Bloom

"This is your fault, y'know."

Astra's voice broke through the silence, her tone holding no vexation even with the accusatory statement, only exhaustion. She didn't spare him a glance, focused on the task that was currently laid across her lap. Her deft fingers worked around the bandages, wounding them around and underneath unruly strands of dirty blonde hair.

Turns out Grace had either knocked himself out when he hit his head, or passed out from sheer terror. She'd argue it was a mix of both. He didn't hit his head hard enough to cause trauma, save for a bloody scrape across his skin, and he looked on the verge of fainting from the sight of Simon alone.

Which was a fair reaction in her eyes. Seeing the large, muscled frame of a deranged looking man smeared in blood and missing an arm was a sight that'd send most people running—or in this case tumbling off a platform.

Ever so delicately she applied a layer of adhesive wrap, keeping the bandages in place before she brushed his messy, dirty blonde locks over top of it. She moved Grace's head off her lap, instead resting it on top of the random pillow and blanket that was in the lab.

Content with her work, her gaze finally returned to Simon, who was already watching with furrowed brows. Those dark brown eyes were uncertain, switching between staring daggers at the blonde scientist and gazing worriedly at the auburn-haired woman sat beside him. The distrust he emanated was palpable, his muscles tense and posture guarded, as if something bad would happen the minute Grace woke up.

He didn't say anything, having remained eerily silent ever since she explained their situation. It wasn't hard to read his expression, to visualize the gears turning inside his head, desperate to make sense of this outcome yet failing miserably. There was a fleeting moment of relief at first, an acknowledgment of how lucky they were to escape death's clutches. However, it was quickly overpowered by the paranoia of being stranded in an unknown place with a complete stranger.

With a sigh Astra hoisted herself up, causing his attention to shift to her approaching form. Wordlessly she slumped down on his right side—the one with his remaining arm, a reminder that brought a frown to her lips. Her hand found his, setting them on her lap while her fingers intertwined with his own.

"How are you feeling?" It was a broad question, one that could have multiple different answers to it. She didn't mind whichever one he answered to, seeking to provide any comfort she could to his reeling mind.

Simon stayed quiet, yet his fingers easily laced with her own, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away. His head fell backwards against the wall, staring off at the ceiling as he struggled to form a response that conveyed the tidal wave of emotions he was experiencing.

Waking up to that cluster of robot arms had been jarring, even worse when he realized he was missing one of his own. It was horrifying how he could still feel it, his brain sending signals to move his left hand but only able to wiggle around the stub that cut off at his bicep. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't close to crying, a burn behind his eyes that was worsening by the second.

He was stressed and irritated, that automated voice continuously ringing in his ears, unable to let him breathe for one fucking second. Simon was ready to throw the nearest object at it, except the sight of another empty bed halted his actions, the blood stains along it triggering an alarming fact in his already overwhelmed brain.

Astra.

The minute her name popped into his mind, he was hurling himself off the bed in a panic, ignoring the protests from the robot above and the way his body screamed in pain.

At first he struggled to come to terms with the fact he was alive. He was more than certain that the submarine had been shredded to pieces, and he was either ripped apart with it or drowned in blood—maybe a mixture of both, according to his lost arm.

Now he was realizing he wasn't alone when that happened, and yet said person was no where to be found.

Astra couldn't be dead. He refused to accept that, because what a cruel, sick fucking joke that fate would decide to give him a second chance at life, at freedom, yet tear the very thing that gave him hope for so long away from his fingertips to do so.

No, she was alive. She had to be.

The fear gripping at his chest was so tight it knocked the wind out of him, leaving him panting for breath when he stumbled out of the room. Under normal circumstances he would've been more cautious of his new surroundings, knowing that he could've been aboard a ship with dangerous people on it. Right now however, all that was leading him was the pit of dread in his stomach and the rawness in his throat that threatened to spill over if he didn't find her soon.

Everything was spiraling. He couldn't focus, couldn't breathe, could hear his own heartbeat racing and the throb of his head like a hammer slamming into his skull. It was hard to listen over the blood roaring in his ears, but he managed to hear it anyway—the faint sound of a voice chattering away, distinctly male.

Worry twisted into unbridled anger, blinding every other emotion as it ran through his veins like molten lava. Abhorrent scenarios popped into his head, fueling the fire burning inside him as he stormed in that direction, blood-coated boots thundering across the floor with only one thought in mind now.

He shouldn't have jumped to conclusions so fast, shouldn't have stomped in there like he was about to take someone's head clean off. Though, admittedly, that was the only plan he had at the time.

Once he spotted the head of blonde hair he bristled, alarm bells ringing loudly in his head at the sight of an unfamiliar face. Then she turned around, and all those thoughts vanished without a trace, relief flooding his body to the point he could've cried.

Except he didn't, too riled up from his own rage to calm down. Instead he directed his attention to the tall man beside her, who looked at him like he was actively staring down the barrel of a gun.

Simon wouldn't admit it, but he felt a sliver of satisfaction when Grace hit the floor. To him, it was deserved for making him wake up alone in a frenzy. There was also something else, an unpleasant tug in his chest from the scene of them leaning against one another, one he chose to shove down.

The anger had settled, though his mind remained a muddled mess, struggling to grasp how any of this was possible.

A long, heavy sigh left him as his eyes fell shut, his eyebrows pinching together. "I don't know." That was the best response he could give, unable to describe what he was feeling with anything else.

