot I wanted in life besides my research and teaching, but I wanted that. The wedding, the big house, the children, this big full life… I'd come home to you everyday after teaching and we would be happy. That would have been enough for me… 

For a second I thought that could really happen. Please forgive me, sweetheart. I won't be there to make it up to you. 

I love you. I’ve loved you for light years. I’ve loved you from another galaxy. What’s more fudging romantic and heartbreaking than that?

You’re going to live my love and everyday I know that is a day it was all worth it. Promise me that you'll try to be happy and that you'll know there are things out there worth being brave for.

This will be the last time you ever hear from me, your soulmate.

I’m so very sorry.

I loved you. So. Much.

Grace, out.

After watching the recordings of Ryland, you cry more than you ever have in your life and then some more. You’re amazed at these logs he has made for you, the time he spent thinking of you, and talking to you. Ryland Grace’s sacrifice is known around the world, but seeing it through this lens, knowing he was thinking of you? It’s so much to take in and it just blows you away when you try to process it.

There are many moments where you smile, laugh, and simply gaze in wonder at your soulmate. 

Yet, the grief is still overpowering, and you wonder how you will ever be yourself again. You walked into that park expecting to find love and instead fell off into an abyss of heartbreak. Though even through the sorrow, there is one resounding thought: Ryland loved you without any doubt. The same way that you have been pining for your soulmate, he has been yearning for you from a galaxy away.

The number of tissues you go through could fill an entire dumpster, yet every time you reach for one there is another and another. Someone comes in often when you're asleep and cleans up. The snacks and drinks are refilled, and you get a sense that they really understand you're actively grieving. 

It's not until hours after watching the final video of Ryland’s goodbye do you dare to venture out of your cave. Your eyes are puffy, cheeks tear stained, and your legs still a bit uncertain, but something inside you manages to find the strength. It’s late and you aren’t sure you even know the way back to the small bedroom you woke up in. 

You just want to tell Stratt you watched the specific logs she wanted and watch all of the rest in between those.

As if on cue Stratt finds you immediately and appraises you with knowing eyes. You get the feeling that despite her not outright saying it, you’re being monitored at all times.

“You look like you've been to hell and back.”

“I have,” you say with quiet certainty. “I’m still in disbelief, honestly.”

“Hm. Come with me, we have more to discuss now that you have the full picture.”

You frown, what else could she possibly have to tell you? All you want to do is get back to that room and press play as that feels the only way to be connected to Ryland.

“I mean what else is there to say? I get it, he's not coming back ever. I get it.”

“Just trust me,” she says waving you forward as she begins walking down the hall.

“The same way Ryland did?”

She pauses at that but continues on.

You begrudgingly follow her to a small room with a simple table and chairs. On the table lay some stacked papers, a manilla envelope, and a pen. Both of you sit down and you try to resist the urge to peek at what they say.

There is something you want to ask her.

“Have you seen the recordings?”

“Of course, it was necessary to view them to understand all aspects of the mission.”

“What did you think? What am I supposed to do with this? Everything he said to me, how I factored into his experience.”

“I think… you have simultaneously suffered a profound loss and a truly astounding love.”  

“Well... that's one way to put it.”

Stratt observes you silently for a second before clearing her throat.

“Now, firstly, I need you to sign what we discussed earlier. I assume you understand my meaning.”

Stratt pushes the lengthy piece of paper towards you and places a pen on top.

“Yeah, the general public can’t know about Rocky, I get it, aliens equal mass hysteria yadayada,” you say as you grab the pen and sign.

“Perfect. Now, Ryland, also had some personal effects, things that were in a storage locker.. Would you like those items?”

“Oh yes, please,” you breathe, the thought of touching something that Ryland once had his hands on might at least dull the ache in your heart the tiniest bit.

“Alright, that can be easily arranged. Lastly, I have something for you that is solely yours.”

Stratt picks up the manilla envelope and hands it to you.

Eyebrows raised, you open it slowly and pull out a thin rectangular piece of piece. You nearly drop it as your eyes read a number so big you think they must’ve added a 0 or two on accident.

“What the heck is this?” You say in disbelief.

“All of the astronauts were to receive compensation through some method. Whether it be to family, friends, or charity. Ryland never got to pick his but I believe he would want it to go to you.”

