Ryland Grace is standing in her office.
He's breathing slightly too hard, nails sinking into his clenched hands.
There's a shuddering to him, like a man staring down a barrel of a gun.
Not inaccurate, given their circumstances.
"I-I need you to coma me early."
He's shaking, from fear this time. This Ryland Grace is more the one she has come to know. Still wrong and distorted but closer.
She raises an eyebrow at him, "Why?"
"Cause, cause, I'll change my mind if you don't."
He straightens up, fear mixing with determination in his eyes.
He drops his gaze from hers to the floor, "Please, Eva."
She can, she has the resources and the time to induce his coma early, had prepped for it in case of his refusal. She has no real reason to refuse him.
Something in her wants to.
Something in her wants him to stay, both so she can tear apart the mystery of whoever this new Grace is and, selfishly, so he stays for a bit longer.
Eva's wants are inconsequential. The world is all that matters.
She pushes herself out of her chair and gestures to him.
He startles, like a spooked deer.
He looks even more nervous as they walk through the halls of the complex.
Eva sighs, then loops her arm through his.
They walk, arm in arm to the medical room.
He babbles as they walk, "Um, C-can you make sure they double check the systems for the care during the comas?"
For being so intelligent, her-
She has no right to claim Ryland Grace.
She had no right before and certainly has none now.
She walks him to his death after all.
Perhaps this change is her miracle.
That God had taken mercy and given her this one comfort.
That Grace and her would walk to his death arm in arm, that he would go willingly, lay his head upon the altar, angry and scared but walking beside her. Rather than kicking and screaming, forcing her to bloody her hands one more time, making it harder than it has to be, harder than it already was.
Her sacrificial lamb, her science officer, her second.
They walk in and Grace sits on one of the chairs, still shaking.
"D-Does it have to be a needle? I don't-", he swallows, "do well with needles".
His hand rubs the back of his neck.
It does, unfortunately, and she tells him that.
He just nods as the doctor walks into the room.
He's shaking in full force, eyes darting to the windows, cataloging exit points.
No. They cannot have him run.
She sits beside him, entwining their arms, holding his hand. A restraint, but also a comfort.
He startles, both from her actions and from the doctor starting to wipe down his arm.
She hesitates, then quietly, starts to sing to him.
Before the explosion, before Grace was doomed to die.
The crew had been happy. And she had been alone.
Grace had sought her out, as he always did.
One show of humanity, one moment to grieve, one goodbye.
"Just stop your crying, it's a sign of the times.."
A makeshift funeral dirge.
A lullaby for a bleating lamb.
The world blurs out, tunneling down to just Grace.
He lets out one desperate, choked sob as the needle enters his arm.
He starts to slump and she catches him.
He grasps at her, desperate.
He's still awake and aware and will be for a few more seconds.
"You will be a hero. I will ensure it."
She says, both to him and the ceiling.
He goes boneless in her arms, fully sedated.
She stumbles through a prayer, both for his and the crew safety and to God for giving her this.
She passes his body to the doctor, as the process to prepare him starts beyond the doors of this room.
"Ensure I am not disturbed. And never speak of this."
The doctor nods, then carries the body of Ryland Grace away.
She takes five minutes, then gets back to work.