Astra nibbled on her bottom lip, gaze locked on their hands as she internally debated with herself. "Okay... Let's start with anything physical. How's your pain? Especially with your, uhm, lack of an arm?"

A huff of a laugh escaped him from her awkward phrasing. "I feel like shit, and it's... weird. It's like it's still there, but there's nothing." He mumbled, his left shoulder shifting as if his arm was moving beside him. "And it fucking hurts, too. It shouldn't when there's nothing there to even feel."

"Phantom limb pain. It's when the brain continues to process signals from the missing limb. The nervous systems connection is still there, even if the nerves aren't." Astra explained, giving a light, reassuring squeeze to his hand in her lap. "It might take a while for your body to adjust. Until then, you'll likely feel different sensations, as if your arm was never gone." There was a brief pause, then she added on. "Stress and fatigue can make it worse."

Simon scoffed at that last part, clearly not pleased with that extra tidbit of information. "I guess it's not going away anytime soon, then."

"Maybe if Rocky were here, he could've made you a cool new arm." She tried to lighten the mood, only to see his face scrunch up from her peripheral. She turned her head towards him with a raised eyebrow. "What's that face for?"

Simon tilted his head down, glancing at Astra then the sleeping body across the room from them, his jaw clenching. "You shouldn't believe what he says so easily."

Almost immediately she rolled her eyes. She should've known he'd be less willing to trust Grace, she knew from experience that he was a tough shell to crack. But she couldn't help the frustration from sinking in at his resistance.

To Simon, everyone was a potential threat until proven otherwise—years of isolation and cruel treatment from the C.O.I. guards likely had a hand in heightening that paranoia. She could understand his hesitation, that he'd need time to process and adapt, she did as well. But at the same time she found it a little ridiculous how doubtful he was being, especially when it came to who they were talking about.

Grace, out of all the people she's met in her life, was an embodiment of innocence. He was basically a golden retriever trapped in a human's body.

"You really think Grace is a threat? He freaked out at the mere sight of you." She pointed out, making a sound that was between a scoff and a laugh. At that, Simon's stern expression faltered and he glanced away with a huff—to her, a non-verbal surrender. "Thought so. Listen, we can discuss our situation when he wakes up if you need further convincing. For now, I think you need a warm shower to relax for a bit, and a change of clothes. Sound good?"

While he wasn't fully convinced, all it took was one look at the pleading smile on her lips and that hopeful gleam in her mismatched irises before he caved. He shoved those doubts into the back of his mind, a long, shaky breath leaving through his nose as he gave a careful squeeze to her palm.

"..Alright, sure." He murmured after a pause, not sounding too thrilled about it, but not outright rejecting the idea. He needed out of these disgusting clothes, anyway.

"Good! I can show you where the bathroom is, then try to figure out where the extra clothes are." While she spoke she stood up, using her grip on his hand to help him up with her. "Follow me."

She ended up doing those steps in the opposite order, due to an insistent Simon who refused to let go of her hand, as if she would disappear as soon as he did so. She didn't mind, going through the motions of finding the duffle bags with clothes, assuming the one she found was Grace's judging by the graphic t-shirts inside. Hopefully he wouldn't mind lending more clothes for Simon's sake, cause like herself his outfit was destroyed, save for the boots.

After that she took a minute to remember where the bathroom was, taking the lead while she dragged Simon by their interlocked hands. Once there she set the clothes inside and went to shuffle out of the small space, only for his grip to tighten.

Astra sent him a questioning look, to which his gaze fell away from her own. "Uh, where are you gonna be while I..?" His voice was uncharacteristically small, a subtle yet noticeable tremble to each word.

Her gaze softened, quickly picking up on what he was worried about. "I'll wait outside the door for you until you're finished, okay? I'll be right there if you need anything."

Hearing her say that was like a weight lifted off his shoulders, his body visibly relaxing at the thought of her being nearby. That's all the reassurance he needed. "Okay."

Before he slipped into the bathroom, he slid off his bracelet and handed to her, mumbling something about her, "Keeping it safe for him." She took it with utmost delicacy, cradling a precious part of him that he entrusted with her, her thumb gently rubbing over the glass pendant. There was a crack in it, breaking off into smaller fractures like roots growing from a tree—she'd have to see if Grace had anything to repair it with later.

Astra kept her promise, remaining seated across the bathroom door with her back propped against the wall. She closed her eyes, letting her mind wander off while listening to the sound of the water running.

By the time Simon was done cleaning up, she swore only ten minutes had passed. Unlike herself, who had spent about half an hour basking in the warmth of the water sprinkling on her bare skin, he didn't appear to find as much comfort from it.

Her mismatched eyes flickered over his form as he stepped outside, a smile twitching at the corners of her lips. On him was a black shirt that read, I had potential, with a depiction of a ball at the bottom of a curve. It was a little tight for his muscled figure, but it'd have to do.

Astra hopped up from her sitting position, a hand extended outwards with the bracelet hanging from it. "Feeling more relaxed now?" She asked, her smile widening as he gently grabbed the bracelet with a begrudging mumble of confirmation. "Good! Come with me so Armando can give you some more morphine for your pain. I'll redo your bandages."

Simon pulled a face, slowly falling into step with her as they trailed back to the room they woke up in. "That thing creeps me out."

She hummed, her face scrunching up in a way that showed she wasn't too enthusiastic about seeing the robot, either. "Me too, but I think it's the only thing on this ship that can admister any type of medication. Sooo..."

