tag flashing lights. tag pulsing lights. jesus chr

When Grace wakes, sticky and damp with sweat despite having kicked off all his blankets in the night, the first thought that comes to mind is a dark joke that he would never repeat: maybe we should have just let the sun dim. He's hot, and not in an "I put too many blankets on" or "I slept in too late and now the sun is shining directly on my bed" sort of way. It's, like, dead of summer in the desert hot. After years on the Hail Mary and another year spent in a biodome, he hasn't woken up sweating in a long time. In fact, most of that time, he woke up shivering from starvation and malnutrition. It's only been in the last few months that he's really gotten his health back, even if there are some things that won't ever be the same. New pains that didn't exist before, less stamina. Both of which are negligible, given that they mean he's alive to feel them. 

"Ugh," he groans, rolling over onto his side. "What's going on? Why is it so hot?" 

Who does he think he's talking to? His biodome is no longer continuously monitored at his own request: knowing that the Eridian scientists were watching his every move had freaked him out, so he'd put an end to that as soon as he was no longer at risk for sudden cardiac arrest from refeeding syndrome. 

Oh, well. Rocky will visit later--he always does--and they'll figure it out from there. In the meantime, Grace tries everything. Maybe the heat is getting trapped in his house, he thinks, so he goes outside for fresh air, only to find the artificial sunlight to be even worse. Perhaps a dip in the water will cool him off, he surmises, but when he gets to the coast, the steam clouds above the sea warn him that trying that would be ill advised.

Of all the days for Rocky to be late. 

Usually, he comes before class starts. Sometimes, he and Adrian stop by again in the evening, but he can normally count on Rocky to be knocking down his door the second he wakes up. He must be busy. It took him a long time to feel ready to back off the biodome duty and get back to work, but he's been easing into it. It's been good for him to have something to do, and Adrian has appreciated the fact that he has topics to talk about that aren't Grace. In fact, it's even improved Grace's relationship with Adrian. They no longer feel like an afterthought to Rocky, and gave Grace a chance. They hit it off, and the three of them have gotten really close, recently.  

The fact that Rocky doesn't stop by in the morning means that he's going to have to teach in this heat. It's not the worst condition he's ever taught in: substitutes are difficult to find last minute, and it's often easier to just suck it up and go to work. He's fought through nausea and chills and fevers, just like any other teacher. It'll be okay. All he has to do is pull up a chair and try not to move, if he can help it. 

At first, he reasons that he'll be cooler if he shed his blazer and wears white to deflect the sun, but his arms are turning pink by the time he's finished sorting through his lesson plan and setting up the planetary model, so he reluctantly dons it. He loosens his tie, grateful that he's the only one who really cares about dress code. Eridians don't even wear clothes with any regularity. They can, and some do, wear little shirts or socks, but from what Grace has gathered, it's personal preference. 

Students file in in groups of twos and threes, chatting about god knows what. Grace's Eridian is getting better, but he definitely can't understand anything when more than one person is speaking at a time. They take their seats, turning their attention toward him as he greets the group. 

"Morning, everybody!" he says, trying for cheerful. He always overshoots when he isn't feeling well, and it comes out slightly off putting. "Go ahead and take your seats."

As time goes on, it becomes clear that sitting is not enough. Is it getting hotter? He can't tell, but he wouldn't be surprised. Over the course of one class, he goes from sweaty and sticky to nauseous and cramping, all topped off with a raging headache. Again, he's used to powering through that sort of thing, but a man has to have limits. Usually, he can take a generous dose of cold medicine and show a movie. This is actively getting worse the longer the relentless sun beats down on his head. He doesn't realize he's practically doubled over in his chair until he has to sit up to gesture behind him and a cramp rips through his abdomen so sharply that he cries out in pain. 

"Mr. Grace?" one of his students calls. His eyes focus just long enough to make out that several of them are pressed up against the barrier, clearly scared that something is wrong. 

"It's fine," he manages, cloying and tight. "I think I'm going to let you guys go a little early today. Sound okay?" 

"Something is wrong, question?" 

"Nah, no worries. I just thought you'd like an early start to the weekend." 

"In middle of lesson, question?" someone else asks. Darn it. His kids on Earth would be out the door before he could turn around, if he gave them this chance. 

"Uh, yeah. We'll pick it up where we left off, okay? Don't forget." 

Because he's being so strangely insistent, they do obey, slowly gathering their things and exiting the classroom, grumbling and gossiping as they go. This time, he's grateful he doesn't understand what they're saying. 

