maladaptive daydreaming

You had been living in the March household for a number of months at this point, it had been nice – it hadn't been as awkward as you had been anticipating. Holly was rather thrilled when you baked her a birthday cake (which thankfully tasted pretty damn good), though of course she celebrated her birthday with her friends. Sixteen was too old to be celebrating with her dad she had said. Holland tried not to look hurt, but you could tell he was. Typical teenage angst.  

So, you were quite surprised when Holly had asked you (and Jackson) to come to her school play for Macbeth.  

“Isn't Macbeth the cursed play?” Holland asked before shoving a handful of peanuts in his mouth.  

The three of you were in the kitchen, Holly sitting on the bar stool and Holland annoyingly hovering around you whilst you tried to cook. “Yeah, that why we chose it,” Holly said proudly. “Do you think Mr. Healy won't mind coming too?”  

Holland shrugged, “I'm sure if he's not busy he'd like to come. Make sure you call him Jackson to his face, he doesn't like being called Mr. Healy.”  

“You're the one who said it's rude to call adults by their first name!” She then looked at you and pointed, “Why am I allowed to call her by her first name?!”  

“First off, no pointing, that's rude. Secondly, she lives with us. It would be weird to use formalities with people you live with.” He looked over to you and gave you a sly smile, clearly amused with himself.  

Both you and Holly rolled your eyes in synchronisation. “Well, it's rude to be hovering around the kitchen when I'm trying to cook! You keep getting in my way.” You were aiming for playful, but your voice was a little irritated. Nothing worse than having someone else in the kitchen when you were cooking.  

Holland raised his hands up in surrender before pulling a beer out of the fridge and taking his leave. That left just you and Holly, she remained seated and asked you a couple of questions about being an interior designer.  

When it came to the night of the play you had decided to wear one of your favourite maxi length dresses, accessorised with the right boots and jewellery of course. You'd even done your makeup, your eyeshadow matching your dress nicely. Holly was already at the school, having stayed after class to help get the production ready. Jackson said he'd meet you and Holland there, Holland insisted you both take his car. Holly was to play as one of the witches and you were curious to see how she'd preform.  

When you went into the living room you were surprised to see Holland in a light-coloured suit. Holland was sitting on the couch but upon seeing you enter he stood up, mouth agape. It made you feel like a deer in headlights, did you mascara smudge?  

“You look absolutely gorgeous, sunshine,” was all he said, his eyes raking you up and down.  

Clearing your throat you responded, “Thanks, Holland. Though I am surprised to see you in a suit. Doesn't that seem a little too formal?”  

He out stretched his arms as if to show his outfit off more. “What? Don't I look handsome? And I want to look like a proud dad.”  

“You look very handsome.” That's the problem, you thought inwardly. “But don't you think that leather jacket ensemble you have would look a little less... stiff?”  

Holland rounded the couch so he could stand in front of you now. “I suppose you are the designer expert here,” his voice was low.  

Before you could think better of it you reached up to the knot in his tie, gingerly loosening it. This caused you to tug on it a little, which made Holland lean forward a small amount. You were acutely aware of how close together you two were. “Well, I think you'd better change,” you said softly as you undid his tie.  

His eyebrow quirked up. “Is that so?”  

You nodded, looking up at him as you pulled the tie free from his neck. “You better be quick, or we'll be late.” Holding up the tie in front of him he searched your face one more time before he reached out to grab it.  

He hummed, “You better help me pick out the right clothes then. I have a lot of leather jackets.”  

The look he was giving you was making your heart race, or maybe it was the close proximity, or both. You looked down at your watch, you two really needed to get going. “Alright, lead on.”  

Holland must be the devil incarnate at the way he didn't move for a long moment, instead giving you a crooked smile. It was probably a good thing you took the tie off of him otherwise you're sure you would have used it to pull him down to your level so you could kiss him. Wordlessly he moved around you and headed down the hall to his room, you trailed after him before you could overthink more.  

Thought this wasn't the first time you were in his room, this was the first time you could actually look at the surroundings. It was all rather tasteful, the furniture was all dark wood, none of that horrible orange wood stain. His dressers were also different from his bedside tables which you appreciated. You hated matching sets for bedroom furniture, it always looked so cheap. Thinking about the dying cactus in his bedroom window you wondered if the watering you gave it had helped at all, but the door to his ensuite was closed.  

Holland pulled open his closet door and gestured to all the hanging suits and jackets he had. He had quite an array. “Be my guest,” he huffed as he sat down on the foot of his bed. The same place you had sat when you were interviewed by police.  

Chewing the inside of your check you quickly browsed through the coat hangers until you found a dark burgundy leather jacket. When you pulled it out you realised it was almost bordering on brown, you could work with this. At the other end of the closet were some of his button up dress shirts with long sleeves, immediately you found one that would match. You turned to him with clothes in hand. “Pants?” You questioned.  

“Top right drawer,” he replied, indicating towards the dresser.  

Sure enough he had a large array of pants too. You ended up settling on very dark wash denim, wanting to make the outfit a little more casual. After all, you were going to a high school and it wasn't a graduation ceremony. “Stand up,” you said to him imperatively.  

Without protest he got up, eyeing you with amusement. “Already put together something that quickly?”  

“Yes, because we're going to be late,” you huffed as you held out the clothes to him, pining them against his body so you could see the pieces together. “Alright, that works.” His fingers touched yours as he took the clothes from you. “I'll wait in the car,” you said, avoiding his gaze. Truthfully, you wished you could stay to watch him get undressed.  

Holland did reply but you didn't hear it as you quickly darted out of his room.  

You weren't waiting in the car long before Holland came out, promptly locking the front door behind him. A little pride swelled in your chest as you saw him in the outfit you had picked, it suited him well. Maybe a little too well. He was always so effortlessly handsome and when he did put in effort... phew. Once he got closer to the car you noticed he left the top buttons undone.  

He promptly got in the driver's seat, his hand held out waiting for you to pass him the keys. It was cute, this nonverbal communication between the two of you. It was much like how he and Jackson seemed to be able to communicate wordlessly. “You know it's not too late to pull out,” Holland said as he put the key in the ignition.  

That puzzled you. “Why would I do that? I told Holly that I would come.”  

“Yeah, but... I don't want you to feel obliged.” His hands were clasping the steering wheel rather tightly if the whitening of his knuckles was anything to go by. “I can't imagine you'd ever be going to a high school play for a kid that's not yours.”  