They tried to make it quick, allowing the cluster of robot arms to give him a shot of morphine before heading back to the lab area. When they arrived Grace was still out like a light, which she found a little worrisome, given he was reaching a time frame that could indicate a moderate brain injury. Though, she supposed his prolonged unconscious state could be due to his mentioned sleep deprivation, too.

She hoped it was more so the latter, but neither was life-threatening, so he should be fine. Hopefully he'd gain consciousness soon so she could check him over.

As they entered a small, bright green bag with various colors dotted on it caught her eye. She lit up, scooping up the bag half-full of those tiny, round candies and wordlessly holding them out towards Simon. In return, he fixed her with a squinted, quizzical stare.

"It's candy. Grace gave me them along with some noodles, but I'm not sure where the food is stored. So you can have these in the meantime." She offered with a shrug, figuring it was better than nothing while they waited.

Simon eyed the colorful bag, carefully plucking them out of her hand. For a moment he simply stared, observing the small candies inside while she ran off. In her rush to patch up Grace's head earlier, she had left the rest of the medical kit behind in the bathroom.

When she came back, she walked in right as Simon popped one in his mouth, the bag set aside on a table. His face twisted unpleasantly, the small candy getting spit out nearly the second after it hit his tongue.

"Ugh, those are awful! Why're they so acidic?" He complained, glaring down at the round, red candy on the floor as if it had personally offended him.

A burst of laughter escaped her, unable to contain her giggles even as her hand tried to muffle them. "You don't like them? I thought they were good, a nice combination of sour and sweetness."

His gaze shifted to her, expression entirely blank as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'd rather starve than eat that." He deadpanned.

She snorted and rolled her eyes at him. "You're dramatic. C'mere, let me bandage your arms back up. Did you have anything else that needed new stitching, disinfecting or bandaging?" She listed off, settling on the floor with the med-kit next to her.

He went to sit beside her with a grunt, the once simple action taking longer than usual due to his off-center balance. "No, don't think so. Everything else looked fine to me."

"Hm. I'll run a check up on you tomorrow to make sure you're telling the truth." Her voice was teasing, a smirk on her lips as she retrieved a roll of bandages, scissors and adhesive wrap.

Simon rose an eyebrow, his dark brown eyes narrowing on her. "You don't trust me?" He asked, pretending to be wounded by her implication.

She shook her head, her smile growing as she scooted closer to him with the supplies in hand. "After you lied in the submarine and had me using up nearly all the bandages on myself? No, not completely."

"Fair point." He hummed, though he didn't look apologetic about it in the slightest. Had he been faced with the option again, he still would've prioritized her well-being over himself.

After all, it was his fault she was stuck in that metal death trap with him in the first place. Keeping her safe despite their inevitable demise was the least he could do. He would've done anything for her if he had the power, anything to rid of the guilt eating him alive.

It was there even now, silently sitting in the pit of his stomach like a rock, in spite of their inexplicable second chance.

She deserved more.

Astra stayed silent after that, though a fraction of a smile remained while she got to work on bandaging his residual limb. With his remaining one, she had to apply some steroid cream, given the severe radiation burns along his forearm. She had a couple as well, though hers were more of a red, itchy patch on her skin, having had less exposure to the x-ray camera than himself. She warned him not to press it so much, but he didn't listen.

"That robot did a damn good job of fixing you up. I'm not sure I would've known how to do a surgical procedure like that." She remarked while putting the remaining supplies back into the medical kit.

Simon made a noise in objection, shifting around his left shoulder and wincing at the pain that shot across there—clearly the morphine hadn't kicked in yet. "Doesn't feel like it did a good job, fucking hurts like hell. Shouldn't the pain go away already?"

"You lost an entire limb, Simon. It's going to hurt for a while, even with medication. You can't be impatient when it comes to healing." Astra replied, a blank look on her face from his complaining. "Now, let me see the scrapes and bruises on your face. I'll put a little cream on those, too."

She was already dipping her fingers in the jar with her left hand, the other raising to cup along the bottom of his scruffy jaw. Except she paused, feeling a different texture beneath her fingers other than the rough patch of skin and the scratchy hairs of his beard. No, this was hard, smooth and sharp at the end—not an injury, but something else entirely.

With furrowed brows she turned her head upwards to scan over his face, only for her mismatched eyes to widen. Her lips parted, attempting and failing to verbalize what she was seeing, sputtering over the syllables in an incomprehensible manner.

Simon's brown eyes quickly scanned over her countenance, the combination of shock, horror and fascination sending mixed signals to his brain. "What? What's wrong? Why're you making that face?" The words left him in a rush, panic starting to creep in from her strange behavior.

Astra didn't speak right away, tilting his head to the side to get a better look. Despite the worry etched into his facial features, he was pliable to her touch, the only thing grounding him at that very moment. Her fingers slid upwards with delicacy, brushing away some locks of hair to view the newfound discovery.

After a minute passed she finally broke the tense silence, blinking rapidly and stumbling over her words. "Uhm, it's a– it's definitely something... Something I've never seen before from a medical standpoint." She squinted, leaning closer to confirm her own eyes weren't tricking her. "Are those... canine teeth..?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" He blurted out, taken aback by the words coming out of her mouth. Clumsy with nerves, he quickly raised a hand up to touch the area she had. The regret hit him the minute he did so. "What the fuck?! What the— There's no fucking way this is—"

Alarms were blaring in his head at the feeling beneath his fingertips, getting poked by the pointed edges of teeth that appeared to be growing out of his cheek. The inside of his mouth stayed normal, each tooth the same as he prodded at them with his tongue. That was a relief at the very least, but it didn't diminish his rising panic from whatever the fuck was happening on the outside of his face.