The two water pouches he'd brought with him from home are long gone, and he knows he needs another, probably more than one. However, home is so far away. He can see it from where he's sitting, but the idea of standing is daunting. He knows he probably should have told his students to get help, but he didn't want to worry them, nor answer the hundred questions that would be sure to follow a statement like, "hey, my habitat is, like, twice as hot as it's supposed to be, can we check on that?" 

He tries to make it all the way home, he does, but the overwhelming heat and outstanding gravity pulling him down are too much. It comes down to a decision between settling for shade under the tree and potentially collapsing trying to make it the rest of the way to the house, so he decides to do the marginally safer thing and hide out in the shade until Rocky comes to visit. 

By the time he shows up, Grace has surpassed "uncomfortably hot" and driven straight into "intolerably boiling" town. He's not sure how long he's been laying there. Consciousness has been coming and going. He can barely see straight when Rocky bounds up to him in his suit. 

"Grace!" he exclaims cheerfully. Apparently, he doesn't immediately notice that he's sprawled out starfish style. At first, he thinks Rocky is politely ignoring the excessive leaking, but upon consideration, realizes that he's stopped sweating, and the hot sun has dried his clothes. That's not good. "Apology for running late. Ran into problem at work, but is fixed now. How was class, question?"

"Uh," he replies stupidly, "hey, Rock." 

"Hi, Grace," he greets. "You are okay, question? Lying on ground outside. Unusual." 

"Something's wrong with the biodome," he replies. "S'really hot."

"Hot?" Rocky echoes. "Okay. Will let scientists know that dome is not comfortable temperature for Grace. They will work on this." 

"No, that's not--I mean, it's really hot." 

Rocky hesitates, slowly gathering evidence. Grace is slurring his words, lying flat on the ground outside, not sitting up to look at him like he usually does. He wishes he had the words to explain it better, but his thoughts feel heavy and far away. 

"Heat is dangerous," he guesses. Grace nods. "Why didn't you say that!"

"Sorry. The heat... brain's not working like it should."

"Rocky will call Adrian. Wait here. Return in just a minute." Their radios have been having a very hard time getting calls through the xenonite dome, so Grace hasn't had any reliable way of communicating with Rocky, or even the science team, for that matter. Rocky has to leave the dome to get a signal. While he's gone, Grace's stomach twists. He'd been so close to sleep that he hadn't had much time to focus on the nausea, but now that he's awake, it's hitting him full force. With a jolt, he jerks upright and scrambles halfway to his feet, stumbling to the side to throw up in the sand. There's nothing in his stomach--he'd skipped breakfast and has surely sweat out any liquid he's consumed since this morning. He's still hunched over and coughing when Rocky comes back and screeches. 

"Grace!" Though Grace knows from experience that Rocky finds it repulsive when he leaks from his mouth (and in his defense, he's not wrong), he wastes no time rushing to his side in his suit and helping him ease back into a seated position. It must be really bad if Rocky is touching him so soon after he's vomited. On the Hail Mary, when he'd been trying and failing to hold down the taumoeba and coma slurry, he hid as far away from the noise as he could, half from disgust and half to give Grace privacy. Neither are a concern, right now. 

"Grace breathe. Is okay. Adrian is on the way with science team, will fix temperature settings soon. Grace need water. No move, Rocky bring." He hurries off to do so, leaving Grace leaning bonelessly against the tree behind him. The sand is hot, even in the shade, even through his clothes. He blinks, and Rocky is standing in front of him with several water pouches in hand, seemingly as many as he'd been able to carry. 

"Drink," he commands, pressing the straw to his lips. Grace does so reflexively, choking after a few swallows and pulling away. "Drink into stomach, not lungs." 

"Sorry," he snaps, snatching away the pouch to hold it himself. 

"Grace is agitated," he frets, a word he learned when Grace was starving and felt so guilty for being "grumpy angry stupid" that Rocky had to find different, less accusatory words to describe his emotional states. 

"Sorry."

"No apology. Sign of distress." Rocky presses his claw gently to Grace's cheek, the glassy surface cool on his skin. Even as thin as his suit is, the xenonite is a good insulator. Grace leans into the touch. "Adrian on their way. Grace hold on little longer. Will fix dome settings soon. Grace can hold on that long?"

"Kay," he replies, a response that almost lines up with the question being asked. "Keep your hand there? Feels nice."