He had his aviators on so you couldn't look him in the eye. “I'm doing this because I want to, Holland.” You placed a hand on his thigh, squeezing it once before you removed it. “Besides, like you said: Holly is important.”  

The expression on his face was almost... incredulous? But that quickly gave way to a smile as he pulled out onto the street.  

As expected, Jackson met the two of you there. Holland even managed to park his car next to Jackson's.  

Jackson greeted you warmly, “Well, don't you look pretty?”  

Before you could say thank you, Holland butted in, “Correction: she always looks pretty.”  

That sent butterflies through your stomach and of course you could feel heat rising to your cheeks. “Well, thank you Jackson,” you said politely.  

“Hey!” Holland said, arms out wide, acting all offended.  

You scoffed, “You too, Holland.”  

He seemed satisfied with that, though he saw someone he recognised and quickly walked over leaving you and Jackson. “It's rather sickening how much he gushes about you,” Jackson said. That made you look over to him, eyes widening. “Oh yeah, I have to hear about how amazing you are every day. He's been bumbling through his work.” You couldn't believe what you were hearing. What did Holland mean by all that? 

You let out a small laugh, “Doesn't he always bumble through his work?”  

Jackson laughed with you, “More or less. There have been many instances of Holland making things harder than necessary for us when there's some pretty woman involved. Like with the DOJ case he told you about, Tally who was working for the accused had Holland tripping over his own shoes. She ended up betrayed us, almost shooting us were it not for Holly.”  

“Oh, uh, was she the one Holly threw cold water at?” You hoped you recalled that story right, trying to ignore how your heart sank at hearing how Holland ogled other women. You had no right to feel that way, you reminded yourself. 

“Correct,” he gave you a crooked smile before he leaned into your ear. “But between you and me, he hasn't been flustered by anyone since he met you. All he talks about is you, he's lost interest in anyone else. Not that he ever really acted upon those interests to begin with.”  

You weren't sure what to make of that, but luckily Holland had waved you two over, so you didn't have to respond.  

The play was genuinely pretty good by high school production standards. Certainly better than the ones you remember from your time at school, though you supposed technology had improved significantly in that time. Holly of course did great, but you hadn't expected anything less from her. Holly never did anything half-assed. Of course, when it came to the round of applause, Holland stood up to give a standing ovation. Only a few others did that. Holly would probably be embarrassed but at least she would know her father was her number one supporter.  

“Do you think Holly's going to grumble at me for standing up?” Holland asked.  

The two of you were outside, leaning against his car as you waited for Holly. Jackson had already left, though he wanted to congratulate Holly, he had “matters to attend to”. Holly would understand anyhow. It was dark and a little cold out so you let out a shiver, regretting not wearing your Afghan coat. Holland seemed to notice this and frowned before he shucked off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. You were going to protest but he just shook his head. “Thanks,” you said automatically. “And to answer your question... she might. But I know she's secretly happy her dad was there for her.” You gave him a small smile, one which he returned.  

“I don't know... I've not exactly been an exemplarily father,” he muttered, hand rubbing at his goatee as he looked out onto the car park.  

Something in your ribcage fractured at hearing those words. Though, yeah, there was some truth to them. But he'd been wallowing in grief and guilt the last few years. He loved his daughter, cherished her deeply, anyone could see that. You let out a shaky breath as you adjusted his jacket that was on your shoulders. “Well... maybe in order to be a better dad for Holly, you have to allow yourself to be happy.”  

He looked back at you with an expression you couldn't discern, bewilderment maybe. You held his gaze even though it was making you squirm. “Thank you... by the way. For doing this., you didn't have to. I know Holly is glad you came,” his voice was soft but earnest.  

You nodded, “Of course. I just hope she'll keep inviting me to things even after I move out.”  

He seemed to freeze at that, his face contorting into something close to horror. “Move out?” He squealed.  

“I mean, that won't be for a while yet. But hopefully my business does well enough and besides, when you finally get to move into the house you rebuilt...” You bit your lip, trying to tread this delicate subject properly. “It'll be your house, Holland. Your family's home, I don't want to intrude on that.”  

“I– you... you would never be intruding!” His voice was sounding quite panicked, going up an octave or two. “Please don't think we don't want you here.”  

You stared at Holland for a moment. “Holland I can't rent with you forever. And it would be weird in that house...” 

Holland opened his mouth to say something before he was interrupted by a familiar voice calling out your name, along with ‘dad!’.  

The two of you turned to see Holly coming your way, her face plastered with excitement. Holland pushed himself off the car to greet his daughter, “Hey sweetheart.” She allowed herself to be wrapped into a hug from her dad. “Good job out there kid,” he said into her hair.  

She pulled back. “You think so?” She asked, looking between the two of you.  

You nodded, “Colour me impressed, Holly.” Holland's smell was lingering on his jacket, you could smell it quite strongly when the breeze went a certain direction. There was certainly still a stubborn smell of tobacco, but it was certainly less than before.  

The drive home had consisted of Holly talking animatedly about the behind the scenes of the production, how she helped with some of the costuming. Holland kept asking her questions about it. The three of you stopped by the Mexican joint for dinner, though Holland surprisingly didn't have anything to drink since he was driving. Maybe you were imagining it, but he looked a little hurt. It was evident he didn't like the idea of you moving out, though you're not sure why. The two of you were good friends now, you could see that, but he was good friends with Jackson too. He never asked Jackson to move in with him.  

It had been late by the time you all got home, so Holly had gone straight to her bedroom after having a shower. Both you and Holland sat in the living room and you took that opportunity to hand his jacket back to him.  

Holland was the one who brought up the house he was rebuilding, the one you were helping with the interior design. Holly was still adamant it looked as close to the original as possible.  

“I know you want to do right by Holly, but once she moves off to college in a few years it'll just be you in that house. A house that technically no longer exists, it will look the same but... it no longer belongs to you. It belongs to your family, the memories you have.” He looked over to you but didn't say anything, though you could see the emotion in his eyes. “Is that what you want Holland? To be stuck in the past because that's what Holly wants?” 

He let out a sniffle, “I'm not sure.”  

You immediately felt bad. “Look, I'm sorry. I didn't... I didn't mean to get all personal about it. It's just... you've been putting it off for years. You still don't have plans drawn up or a builder ready.”  

“You're a little too perceptive,” he muttered pathetically, though there was no malice in his voice.  

“Hey, I thought you were the private investigator here!” You joked, determined to lighten the mood.  

Despite himself he let out a huff of a laugh, “You're going to put me out of business.”  