His hand was shoved away, so that both of her own could grab either side of his face and bring him closer. "Stay still! I need to examine your face more, cause I think..." She trailed off, making eye contact with him first, then shifting her attention towards the left side of his head. "Your left iris looks like it's shifting to red, and your ear appears to be growing... fin spines?"

Great. That extra examination didn't make him feel better in the slightest.

Simon grabbed her wrist, his grip tightening around there like a physical anchor to keep his mind from spiraling out of control. "So I'm turning into some fucking fish monster, or what?" He rushed out, struggling to keep his voice calm as it began to waver.

The expression Astra wore was uncertain, her arm lowering until her hand rested on his thigh, allowing him to keep his hold on her. Some form of realization was slowly settling in, her furrowed eyebrows raising, her squinted eyes widening and her pursed lips parting in a small 'o' shape.

"I– I don't know exactly, but it has to be some kind of mutation effect from the blood. Now that I think about it, my spine did feel a little bumpy when I was in the shower..." With her free hand she went to reach behind her, searching underneath the cardigan and shirt she wore until her mouth dropped open in disbelief. "Oh my god."

Once again his panic flared, his body jolting forward on instinct. "What is it? Let me see." His tone was hasty, his hand leaving her wrist to grab at her side and usher her around, not giving her a chance to explain.

She complied, sliding off the cardigan and tossing it aside as she turned around. Her auburn hair was swiped over one shoulder before she grabbed both sides of the shirt at the hem, lifting the fabric up until it was bunched around her chest.

There was pure silence, to where she could only hear her erratic heartbeat pounding in her eardrums. Her lungs were constricting, squeezing painfully in her chest as she waited with bated breath.

When the anxiety twisting in her stomach became too much to bare, she broke the silence, her voice a heavy whisper. "Am I– Are there... fins or anything growing along my back..?"

The quiet remained, accompanied by a gentle touch across her back. An involuntary breath left her, a shiver running down her spine as his warm, calloused palm trailed up, fingers tracing around the sensitive area of her back as if he were afraid to hurt her.

She could feel it, both from the way he skimmed around them and the new nerve-endings that connected her to them. It wasn't particularly troubling, at least not in the sense that it would affect her, but rather if it was going to keep growing. That's where her dread stemmed from, the idea that these mutations wouldn't stop until they became whatever attacked them in the blood ocean.

Now the apprehension was really getting to her. She was this close to throwing up her noodles from earlier.

Simon heard her scattered breathing, leading him to finally sputter out an answer that was as bewildered as she felt. "It, uh– it looks that way. Yeah..."

She spared a glance over her shoulder, her gaze meeting his own as it snapped upwards, the same concern reflected in both. His hand rested on the side of her lower back, a subconscious action that would've normally flustered her, had her brain not been in a frenzy over this horrifying revelation.

With a deep breath through her nose and out her mouth, she went to speak, except a low groan beat her to it.

Their attention snapped over to the source, seeing a disheveled and disoriented Grace rising from his pillow and blanket on the floor. His hair was a mess and the glasses on his face were askew, not bothering to fix either as his dazed eyes searched around the lab in confusion.

"Wha– What's going on? God, my head hurts..." Another groan left him, his hand raising to soothe the throbbing ache at the back of his skull.

It took him a solid minute to focus, for his blurry gaze to register the sight that was before him after he lazily adjusted the glasses to rest on the bridge of his nose. He blinked, blue eyes flickering back and forth between the two who looked like deers caught in headlights.

Then his eyes trailed lower, noticing the fox cardigan had been discarded. Astra's hands were lifting the fabric of her shirt halfway up her body to reveal the pale, freckled skin of her back, stomach and a sliver of her chest from below. All while Simon's hand rested dangerously low along her back, his own figure now adorned with a graphic t-shirt of his that hugged his muscled form a little too tightly.

For a minute Grace simply stared, blinking a couple of times until his eyes and brain finally caught up on what he was seeing. Two people he just met – very attractive ones, at that – sitting a few feet away, looking like they were about to—

Oh.

Oh.

His face exploded in red, every ounce of blood in his body either rushing up there or lower, despite how loudly his own mind was screaming at himself.

His hands fumbled to cover his face, uncaring to the glasses he knocked off as he was more concerned with shielding his eyes. "I– I'm sorry! Am I interrupting something? I mean, obviously I am, god— I'm so sorry, I wasn't expecting you two to, well, y'know—"

"We're mutating."

Oh, okay. So not the other thing. That's good, then he didn't end up—

Wait a minute. What did she say?

Grace peeked at her from behind his fingers, able to feel the heat radiating off of his own face. He did a double-take, eyes flickering to the exposed section of her skin to see what she meant, having missed it in his own daze. There was definitely something poking out from her spine, similar to tiny dorsal fins.

He watched Astra shove her shirt back down, much to his relief and disappointment—that other part of himself needed to shut up before he melted into a shameful puddle.

"There's canine teeth growing out of Simon's cheek, his eye is turning red, and his ear has fin spines. My back also seems to be growing fins, right along the spine." Astra hurriedly explained, her fingers fidgeting in her lap as she glanced back and forth between the two men. "It's likely some kind of mutation from the blood ocean, but I'm not sure to what extent it'll go to."

Slowly his hands fell away from his face, the heat from earlier persisting as a red dusting across his cheeks. He pushed himself into a proper sitting position, ignoring the dull ache of his head as he reached to grab his fallen glasses and put them back on.