“No… I can’t accept this. It’s too much money; I’ve never even considered having that amount of cash. Just no. Besides, this belongs to him, I can't just take–”

It's too much for you and it causes guilt to swirl in your stomach. 

The small piece of paper seems to scold your hands, and you drop it back on the table as if it burned you.

“The money doesn't even begin to touch his sacrifice. No amount ever could,” Stratt says.

“Yes, but this is money that is only here because of Ryland’s sacrifice. It's fucking blood money, how could I ever feel okay about this? Spend any of this without immediately feeling like the worst soulmate?” you whisper, tears brimming your eyes.

Stratt eyes you carefully, her arms crossing over her chest.

“Listen, I’ve read your file. You come from a big family of humble means, put yourself through college with some pretty hefty loans, and now spend most of your days helping others for a small salary. Is that correct?"

You swallow, not finding any inaccuracies in her statement, but before you can attempt to disagree Stratt speaks again, her voice quieter.

“Please, allow me to do this kindness for you, for Ryland. I feel enough guilt over his fate, the least I can do is this. I mean do you not believe he would have wanted you taken care of?”

You look her in the eyes and find only solemn truth in her words.

“Okay. This is flipping crazy, but yeah I'll think it over."

“Think of the money as a means to protect yourself. Once the world finds out you are Ryland Grace’s soulmate. They will want a piece of you and the tragedy of your fate.”

“Screw that. Ryland and I have given enough to the world. I haven't even begun to process the grief in my heart.”

“Correct. So, take the necessary time to heal… then you go out there and live the life he didn’t get to. The life Ryland would want you to have.”

"Okay," you whisper, the weight of her words hitting you hard.

You stare down at the check and then your eyes flicker to your wrist.

“Eva?”

“My soulmate markings haven't disappeared. That means Ryland is still out there... somewhere."

"I am aware."

"Do you think he'll ever come back to me?"

....

.....

…

An Unknown Time After Probes Were Sent…

“Grace, do ever think about mate?” 

Ryland turns and looks at his best friend. Rocky often asks about you and how Grace feels. The scientist knows it's because he can seem quite melancholy at times and Rocky has caught him simply gazing out into the ocean lost in thought.

After all, it’s been months since you landed on Erid and while Ryland adores teaching the Eridian children. He’ll never stop mourning what could have been, what should have been between the two of you.

 “Of course. I'm always thinking about them in some way. What they're doing, whether they're happy or sad… If they've found someone else.”

“Rocky have something to tell Grace.”

“Yeah?”

“Erid engineers been working hard to understand human technology. Very different from Eridian.”

“Yeah buddy, you told me. Don’t worry, I understood it was a long shot from the start.”

“Grace don’t understand. They have done it. The Hail Mary can leave for Earth in just a few days.”

Ryland inhales sharply, his eyes widening and pulse quickening as he processed Rocky’s words.

“Rocky… I-I don’t know what to say…you don't know what that means to me.”

“Rocky do. You sad without Mate. Without hope. Must fix.”

“I'll never regret coming back for you, Rocky. But yeah… There's an immense hole in my heart that can only be fixed by going to them.”

“Leave soon as can. Rocky will miss Grace.”

“I'll miss you too, Rocky. Who knows, maybe someday you can come by the earth.”

“Rocky like that.”

“...What if they don't want me Rocky? I've made them wait so long for me.”

“If no like Grace, then stupid."

Ryland let out a soft laugh and gently patted the top of Rocky’s head. “Thanks old friend, I needed that.”

There’s a beat of silence where they simply share a moment that can only be understood between two close friends.

“Rocky, are you upset I’m leaving?”

“Yes. Very upset, but more upset if you stay.”

“What do you mean?”

“Not enough time spent on Erid. But no time spent with Mate. Must correct.”

Grace smiles, his heart welling with how much Rocky loves him as tears start to fall down his face.

“You’re always right, Rocky.”

“Let's start get Grace ready to go,” Rocky says, heading back towards Grace’s small house in the biodome. 

Grace watches Rocky for a second, just taking a minute to take it all in.

Then he finally stood up, his heart full and rich with love. 

“Just wait sweetheart, it looks like I'll be keeping that promise after all. I guess fate has finally decided to show us some grace.”

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