You woke up in the middle of the night with an unquenchable thirst. Blindly feeling in the dark on your bedside table you found your water carafe... only to find it was empty. Sighing you got up to fill your carafe up in the sink, your clock telling you it was a little after 2am. Not wanting to wake anyone up you kept the hallway lights off, you knew your way around good enough at this point and there was a little bit of moonlight streaming in.  

Since it was so quiet you were acutely aware of your footsteps... and there was some weird sound... coming from Holland's room? Both yours and Holland's bedroom doors were across from each other, Holly's room well and truly down the hall. You stood still, frozen in place as you tried to listen harder, moving forward just a few inches, careful not to make a noise.  

You weren't expecting to hear Holland moaning. It wasn't loud by any means, you probably wouldn't have noticed it initially if you weren't paying such close attention to the silence. That made your heart pace frantically in your chest, making it feel like thunder was pumping through your veins. You were terrified of dropping your carafe or making any sound for that matter so you tightened your grip. Really you ought to move, be anywhere but here. You certainly shouldn't be listening. Listening to the sound of fabric moving, or Holland's soft whimpering.  

Immediately a heat coiled low in your gut, an all too familiar feeling. Imagining Holland... you shook your head trying to shake the thought out of your mind. You shouldn't think of him that way... 

Then you heard Holland moaning your name before being followed by utter silence a few long moments afterwards.  

You darted back into your room, thirst be damned – you had another type of thirst to attend to first.   

The days following Holland had been a little... overprotective. To the point of annoyance. He had followed you to your office one day, god knows how long he sat there in his car, but once you came out for your lunch break you saw him. The idiot couldn't get his car seat to recline properly so you saw him cursing in the driver's seat as he tried to duck.  

If you weren't so annoyed at the man you would have found it all rather comical. For a detective he really lacked subtlety. At least he had the intuition to park on the other side of the street. Of course, this led to a bit of a yelling match, “Holland, what in god's name are you doing here?”  

He quickly hopped out of the car to join you on the sidewalk. “I'm sorry! Listen, I just had to make sure you're alright!”  

You rolled your eyes, “You said so yourself that those men are in jail!”  

The volume of which you two were bickering certainly had a few people looking your way. “Keep it moving asshole!” Holland yelled to a woman who had literally stopped in her tracks, making her scamper off. He turned back to you and sighed exasperatedly. “Who's to say there won't be others?”  

“Quite literally the police, and if you recall: you!” Your arms were flailing about as you gestured angrily. “I am not a child, Holland. Or are you going to go camp out at Holly's school too?” Your voice was more acidic than you meant it to be.  

He looked a little hurt at that, putting his hands on his hips as he hung his head in defeat. You immediately regretted your tone. “They probably don't even know about Holly.” Holland then procured a cigarette out of his suit pocket, it was only then you noticed his tie was undone... and his button up shirt. He looked up at you, his eyes squinting at you momentarily. “I'd hate for something to happen again because of me and my line of work.”  

You groaned, not wanting to admit defeat or back down. “I understand that Holland, but you can't camp out at my work all day or follow me to the grocery store. Don't you have work to do?”  

“Perhaps,” he tried to sound nonchalant but fell a little short. “I figured this was more important.” That sent a pang down your spine.  

The resolve in you was waning. “I appreciate the sentiment, but you shouldn't be here.” You sighed heavily. “I'll see you at home, alright?”  

He donned on his aviators before he took a long drag of his cigarette. “Alright, sunshine.” His expression was unreadable, probably because of the sunglasses. “You better not be late or I'll go looking.”  There was a long pause before he spoke up again, “Also I only tailed you around the grocery store once,” he said humorously, grinning widely as he saw your reaction.  

You whacked him – somewhat playfully, somewhat not – on the chest with the back of your hand. “I'm going to slash your tyres!”  

“How uncouth!” He laughed.  

Things resumed to normal after that, or at least you never saw Holland sneaking around.  

✿✿✿✿ 

It was a few days later where it was you and Holly in the living room, you were looking through the large bookshelf that was in the corner next to the record player. Holland was busy drying and putting away the dishes from dinner. There was an ornately decorated picture frame that had a family photo of a much younger Holly, with Holland and presumably his late wife. They looked so happy, all smiling wide for the camera. “That's the only photo that survived the fire,” came Holly's voice just a little behind you. You hadn't realised she was looking over your shoulder, so the sound of her voice made you jump. “Sorry,” she mumbled.  

You heard Holland shuffle into the living room and settle on the couch, but you were more interested with the photo in front of you. His late wife was gorgeous, you could see a little bit of Holly in her. “Is this your mom?” You asked Holly as you gently grasped the photo, trying to get a closer look at it.  

She looked up at you and put her hands out expectantly, so you handed the photo over. You were expecting her to put it back, but she stared at it for a moment. “Yeah, that's mom. I remember her fretting about getting a good picture.” Your heart broke as you saw a small, sad smile twitch on Holly's lips.  

“Can you tell me about her?” You asked earnestly.  

Holly looked up at you with a mixture of surprise and genuine happiness. “Okay,” she replied enthusiastically as she put the photo back into its rightful place on the bookshelf. She sits on the bean bag and you sit on the couch ottoman that was nearby, in the corner of your eye you notice Holland is still on the couch. Though, he hasn't turned the television on. “She was a great cook, like you. I think you two would have been friends. I wish her recipe books survived, maybe you would have been able to make some of the recipes she used.” She pouted thinking about it. “There was this one dish, it was English but I can't remember–”  

Holly was cut off by Holland. “–Beef Wellington.” You both turned to look at him, he did that quirk with his eyebrows. “It was a Beef Wellington, the one wrapped in pastry?”  

You turned to see Holly nod. “It was one of my favourites.”  

“That is a very tricky dish to make, takes a lot of skill to get it right.” You sounded a little bewildered. “I don't think my cooking skills are up to par.”  

“Yeah, but she was English. She grew up learning to cook that.” Holland said.  

“Did you two ever get to go to England?” You thought about her being buried over there.  

Holly shook her head, “Mom said she didn't miss England. She moved to California because she loved the sun.” You noticed Holly chewed on her lip. “We had a funeral for her here, but her family took her ashes back to England.” She then screwed up her nose, almost as if in disgust. “She wouldn't have wanted to buried there, so I didn't want to go.”  

Discreetly you looked over your shoulder at Holland, only to see he was staring at his hands, wringing them in his lap. “Hey, well, good for you for not just going along with it Holly. I'm sure your defiance would have made her happy.”  