"I mean, the best we can do is monitor your symptoms. It could be spreading through your bloodstream and altering the DNA sequence of the blood cells as they multiply and cause more genetic mutations." He stated as a possibility, only to backpedal when he was met with two distinct expressions—a knowing grimace and a dissatisfied scowl. "Or– or there's a possibility it only affected certain parts of your body by inserting a nucleotide that wasn't there before, and that's all it got to do before you magically poofed into existence here, and the remaining mutated cells... Poof, dissappeared after that?"

That didn't sound logical in the slightest, but then again, nothing about this situation was. Two people from a separate dimension, transported to this one – on the Hail Mary that was light-years from Earth, no less – after almost dying to the depths of an ocean made of blood and some horrifying, mutated monster that wanted to devour them.

Maybe it was okay if his rationale was flawed in that regard, even more so when Astra's troubled expression eased back to normal at the sliver of hope it provided. As for Simon, he couldn't really tell if he was relieved or not with his consistently gloomy demeanor.

Grace scratched at the back of his neck, a nervous habit driven by the dark stare that was burning a hole into his head. "Just throwing out ideas here. I'm not exactly familiar with how an ocean of blood mutates people, or any mutations of this sort, for that matter."

Astra was quick chime in, seeing as Grace's inhibition was worsening under the weight of Simon's relentless glower. If she hadn't felt bad for his current well-being, she would've smacked him on the back of the head.

"We'll do that. We can keep observing for any progression or changes, and hopefully it ends up being the latter." She decided with a nod, before her eyebrows pinched together in thought. "We never studied any mutations from the blood ocean at the C.O.I., or at least we never recorded any external alterations to the body. Only internal, which was, uhm..." She didn't finish her sentence, though the wince she gave spoke volumes.

Even without the knowledge of how these new mutations worked, the overwhelming reminder of those researchers from the SM-8 and what happened to them was plenty reason for her to feel perturbed about it. The single failed experiment they had at the C.O.I. that first labeled the substance of the blood ocean as dangerous didn't help ease her nerves much, either.

For now, she tried not to think about it. There was no use in losing her mind over something she had no control over.

She shook her head, directing her attention back to Grace with a ghost of a smile. "Nevermind, it's not important. I'm just glad to know that brain of yours is still working. Had me worried with how long you were out." Her tone had a teasing lift to it, conflicting with the concerned glint in her gaze as she scanned him over.

The blonde's eyebrows rose, having completely glossed over the event that caused his splitting headache. In the chaos of it all, waking up to that scene and then the unexpected reveal of their mutations, he hadn't had enough time to remember what occurred, only that his head was bandaged from it.

Now that he did have time to recall what lead to his injury – specifically the person who caused it – he was unable to look in either of their direction.

"Right, that. Yeah, I'm fine. I feel fine, at least. My head hurts, but my brain is still working, so I think I'll survive." He stumbled over the words, suddenly hyper-aware of Simon's presence—that haunting image would be forever etched into his memory.

An amused breath left her, her next words playful. "Well, your cognitive function appears to be fine. Doesn't seem to have changed from how it normally is." Then her eyes scanned over Grace's tense, fidgety form, now flickering towards Simon with an expectant look. "I think an apology is in order for that little mishap."

At first Simon didn't register it, lost in his own thoughts until she gave a light smack to his chest. Those dark brown eyes snapped to her, his eyebrows scrunched together and lip curled in confusion, until she gestured towards Grace with her head.

He rolled his eyes, yet nonetheless complied to her wishes, the words rolling off his tongue in a lazy, indifferent manner. "Right. Sorry you hit your head. But you didn't die, so I don't see why it's a big deal."

The auburn-haired woman blinked at his apology, if it could even be called that. Slowly she turned towards Grace, who stared back at her with an expression that practically screamed, 'Oh my god my life is danger.'

She feared it was going to take a while for Simon to adjust to Grace's presence, given his history with... well, people in general. He's always been closed off, even before the incident at Filament Station. Given how long it took him to warm up to her, this might turn out to be a long trip.

"That... We'll work on that." She sighed, too frazzled at this point to even correct him. "How are you feeling, Grace? Your cognition doesn't appear to be affected, but is there anything else? Headaches or lightheadedness? Blurry or doubled vision?"

Grace swallowed, his mouth feeling abnormally dry. He wasn't sure whether to blame it on a lack of hydration or the uncomfortable awareness of Simon's hard stare, like he was scrutinizing every move he made.

"Yes to the headache, no to the other stuff. I don't think I hit my head that hard... Did I?" The question was mumbled to himself, his hand skimming over the bandages around his forehead.

Another head injury to add onto, given he smacked his forehead on the pilot console when the fuel tanks were leaking, and he got hit by metal debris when retrieving the samples from Adrian before that. So that's three head related injuries total. At this point he was lucky if he didn't sustain any lasting trauma to his brain.

Astra hummed in acknowledgment while reaching over to grab the cardigan she discarded. "I'd say it wasn't enough to cause any major trauma. But I'd take it easy for while, and let me know if the headache worsens or if you experience any other symptoms."

He watched as she shrugged the material back on, covering up the bandages that were layered across her arms. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips and his eyes squinted. "Will do, Doc." The nickname slipped off his tongue, playful yet fond.

She waved him off with a huff, trying and failing to hide the redness that dusted across her freckled complexion as she mumbled under her breath. His smile split into a humored grin, one that faltered just as quick as it came when he made the mistake of glancing towards the other person in the room.

