NightfuryObsessed

"Oh, ye of little faith," the blonde haired man said with a laugh, turning and not noticing just how much Simon flinched and started shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

Then he jumped as the screens flashed to life. But instead of the black and yellow screens he was used to, Simon watched in awe as the screens filled with scenery. This one was a green field, white clouds floating in the 'sky' and a sudden yet calming breeze blowing his hair into his face.

"The scientists made this place to help the teams mental health. Looking at just blank walls for months, or in my case years, takes a toll on the mind. Makes you see or hear things that aren't there," Grace explains, readjusting his classes to hang from his ear and chin once again.

Yes. Simon knew that problem first hand. He still had no idea what was real down there and what was his mind and concussions.

"Do you...do you have trees," Simon asks wistfully, still staring at the screens. He knew this wasn't real. It was just screens and a large fan or two. But he wanted to believe. To pretend that he was on Earth, a place he had never visited, but felt so natural to long for.

A home he had never seen.

----

Simon crawled through the hatch and grunted as he pulled himself up. He grunted as he sat up, looking at the dark screens. He had wanted to do this the moment he saw Grace change scenery. If they had every piece of media and all photos in humanity's history, he could see home. His true home.

Simon searched through the computer, doing his best with his mutated claw that stained the keys red, before seeing that one, four letter word.

"Mars," he says with a relieved, nostalgic tone. This was home.

Simon had been born on Mars, in a small settlement that had just one farm that did its best to provide for the people. He knew everyone from the settlement, Mary the farmer who had tought him how to sew seeds. Isaac who helped work on the warning systems for dust storms. His mother, eomma, who protected him from harm.

How long has it been since he saw that settlement? He was about eight when he and his mother joined Eden. How old was he now? Grace said somewhere in his thirties?

How much time was missing from Simon's memories.

He blinked as he pulled the images onto the screens, the room becoming warm and comforting. This was the temperature he was used to. Not the cold emptiness of space, not the boiling heat of the Blood Ocean. The warmth of the sun shining on the planet, close and warm and comforting.

But then he looked around.

"That's not right," he muttered was he walked around the room, eventually standing next to the screens and moved a hand along them, moving the inage. "Where's the siren?"

The sirens were important, they warned the Martians of the deadly dust storms approaching and told them to go underground or inside. But it was gone.

"Did they break? Isaac wouldn't have let that happen."

Simon continued moving the scenery, trying to find any hints of the settlement or their farm. Anything man made.

He was so distracted he didn't notice the ball that rolled into the room or the voice that asked what he was doing. It was late after all, Grace was asleep and Simon should be too.

"It...it's not here," Simon says in disbelief, voice breaking at the end of his word as he stood where his home once was. He remembered the typography of his home. It should be here, right where he was standing. But there was nothing. No broken glass, no faded stepping stone, no metal foundations...nothing.

"What Simon look at, question."

Simon took in a shakey surprised breathe, teeth rising in anger as bloody tears welled in his red and brown eyes.

"M-my home," he croaked, hands balling into fists as he braced his legs and lowered himself to the ground, crouching as his back curled, the vertebrae in his spine elongating into spines, yet didn't break through his skin. He was angry, but more than angry he was distraught.

"Mars home planet, question."

Simon looked down at the rock-like alien, seeing more and more of his home in this creature. While not exact, the coloration of Rocky reminded him of the formations on Mars. Dull browns, bright reds, some black, cracks and bumps here and there from weather and manipulation.

Simon let out a noise of sorrow, a mix of multiple souls pain and anguish, as he fell to his knees and held his head in his hands.

Simon could never go home. Home didn't exist here.

Simon will never have a home, mearly drifting through space. Adrift and alone.