Holly gave you a sheepish smile at that, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I'd like to think so.”  

The next hour was filled with stories about Holly's mom, with Holland chipping in every once and a while when Holly forgot something. Your heart leaped in your ribcage when you noticed how glassy Holland's eyes were, though no tears were ever spilled. Holly was only eleven when her mom died and you wanted nothing more than to reach out to her and wrap her into a hug. Instead, you let your fingers dig into your thighs. At some point Holland had left when you and Holly were in the middle of conversing, you heard his bedroom door click closed. Selfishly, you wanted to go after him and ask him if he was okay. But you had no right to do that. He stayed in there for quite some time. 

Then of course, Holly remembers she has homework to do, so she moves to the kitchen table. It seems she had told you everything she wanted to tell you about her mom. You headed down the hallway to go to the bathroom, though hovered outside Holland's door first; hand about to knock before you ultimately chicken out.  

You spent the rest of the evening on the couch alone, some record of Holland's playing very quietly in the background as you read one of the novels that had been on his bookshelf. Not that you were absorbing any of the words your eyes were skimming over, your mind too preoccupied by Holland. Had you overstepped by asking Holly about her late mother? You hoped not, you hoped you hadn't crossed some unspoken line. If you had, would Holland be upset with you? He didn't seem like the type to hold grudges. But he didn't exactly wear his heart on his sleeve, he was very guarded in a lot of ways. Understandably so.  

“How's your homework going sweetheart?” You hear Holland's voice from the dining room. The large archways connecting the living room, dining room and kitchen were large enough it almost felt like an open plan. Your ears started ringing ever so slightly, blood rushing through your veins at hearing Holland's voice. 

She groaned, you could hear her drop her pen dramatically on the table. “I hate having to do English, I already speak the language why do we have to keep doing it in school?” 

“Tsk, come on now, what good would it be if you found the cure for cancer or any other scientific discovery, if you couldn't write a good report on it!?” He retorted.  

Holly sounded fed up, “Is that why you're always on my ass about grammar and stuff?”  

“Just say grammar, don't say and stuff,” he grumbled.  

You could hear paper shuffling. “I'm going to bed, it's getting late.” Holly mumbled as you heard her footsteps go down the hall. “Goodnight!” She called out to you and Holland. Though both you and Holland knew she'd be up reading her book.  

“'Night, don't stay up too late!” He called after her, but you heard her bedroom door close.  

Not even bothering to put a bookmark in the book you had been 'reading' you got up off the couch to see Holland in the kitchen, leaning against the countertops. “Sorry, if I was overstepping with that photo,” you said shyly, avoiding his gaze as you said it.  

He made a gruff sort of noise, though it was more like a squeal. “I don't mind, I think Holly appreciated it.”  

You looked at him then, he had a sad smile on his face. “Still...” you trailed off, not quite knowing what to say.  

“Listen, you're good with Holly. That makes Holly happy... it makes me happy.” That made you blush. “My wife she, uh, since she was British she always said the damndest things. Yet she took grammar so seriously.” He let out a huff, as is reminiscing something.  

You didn't say anything, though you mouth was slightly agape as if you wanted to speak. The words just hadn't come. Holland pushed himself off the countertop he was leaning against and stood just a foot in front of you, you could see how the ring on his necklace faintly glowed under the kitchen lights. You also noticed for the first time he had a smidge of chest hair peaking out from the top of his wife beater that he had under his unbuttoned button up shirt. You almost jumped away at the unexpected contact from Holland when he put his thumb and finger on your chin, angling your face to look up at him. His eyes were half lidded from this angle, looking down at you with an expression you had never seen on him before. He was so beautiful, the light above him illuminated his hair, almost giving him a halo-like effect. “You'd never be able to upset me. I'm glad to have you here.” Relief washed through you instantly, your shoulders immediately relaxing, making you now only realise how tense you had been. You were immensely grateful you hadn't fucked anything up between you and Holland.  

The words hung in the air for a long moment. “Good, I'm glad,” you managed to breathe out. It felt like there was an electric current going between you two, going straight through where his touch on your chin was.  

Regretfully, he let go but not before he moved his head so that his mouth was right next to your ear.  “Goodnight, sunshine.” He pulled back and looked at you, his eyes boring directly into yours. God, his irises were becoming your favourite shade of blue... no, maybe your favourite colour period.  

You swallowed thickly, like you had molasses in your throat. “Goodnight, Holland,” you managed to whisper.  

He gave you a crooked smile before he stepped out of the kitchen, disappearing into his room.  

Fuck.  

It took Grace a little over two weeks to get his affairs in order on Erid. He wasn't going to get another chance to come back to Erid so he wanted to be thorough, he left behind a lot of recordings for future classes he had planned. Then of course, there was the arduous task of saying goodbye to Rocky, forever... again. But this time Grace genuinely knew this would be goodbye. They had spent those fourteen days on Erid attached at the hip, making the most of what little time they had left. The Eridians had also had a big farewell for him, even carving out a statue of him into Xenonite. It had been heartbreaking, it was heartbreaking.  

When Prometheus first arrived at Erid Grace hadn't slept for almost forty-eight hours and once he did, he was plagued of nightmares. Nightmares about you dying in childbirth, or you and his daughter freezing to death. Every night on Erid he had some nightmare about you or Evie, it was only once he was onboard Prometheus on the journey home to Earth that the nightmares stopped. He was worried he might have nightmares about Rocky, but he hadn't – at least not yet – perhaps because he knew Rocky was safe and sound, surrounded by his family.  

Much of his month-long trip on Prometheus he had managed to keep himself preoccupied for two reasons; so he wouldn't linger too much on how much he missed Rocky, and because he was anxious about what awaited him on Earth. He missed Rocky more than what would be considered a healthy amount, he knew that. But he missed you more, he had been given the chance he never thought he would get: a family. It would be awkward, but he needed to try. He would never forgive himself if he stayed on Erid knowing he had a daughter waiting for him. Rocky had certainly pestered Grace about it.  

During his time on the Hail Mary, Grace had kept using the electrodes in his sleep to keep his muscles active to avoid muscle atrophy. Yes, he had been awake and was actively doing things around the lab, but without work out gear he didn't have a way to maintain it. Besides, he liked being in very good shape. He had been in good shape on Earth, but even better when he woke up on the Hail Mary. Only once on Erid was he able to use weights Rocky had made like he would have if he was back on Earth. He'd never been one to work out all that much, asides from his bike riding to and from work, but it had been nice habit to get into when he had so much down time. There were many times where he had wondered what you would think of his now more obvious muscle definition.  