The lax posture of his body vanished, every muscle tensing up when he met the narrowed eyes of the dark-haired man, one iris a dark brown, the other being steadily taken over by crimson.

Grace figured it was the combination of his height and being covered in blood that made him intimidating. But no, he was still very much terrifying from where he sat on the floor, staring him down like he was waiting for him to make one wrong move to justify his cynicism.

He cleared his throat, struggling and failing to maintain eye contact as the man's gaze bored into his. "I don't think I, uh– We never got properly introduced to one another. Your name is Simon, right? I'm Grace. Or Ryland, actually, but most people call me Grace."

The silence that followed was suffocating, his blue eyes frantically darting towards Astra for assistance, only to be met with complete defeat as she gave a helpless shrug of her shoulders.

This was going well. A socially awkward scientist that rambled a lot, compared to a brooding – whatever he was – that barely spoke a word and looked perpetually annoyed by every syllable that left his mouth.

Yeah, he was sure they'd get along just fine.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of an uneasy stare-off, Simon spoke, the deep rumble of his voice completely aloof. "I know, she told me already."

Not exactly the response Grace was hoping for. "Oh, right. I guess I should've assumed you two talked while I was knocked out." He chuckled, the sound forced as he dragged a hand through his hair.

The tension was painful, and Astra could see that Grace was becoming increasingly stressed the longer Simon pinned him with his accusatory stare. She knew why he was reacting the way he was, but she was adamant on proving Grace's pure intentions.

"Simon was hoping you could provide more information on how you ended up here." She broke the silence, almost laughing at how Grace's taut form visibly sagged at her intervention. "I'm a little curious myself. You didn't delve into that part much, aside from being sent involuntarily."

For the first time Simon's hardened stare faltered at that last word, almost forgetting that key detail in its entirety. Slowly his countenance shifted, not quite erasing the wariness there, but adding a new layer of understanding he hadn't factored in before.

The blonde was more than willing to dive into a new topic, anything to rid of the previous awkwardness. "I mean, I don't think there's much to tell. As I mentioned before, there was an explosion from the astrophage lab that killed two of the astronauts chosen to board the Hail Mary. I'm still not sure how the incident happened, since there shouldn't have been enough astrophage to cause such a massive explosion."

His face scrunched up before his hand waved off the thought. "Whatever the reason, it left them with two astronauts instead of four, the captain and the, uh, I think she was the materials specialist? Either way, they didn't have someone on board that'd know how astrophage worked, thus came the last minute and highly unwilling solution: Me!" He grinned and made little jazz hands in the air for emphasis, earning a humored noise from Astra and a raised eyebrow from Simon.

"So they sent you against your will, to your death, just because you were the only scientist they had that studied this astrophage stuff?" Simon shortened for clarity, his tone incredulous.

"Yes, but I'm not a scientist." They both shot Grace a puzzled look at that statement. He nervously scratched at the back of his neck, the smile he wore turning sheepish. "I have a PhD in molecular biology, but I'm just a middle school science teacher. I only got dragged into this position due to a stupid paper I wrote during my academic years."

He could see the intrigue on Astra's face, to which he was quick to interject before she could ask the question he dreaded answering. "Please don't ask about it. I'd rather not get into it, it's– it's embarrassing."

Her mouth closed, blinking in surprise until a sliver of mirth slipped into her smile. "Alright, I won't ask. But that must've been some paper to land a teacher of all things in the middle of space." She jested, biting back a laugh at the red hue that started to form at the tip of his ears.

He ran a hand over his flushed face, adjusting his crooked glasses in the process. "All you need to know is that paper was a mistake. For more reasons than one." He jokingly mumbled while gesturing around them. "Though, I can't say this mission has been all bad. I met Rocky, and now you guys! Which is a scientific mystery in itself that I don't think will ever be solved."

The auburn-haired woman shrugged her shoulders with a grin. "Now you have new people to keep you company on the way back to Earth, so you don't die of loneliness."

"Not like we had much of a choice on where we went." Simon grumbled, his bitterness returning, though not directed at anyone in particular—a certain scientist was grateful for that.

Astra could see where it was stemming from, knowing that getting shot back into the vastness of space wasn't the most ideal scenario. At least not in comparison to the latter, where they would've been back on a planet that ensured their safety. However, they were alive, and that's all that mattered to her for now.

"No, but I'd say this is better than where we were, and we have a second opportunity to go home. A home that didn't exist anymore." She pointed out with a sigh, her patience wearing a little thin by his demeanor.

Grace glanced between the two, picking up on the rising tension and deciding to, stupidly, slice through it. Sometimes he wished he'd keep his mouth shut, but his ever inquisitive brain always had other plans.

"What did you do, Simon?" The minute the vague question left his mouth, he cringed, shrinking into himself at the puzzled stare he received from said person. "What I mean is, I imagine you also had some kind of role at this, uh, Eden Station? I figured since Astra mentioned being a doctor and scientist, that you had a job as well? Or maybe not? I don't know—"

Amidst his uncertain rambling, Astra and Simon shared a look, an unspoken agreement between the two—don't mention any parts that involved his role as The Butcher and the conviction that followed. With how antsy Grace was around him, that new information would send him over the edge.

"I was an engineer." Simon answered instead, interrupting the blonde who was stumbling over his words. It wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the main role he took on at Eden. "Was in charge of maintaining the stations life systems and technical equipment, repairing the ships engines, stuff like that."

A woman who was a doctor and scientist, and a man that was an engineer. Not only did he have people to join him on his journey home, but they were both intelligent in the two fields he lacked in.