Now of course he was stuck on his second day of quarantine in Houston, Herakles had informed him of such a thing taking place. It made sense, heck when the astronauts landed on the moon in the sixties they had to quarantine for twenty-one days. Imagine saving the world from the apocalypse only to introduce a deadly alien virus. At least his quarantine was only a week.  

When Prometheus was docked by the two pilots from the International Space Station, they had boarded and stayed in some new type of space suit, more like the Russian EVA suits. It had been weird, the two pilots saluted Grace and he still couldn't help but feel like a fraud. Did the public know he didn't choose to go? He wasn't able to find that in any of the press articles he had read on the trip home. Once the three of them landed (re-entry seemed more terrifying than a spacewalk in his opinion) they had to be rubbed down with sodium hypochlorite, the pilots even having to undergo a stint of quarantine too. He was tested and screened for every illness under the sun, so far the results had been unremarkable. They were pretty serious about this stuff, rightfully so. He still couldn't believe all of this had been done for him, to bring him home.  

His eyes welled up with moisture as he thought of you, thought how you had done all this for him. And you'd still given him the choice.  

There was a sudden knock on his privacy window which tore him out of his thoughts. His heart hammered in his chest at the possibility as to who it could be. Without a lot of Grace he quickly made his way over. He's sure his face would have been rather comical once he opened the curtain only to see the one and only Eva Stratt on the other side.  

“Welcome back to Earth,” she said plainly, her voice a little crackly from the speaker.  

He rolled his eyes, “I don't want to hear that you were right.” All this time he thought he would be furious with her, and he still was to a degree, but now seeing her... She had aged and she looked tired. When he first recalled her betraying him, he wanted nothing more than to give her hell. “Also, fuck you Stratt,” he spat out, voice laced with venom. Okay, maybe he was furious.  

She didn't look surprised. “I deserve that,” she agreed.  

“You only robbed me of my life, robbed me of raising my daughter. No biggie.” Oh, was he incensed – it was rising to the surface now.  

“And you saved the world. Without your crew,” she looked at him, calculating. “You're the hero I said you would be.”  

He let out a bitter laugh, “Well, thankfully I have the Eridians to thank for not dying in space–” 

“–Dr. L/N too - she's the reason those plants were onboard,” Stratt interjected. There was a small tattoo on her neck, peaking out above her collar; it was a V shape. “She also got me out of prison. I was supposed to do life without parole, that's what the tattoo means.”  

His heart sank a little at that, “And why would she do that?” He narrowed his eyes at her.  

Stratt simply shrugged, “Because she knew I could help with stalling nuclear winter – and more importantly to her, she knew I could be the one to get Project Prometheus off the ground.”  

Grace nodded slowly, “And let me guess: you helped her out of the good of your own heart?” He laid the sarcasm on thickly.  

She let out an exasperated sigh. “I did what had to be done. I knew she was clever enough to solve superluminal speed –” 

It was his turn to interject, “–You wanted to throw her off the Project Hail Mary.”  

Stratt adjusted her posture. “I did. And it's because of you she stayed, because of you I knew how close she was, she just needed the right equipment. If the Hail Mary was to fail, then humanity was doomed. She was my other shot in the dark.”  

“The consequences of humans using superluminal speed could be catastrophic,” Grace replied, thinking about colonialism alone – now imagine that on an intergalactic scale.  

“You think too highly of humans. But fret not, it has been ratified and codified in every nation on Earth that superluminal speed will not see humanity terraforming other planets. Leave no trace and all that. Besides, space tourism has also been outlawed. All those billionaires lost everything with the stock market being non-existent, the only space organisations that exist are government funded ones.” Her face was hard as stone, her expression impossible to read. “Erid is off limits, too.”  

That sent a wave of relief through Grace. Yes, he was devastated he would never see Rocky again, but Erid and the Eridians would be free from human interference. “What will be the intention of utilising superluminal speed then?”  

She did not hesitate with her reply, “Well, it costs an arm and a leg to make such a spacecraft. Prometheus cost more than double the Hail Mary. Not that we have been upfront with the costs, world leaders would be horrified we spent so much on a rescue mission.”  

“I am finding it hard to believe this project got the approval for just a rescue mission,” he said, baffled.  

Stratt nodded in agreement, “You would be right. We had to test if humans would be affected in such a spacecraft. We had tested it with other organic material, but you are the first human to travel at superluminal speeds. You seem unaffected.”  

He laughed again bitterly, “So another guinea pig experiment?”  

That made her shrug, “Statistically we were not worried. Dr. L/N would never in a million years sent Prometheus out to get you if she thought there was the slightest chance it would affect your survival.”  

Grace wasn't sure what to say to that, he was trying not to freak out about being the test subject once more.  

Stratt broke the silence, “Back to your original question: the priority is Earth. If the Taumeoba had not arrived when it did we would be using superluminal speed to visit the Tau Ceti solar system again. If there was no tangible fix there, then humanity would be looking elsewhere for answers. But now that you saved our sun we have no need for superluminal speeds as it is; temperatures have slowly started to normalise. But as you know, before the Petrova Line was discovered humanity was facing climate change. And I am sure you remember we blew up Antarctica for the methane gasses, though yes they will dissipate, there have been other measures used to warm up the Earth. Now we need to go about undoing those.”  

“I had read that many of the world's top polluters had gone out of business,” Grace remarked.  

Stratt nodded, “They have, but we need to ensure another climate change does not happen again. Humanity has learned all too well that Earth is the only home we have. Superluminal speed may take us to other solar systems, but even if terraforming wasn't outlawed, it would take too long to colonise a planet. We have a drastically short lifespan.” Surprisingly she smiled, “Earth has become a little more... socialist, shall we say, since you left. Well, that is broadly speaking of course.”  

“Go figure humanity starts getting along from facing near extinction,” even Grace could hear the surprise in his voice. Humans sucked at getting along... and yet the Project Hail Mary had shown that wasn't always the case. He thought about what you said in regard to nationalism, how you didn't think World War III would break out. You had been right.  

Stratt's voice broke him out of his reprieve, “Have you thought about what you want to do, Dr. Grace? Now that you're here on Earth?”  

Her question caught him off guard, making him sit up straighter. “I want to see my kid,” it was a no-brainer. I want to see the love of my life. A shiver ran through him.  

She raised one of her eyebrows, “You will stay with them then? It will be strange you know, you haven't seen Dr. L/N for seventeen years. And you will be a stranger to your daughter, too.”  

That made him grit his teeth. “That is abundantly obvious, Stratt,” he spat her name. “But what else would you expect me to do? I have already missed out on so much, I do not want to miss out on more. I will endure the discomfort.” 

For a moment she didn't say anything, simply looking him over. “I see. You will have enough money to live more than comfortably. Earth's literal saviour will get to retire in comfort.”  

“When will I see them?” He asked, exasperated.  

“They will be here the last day of your quarantine. As you can imagine Dr. L/N and your daughter will be taking some time off of work and school to spend time with you. No point in having them take off more time now to look at you through a window,” she said the last bit humorously.  

There was more than she was letting on; yes he believed her words that she only helped you because she would get something out of it, but there was more to it. “How much exactly have you been helping them out?”  

She seemed taken a back a little, though she quickly schooled her expression. “I made sure they lived a life of comfort, made sure that she could continue her life's work without pause. Well, once your daughter was old enough, of course.” Stratt looked at him in the eyes sternly then. “I watched all of your logs, and I do have to say it: I was right. You were smart enough to figure it out, and with amnesia too.”  

He scoffed humorously, “By the time I remembered everything I had already caught the Taumeoba. No point in giving up at the end.” Besides, I wouldn't let my family die, he thought bitterly. It still felt weird thinking about his family.  

“You wouldn't turn your back on Earth anyway, even if Rocky didn't have the Astrophage to spare. You're not an asshole.”  

Grace chewed on the inside of his cheek for moment. “How did Earth take the news about sentient alien life?”  

“Oh, you know, plenty of conspiracy theories out there, much like the staged moon landing theories,” her nose scrunched up with disgust. “But the scientific world is of course, amazed. As you heard from the AI Herakles, we have manged to fully decipher the entire Eridian language. Though, that was fast tracked because of you. Xenonite has been handy too.”  

The more they talked, the more his anger dissipated, much like how he was when he recorded his final goodbye to Earth before he went to save Rocky. She told him anything he wanted to know, though he was versed in most of it thanks to the information you had stored on that laptop. Luckily for Grace all his admin affairs had been put in order, they had reopened a bank account for him, removed him from the death register (that made him feel sick), organised for him to sit a written driver's test whilst in quarantine so he wouldn't have to do it later. She even said sorry to him, which was unexpected. But he found he couldn't accept her apology, not that she had been anticipating otherwise.  

****  

His nerves were shot as soon as he woke up. Today was the last day of his quarantine. Today was the day he would see you again and meet his teenage daughter for the first time. He didn't really know what to expect.  

During his quarantine he had been wearing a jumpsuit much like the ones he had been wearing on the Hail Mary. Now they had handed back his personal belongings he had brought with him from Erid. The only thing is he didn't have any jeans or regular pants during that trip, luckily they had supplied him with a pair. They even gave him a new bomber jacket, rather retro with various NASA patches about, of course including the Project Hail Mary patch. New Converse shoes to boot, the same pair as his old ones, he wondered if that was your doing. 

It was Stratt who greeted him when he was able to leave the small room he had been confided to for a week. Some security guard promptly took the bag of his belongings without a word. “Are you certain you're ready for this? Decades have passed for the both of them, your daughter will feel like a stranger.” 

That was a dumb question, he wouldn't have left Erid and made the month-long journey back to Earth if he wasn't sure. “I've never been more certain of anything in my life,” he replied truthfully.  

He was nervous as hell, though.  

“Then follow me,” Stratt said softly as she turned to go down one of the winding hallways. He walked in stride with her, inhaling a shaky breath as he tried to calm himself. “You will have to do a press conference afterward.”  

He whipped his head to look at her in disbelief, “You cannot be serious.”  

She kept looking forward. “Oh, but I am. It'll be small, I have only allowed handful of the best reporters in. You should have seen the press conference Dr. L/N had to do when her superluminal theory came out.” Abruptly she stopped to look at him, making their entourage of security stop a few paces behind them both. “You are a man who has gone deeper into space than any human has ever been. The man to make first contact with sentient life, the man who lived on another planet! Of course there will be questions.”  

Grace sighed dramatically and put his hands on his hips, “I'll answer a few, but I'd rather not waste my time on such things.”  

She nodded and resumed her walk, “That should be sufficient.” Without missing a beat she added, “It had not gone public that you were forced into the mission, for the sake of your daughter and the mother of your child I wouldn't disclose you didn't choose to go either.” 

He walked in stride with her once more, feeling uneasy at her words. He supposed that made sense, if the public knew he was a coward he of course would get backlash, but so would his family. It wouldn't be fair to you or Evie. Eventually the two of them were winding down another long hallway before Stratt paused before a door. She jerked her head towards it, offering him a smile.  

His heart was pounding in his chest so much he was worried other people would be able to hear it. He opened the door to what looked like a small garden, surrounded by walls, as if in the middle of a maze of buildings. It was autumn but felt colder than he would usually think for this time of year.  

There were two figures in the courtyard below a frozen tree, one that he recognised as you, though your back was turned to him, and the other... his daughter, Evie. She had already been facing in his direction and she let out a loud gasp as he looked over to him. “Dad?” She called out, faltering for only a moment before she ran forward. It felt surreal hearing someone call him dad, he almost didn't realise it was for him for a split second. Without registering it, Grace himself walked forward as his daughter ran into his arms, her weight hitting him with a solid thud. “Oh my god, dad!” She sobbed into his ear as she wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders, Grace firmly wrapping his arms around her torso as he picked her up, spinning around in a circle. He screwed his eyes shut as he hugged her, trying to commit it all to memory.  

He couldn't believe his teenage daughter who he had never met before was this welcoming to him, this accepting of him. The flood of emotions running through him was overwhelming. Grace held onto her tightly as he stopped spinning, letting her plant her feet firmly on the floor. She was a few feet shorter than him, so he had to bend over, but neither one lessened their grip. “Hey, Evie,” Grace said breathlessly, one of his hands cradling the back of her head tightly as he let his tears fall freely.  

It made her sob more, her shoulders shaking as she cried into the crook of his neck. “I can't believe you're here, dad!” She mumbled between cries.  

“Me neither, kiddo,” he replied, voice wrecked with emotion.  