Would've been nice if they appeared before all the choas that erupted, would've saved him, and Rocky, a major breakdown and multiple injuries. But at least he had them now for future instances.

Grace found himself relaxing a little more, for once getting a response that didn't sound hostile. "We could've used your help if you had arrived earlier. Two of the fuel tanks started leaking and it took Rocky and I a while to make the new ones. Rocky did most of it, actually." He admitted with an embarrassed laugh. "They're working fine, but Rocky isn't here to maintain them. I'm a little clueless about it, so I try not to mess with them if I can help it."

Simon hummed, scratching at his beard as he stared off in thought. "I can take over maintenance for it. I'll make sure you and... Rocky didn't fuck it up to where it might leak again." He muttered with a side-glance, a clear hesitation when it came to mentioning the supposed alien that traveled with him.

"Yeah, that's probably for the best." The blonde agreed nervously, averting his gaze elsewhere.

Seeing as their conversation was dwindling, Astra perked up as her attention snapped towards Simon. "You were also a gardener, weren't you? Took care of the Last Tree and the plants around it." She mentioned with an endeared smile.

She remembered the times Simon would talk so fondly about it, the only piece of Eden he could look back on without regret. They had a ritual, with the leaves and their bracelets, as well as a routine to maintain the tree and the surrounding garden. Aside from the gruesome reality of what fed the soil of the plant life, Simon told her it always felt peaceful in there, a literal breath of fresh air that brought life back into his soul.

It was a physical reminder of why he was still fighting to survive in a world of infinite darkness with no future in sight. If a tree could bloom in the emptiness of space, could live despite all odds being against it, then so could he.

And he had a damn good reason to, the minute a head of auburn hair popped into that cell window, before unceremoniously smacking her nose against the bars. The memory almost made him laugh, that signature bandage on her nose even now.

It made him all the more thankful for this second chance, even if it wasn't the most optimal setting. At least they were alive—she was alive.

Simon fiddled with the bracelet around his wrist, resting it in the palm of his hand. "It was more of a obligation that everyone on Eden had to partake in." He corrected, yet there was a softness when he spoke, a familiarity that made his chest ache. "I didn't get to do it often, but yeah, I enjoyed it. Gave me some peace of mind."

It was like a light bulb went off in Grace's head the second he mentioned it, an idea that would – hopefully – lead to a little less hostility between the two.

"There's a greenhouse room on the Hail Mary! It was meant to grow food for the crew once supplies ran out, but since it's only been me, I have a good amount left." He spoke with growing excitement, already pushing himself upwards to stand on his feet. "I haven't touched it much. I usually let Armando tend to them since I was afraid I'd accidentally kill them."

Once he was up he swayed a bit, the sudden rush making his head spin. Astra was quick to dart upwards, her hands grabbing at his arms to stabilize him before he could fall. All he could offer was a flustered, apologetic smile when she sent him a warning stare.

Simon stood up behind her with some difficulty, the blonde directing his gaze back to him with a grin. "Here, I can show you! It's apart of the lab, just in its own little section." Without waiting he began to stumble in that direction, a mildly distressed Astra trailing at his side as she held onto his arm to keep him stable.

Grace opened the door to the room, Astra following him inside while Simon stepped in last. Thankfully there was a chair in the corner, to which she fussed to get him to sit down, not willing to take any risks. The scientist obliged, a pink hue on his pale complexion from her worry.

Meanwhile Simon took in the scenery around them, so simple yet enough to fill him with a serenity he had yet to feel in years.

One end was a window, showing the dark expanse of space outside tinged with hues of blue and purple, while millions of stars sparkled throughout it. There were rows of shelves and trays, all filled with various sized potted plants, vibrant green stems and leaves sprouting from each one into different lengths. Overhead were rows of light, emitting a heat and brightness he could only assume was meant to simulate the sun.

Some supplies were scattered around—a watering can, a miniature metal shovel, gloves, pruners, a gardening fork, bags of seeds and fertilizer, and more. There was a blue water drum in the corner, connected to a pipe towards the ceiling, while a small hose lead out of it.

Not a word left him, his feet moving on their own as he went to inspect the little plants individually, with the awe of a child discovering something new for the first time. Unknowingly a smile twitched on his lips, subtle yet filled with warmth.

Astra and Grace watched as he examined the room, each with their own little smile. Hers shifted to a smirk, bumping her hip against his bicep from where he sat and quietly laughing at the way his body jolted from the contact.

"You should've lead with this if you wanted him to warm up to you."

"That would've been nice to know before I ended up with another concussion."

Side note! I've read up on it to see, cause I remember seeing plants shown in the movie but a lot of people seem to think it's decorative for morale, or that Armando tended to the plants while Grace was in a coma. But then it was also mentioned that the conditions in the ship wouldn't allow for them to grow, sooooo I'm going to change things a bit

On the Hail Mary they have their own little room instead of just being in the lab, where they can get oxygen, CO2, synthetic sunlight, proper space to grow, all that fun jazz. It's going to be a growable food source cause now that there's three of them on board, it'll be a necessity

"Eye movement detected."

A robotic voice chimed from above, the once sleeping figure of a woman stirring from the disturbance. At first she didn't move, eyes squeezed shut and eyebrows pinched inwards, her brain slowly but surely rousing from its drowsy state.

The first sensation that came flooding back was pain, sharp and aching along every part of her body, paired with a headache that was the equivalent of a hammer bashing through her skull. With a groan Astra began to roll to the left, a futile attempt to shield herself away, only for her stomach to drop when the soft padding was no longer beneath her.