Immediately he was overcome by a new wave of emotion he had never quite felt before. He knew right then and there he loved his daughter, loved her to pieces. Grace would do anything for her. He was having a hard time discerning exactly all the emotions that were running through him at this moment, but her knew for certain that he had never been happier. For most of his adult life Grace had always felt there was something missing, but couldn't pin it down on anything. He had always shrugged it off and thought it was because he had ruined his chance at staying in academia. But now, with his daughter in his arms, he felt something metaphorically click into place.  

They hugged each other for a long moment before Evie gingerly pulled away, he face red and splotchy from crying and the cold outdoor air. She really did look like Grace, her hair blonde like his, darker at the roots, the same shade of blue in her irises. Rocky was right, her nose was the same shape as his. But she had your mouth shape, your eyebrows. His heart clenched tightly in his chest. “I never thought I would get to meet you,” she said shyly, wiping away a hot tear with the end of her sleeve.  

That broke his heart. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, voice cracking on the nickname. He pulled her in for another hug, this one not as tight.  

“I told you that she looked like you, Dr. Grace,” came your voice a few feet away. He quickly looked over to you, you had a small smile on your face, eyes bloodshot from crying. You had more fine lines on your face, a few grey hairs on your temples. “Hello, Ryland,” you said softly.  

He breathed your name out, unable to break eye contact with you. Evie pulled away, out of the corner of his eye he could see her stepping back a little as she wiped away more tears. She simply nodded at him.  

In that same moment he stepped forward to pull you into a tight hug – he noticed your breath hitched as he got closer – much tighter than the one he had given Evie. Immediately you started to cry, as did he. “I never thought I would see you again, Ryland,” you breathed against his neck. He loosened his grip on your minutely, realising he was squeezing you a little too much, making it hard for you to breathe.  

“Thank you,” was all he said for a moment, he was relishing in the contact. No longer trying to remember what it felt like to hold you, but feeling it. Feeling you in his arms again. He let out another sob, “Thank you for bringing me home.” There were so many things racing through his head right now, so many things he wanted to say. But gratitude was in the forefront of his mind. You had done the impossible, you had brought him home. Home to a family. “Thank you for raising our daughter,” he choked out, his throat felt tight.  

He could feel your grip tighten on him for a moment. “Thank you for saving the planet!” You joked, though your laugh was cut short by a sob.  

In part, he couldn't believe this was real, it all seemed too good to be true. You clung onto each other for a long while, before he remembered the two of you weren't alone. He gingerly pulled back, though he moved his hands to cup your face. Your face was cold from the outdoor air, could feel your skin thawing beneath his hands. His eyes darted around your face, trying to see how much you had changed from his memory. He could feel his mouth hang open slightly as he took in what he was seeing, you were just as beautiful as he remembered. You just seemed more tired, a little more worn at the edges. Those fine wrinkles around your eyes told him that you still smiled, which made something in his chest bloom.  

I love you. 

God, he wanted nothing more than to tell you that. He knew for certain he still loved you, never stopped loving you. But you had experienced almost two decades without him. Your relationship wasn't frozen in time, wouldn't be like how it was on the project. He wanted to pull your face to his and kiss you slowly, kiss you intentionally. Tell you how much he missed you, how he craved you.  

All he could do was hope you'd let him have the chance to start again, a chance to be together. He couldn't help but be furious with his past self for being hesitant, for wanting to avoid heartbreak. What wasted time.  

Your eyes were also searching his face and you also reached out to cup his face, your thumbs gently swiping at his cheeks, your fingers were cold but he didn't care. “You have barely aged... you look the same,” your voice was a little louder than a whisper.  

He tried to offer you a crooked smile but couldn't quite get his mouth to cooperate. “Time dilation will do that. Though I must look different, I experienced almost eight years,” he said lightly. Grace looked over at your grey hairs, wishing that he could have been there to see the gradual changes. What a privilege it was to age, something many people were not afforded. These subtle changes in you were a physical signifier in the time that he had lost, time that you two should have spent together. He hated that physically, the two of you had not aged the same, not experienced the same time. There was still a five-year age gap between you two, but now in reverse. Not that he minded that – he just hated how unfair it all was.  

That made you let out a little huff, though no sound came out, and you dropped your hands from him. “Try experiencing seventeen,” you muttered, though there was no malice in your voice. 

That made him drop his hands from you, he could feel his face contorting in worry. “I know, I–”  

You shook your head as you cut him off, “No apologies, Ryland.” Then you looked over to Evie, reaching your hand out to her. She stepped forward and took it, then you grabbed his hand, which made Evie grab his other hand. “It's nice to have you both here, together,” you said sombrely, eyes welling up again.  

His daughter nodded frantically, “I'm glad you choose to come home, dad.” She was looking up at him shyly, but keeping eye contact with him. 

His heart fractured in his chest as he looked at her, “I'm glad to be home, sweetheart.” He gave her hand a tight squeeze. 

She flung herself forward again for another hug, burying her face into his chest. “Living on an alien planet is pretty cool too,” she said, muffled into his chest.  

Grace was able to look over Evie's head to you, giving you a real, happy smile now. “Didn't you say that makes me cool by proxy?” He joked. 

That made you let out a real laugh, though it was short.  

“I hate to be the one to ruin a family reunion, but we better get that press conference over. Then you three can be on your way to San Jose.” Came Stratt's voice from behind you, making you turn around.  

Grace noted how you gave her a bit of a scowl. If looks could kill... “I know you don't want to, Ryland. But you literally befriended an alien, we're going to get hounded by the press if you say nothing. This is a historic first,” you said the last bit with a sad smile. 

Hounded by the press? It was unnerving going from someone of insignificance to suddenly being known on an international scale. He grumbled, “Alright, but I'm not going to answer every question.” Grace put his arm around Evie's shoulders, with you walking on her opposite side. There was a twinge of anguish that ran through him when you decided to walk next to your daughter and not him. He knew it was to be expected, he didn't need to take it so personally.  

It was only a short walk to the conference room, though Grace was glad to be back indoors. On the way there he asks his daughter a few questions. He asks her if she's graduated high school yet – then asks if schools are still a thing – to which she says she will be graduating next year. You say that schooling hasn't been what they were used to, with priorities being on conservation efforts and smaller population numbers. He says he hopes graduation ceremonies are still a thing, that he'd be glad to see Evie cross the stage. Evie assures him that he is invited, he squeezes her shoulder once more as a thank you before he finally lets go of her. 

Stratt to her credit had been telling the truth, there were only about ten reporters in the small conference room, a podium at the front. Grace could feel his hands becoming clammy. Sure, he had defended his thesis and his dissertations in front of many international councils before, but this... This was a live recording in front of the world, millions if not billions would be watching him. He was bound to say something stupid.  

He thought back to his and Rocky's arrivals on Erid, how Rocky had been hounded relentlessly. At least doing a press conference like this would get some answers out there.  

You and Evie hovered near the door, Stratt had gone somewhere Grace hadn't seen. Nervously he approached the podium.  

“This is Dr. Captain Ryland Grace from Project Hail Mary. It feels surreal to be standing here, back on Earth. I am saddened my crewmates Captain Yao Li-Jie and Olesya Ilyukhina weren't afforded the same opportunity.” Letting out a shaky exhale he finishes his opening by saying, “I will keep this brief, since I have spent almost two decades in space from the point of view of Earth and I am grateful for Dr. L/N for raising our daughter when I could not. It's also because of her that I have come home, without her knowledge of superluminal speeds I would not be here.” He looks to you, “Thank you, Dr. L/N.” You tried to give him a smile, but he could tell by the way you had your hand over your heart that this was all quite emotional. 

He answered many of the questions he had been expecting, what had it been like meeting a new alien, living on an alien planet? How hard was it being the sole survivor? How did he discover the Taumeoba? How did he make the decision to save Rocky instead of returning to Earth (that one had surprised him, until the reporter told him that many of his logs were made public). No doubt a blush formed on his face at the thought of his logs going public, he had been an awkward mess trying to figure out all this astronaut stuff on the fly, with amnesia too. Though it had been made clear from what they didn't ask him that the public got heavily redacted logs, they certainly didn't know he was suffering from amnesia, or the log he had made for you.  

He quickly explains that with the help of an Alien he nicknamed Rocky that they were able to observe another life form that was keeping the Astrophage population in check – a reporter asked him how. He said he went out on a spacewalk - he gets interrupted by the reporters all gawking about him doing a spacewalk when he's not an astronaut. He shoves them off and continues, stating it was Rocky's help that the collection was a success, that without him he would have burned up in the atmosphere. When asked about how he was to return home, he states he had to help Rocky with an unforeseen contamination from the very alien organism that fed on the Astrophage, and he spent almost an Earth year living on Erid. The reporters erupt once more. He ignores them and says the rest is confidential. 

He did, however, get one question that pissed him off. It made him feel like he was back at the UNESCO conference where he called one of the leading scientists a staggering waste of carbon. “Dr. Grace, what do you make of the conspiracy theories circulating? That this whole thing was a hoax and you're a paid actor?”  

His jaw flexed tightly and he had to take a deep breath to stop himself from saying something truly damaging. “I could not care less what people with tin foil hats think. My crew died, the Eridians in Rocky's crew died.” He looked over to you and his daughter, his breath hitching. “I have missed out on raising my daughter, that is not something I would have given up. But what an insult it is – this was my life, Yao's and Ilyukhina's lives.” Once more he looks at you, you both hold eye contact and he wants nothing more than to be out of this room. “No more questions.” He states as he walks off, the reporters yelling after him.  

Both you and Evie welcome him into a hug before the three of you are escorted out of the room by security. “You did a good job, dad.” Evie said before she looked at you, you had an amused expression on your face. “I think?” She said as she looked back to her dad.  

Grace huffed out a laugh, “Thanks, kiddo.” He was still trying to get used to be called dad, he can't imagine how weird it must be for his daughter. His daughter, that also still felt weird.  

Stratt of course is in the hallway. “There will be a flight that gets you three to San Jose if you choose to.” She stood forward to Grace and extended her hand for a handshake. “Thank you Dr. Captain Grace.”  

Despite himself, he shook it. Yes, she had betrayed him, but she had been right. Surprisingly, he had been the man for the job. She had certainly tried to make up for it, making sure you and his daughter lived a life of comfort. And her influence got Project Prometheus off the ground, the only reason he is here right now. “No offence, Eva, but I hope we don't cross paths again.”  

She let herself smile at that, despite herself. Stratt then turned to shake your hand, “Congratulations on solving superluminal speed Dr. L/N.”  

Your eyebrows were creased together ever so minutely, clearly you still had some resentment towards her. But you'd both clearly collaborated over the years. “I guess this clears your conscience?” You asked, only a hint of acerbic tone in your voice.  

Stratt didn't faulter. “I did what had to be done for humanity,” she turned to Evie. “And luckily I made the right call. I have no regrets.”  

Evie simply didn't say anything, just rolled her eyes in typical teenage fashion. Stratt took that as her cue to leave, only the security guards remained with you now. The three of you make your way down the hallway with Evie in the middle once more.  

Once you reach the doors that lead outside you turn to Grace and ask him, “It has been assumed that you would like to come live with us in San Jose. We could arrange other accommodation–”  

He cuts you off, “–If it's all the same to you...” he looked down at Evie, placing a hand on her shoulder where he squeezes firmly. “I have a lot of missed time to make up for.” His daughter's eyes go glassy again, he himself can feel the pin pricks in his eyes.  

“Well, we can head off to the airport now, but do you want to travel so soon? You've been doing a lot of that the last few years.” Your voice is firm, but laced with worry.  

Grace sniffles as he nods, “I'm eager to go home. It's been too many years.”  

Home.  

Evie speaks up, “How was your home on Erid?”  

He spends the car ride explaining his time on Erid, answering any questions the two of you have. Since you still had security personnel, one who was driving the large, black SUV, it was Grace and Evie in the back. You were in the front passenger seat and would often turn around to smile at Grace. It made his heart flip.  

You had given him so much grace, so much more than he felt he deserved. All that time between you had passed and yet he felt known. Though things were certainly different between you two, he was immediately reminded of when he first moved to the Stratt Vat. How you had believed his theories, tried out his hypotheses in the lab no matter how farfetched they seemed... how welcomed you made him feel. Made him feel like he finally belonged somewhere.  

Made him feel like he truly had a home.  

He thought about the Xenonite wedding rings he had had Rokcy make him, that felt as if they were burning a hole in his pocket. One day he hoped to see what that ring looked like on your finger, how it felt when he held your hand.  

His eyes brimmed with tears again as his heart clenched in his chest. 

Author's note: I feel like this chapter isn't perfect, so I am sorry if it doesn't meet expectations, but my heart hurt writing this and I can't bare to keep trying to fix it to make it perfect! Tags (lmk if you want to be added): @shittyprofilebutfuckit @risakawamori @qardasngan @casey1-2007