"Patient has fallen."

At the sound of that voice again – one she finally realized was automated – she could only groan, disoriented and wounded. Something ripped off her face and arm when she had fallen, and she briefly felt a trickle of blood traveling down the length of her arm.

Actually, there was a warm, sticky substance all over her. It felt damp against any exposed parts of her pale, freckled skin, tears through her clothes that she couldn't fathom how they got there. Whatever was coating her from head to toe, it was light and drying, as if someone had tried to haphazardly clean off what they could.

Her brain felt sluggish, unable to process what was happening fast enough—side effects from a type of opioid, she assumed. Instead she attempted to focus on one thing at a time until it jogged her memory.

"Patient is in stable condition. What is your name?"

She sure as hell didn't feel stable, but she did know her name. That was a good sign, she supposed.

What was that robotic voice, anyway? Since when did the C.O.I. have a machine meant to help treat and observe patients? She'd be pissed if they had this the whole time while making her their primary medical provider. Would've made her life a lot easier, and given her more time to seclude herself inside the lab.

But that didn't make sense. Now that she thought harder on it – god her head was killing her – she hadn't been at the station at all. Glimpses of the submarine flashed through her mind, along with a familiar blonde woman that had the left side of her face deformed, eye a ghostly blank tint compared to the striking blue of the right.

Ava, that was her name. The captain leading the next mission to send down the SM-13 submarine—aka the Iron Lung. Astra remembered now, being sealed inside that hunk of metal, left to face the horrors lying in wait in the dark depths of the blood ocean on the AT-5 moon.

The memories were flooding back now, her chest rising and falling quicker than usual as a hurricane of conflicting emotions raged inside of her. So vividly she recalled the hull being torn apart, the metal creaking, bending and snapping from rows of teeth, all while her screams were drowned out by the rush of thick, hot blood consuming her body whole.

Astra knew that's what happened, had come to the horrifying reality that was her inevitable death. It was real, it happened, she knew it did. That's what her body was still coated in, drying blood.

If that's the case, then how was she still alive? How was she here? Wherever here even was...

Where was she?

For the first time Astra pried her eyes open, wide, mismatched irises darting around the unfamiliar space. Immediately her brows furrowed together, confusion deeply etched into her features.

It was a ship, that much she could tell, but it was unlike any of the ones she had been on. There were multiple cloths piled in the corner, stained with a crimson hue—likely used by someone to wipe the blood off her. Then she spotted a glass-like structure propped against the wall, which she had no clue what that was for. A dome of sorts?

Eventually her eyes shifted up, landing on the robotic arm that hovered above her. The arm's hand shifted around her space, as if it were looking at her through the camera in the center, observing every miniscule detail of her stress that was rising by the second.

On instinct she tried to scramble away from the foreign technology, only to let out a loud hiss between her teeth when her side flared up at the movement. Her elbow braced against the ground to keep her head from smacking into it, eyes squeezed shut as short, shallow breaths slipped out of her lungs in painful wheezes.

None of this was making sense, yet a part of her wanted to ignore the millions of questions, to let her pounding head rest and ease away the pain coursing through her nervous system. Unfortunately, the anxiety pumping through her veins right now wouldn't allow her a single second of peace.

Nor would this damn robotic arm that kept getting even closer to her business.

"Heart rate is elevated. Would you like me to administer a dose of—"

Before the automated voice could finish, the sound of bounding footsteps nearby halted its inquiry. Not long after a voice rang out from above, deep and riddled with exhaustion, as if he had just woken up from the noise. A man began to descend the ladder from her peripheral, vibrant orange fabric entering her view.

He was speaking, not sparing a glance in their direction to avoid tumbling down the ladder in his sleep-deprived state. "Armando, what is all the commotion? I'm trying to get some sle—" Once he neared the bottom of the ladder he shifted his gaze over, only to freeze up when his eyes connected with wild, mismatched ones. "Oh."

For a minute it was an awkward stare off between the two. Light-green and hazel-brown clashed with striking blue, the prior dazed and fear stricken while she held her breath, and the latter purely stunned, unable to believe what he was seeing. He stared at her like she was otherworldly, something he couldn't fathom was currently awake and looking right back at him.

That expression melted away into relief, finally processing the situation after the initial shock wore off. A hint of urgency seeped into his movements while he struggled to get down the last section of the ladder.

"Oh my god, you're awake! You're actually– Uh, hold on, let me just get down this—" The man rushed down the last few rungs rather ungracefully, nearly tripping and falling to the floor in the process.

He stumbled his way over to her eventually, with Astra watching the entire scene in perplexed silence. At least she didn't have to fret over the possibility of enduring more bodily harm from a captor. The blonde in front of her looked anything but hostile or intimidating, instead appearing to be a little out of breath after getting his shoe stuck between the ladder rungs.

The man, now a few feet away from her, was tall with a well-defined build. He was clothed in a tight, navy-blue science pun t-shirt – I wear this shirt periodically, with a periodic table – the bottom half of an orange suit with the sleeves tied around his waist, and white, scuffed shoes that were partially unlaced. His dirty blonde hair was short and messy, sticking out in every direction – bed head – while the sides connected to the short beard along his face. Along with that he wore a pair of gold, thin-rimmed glasses, hanging loosely from one ear and ready to fall off his face at any moment.

He shifted on his feet, bursting with a nervous yet warm energy that reflected in the hint of a smile he wore. His demeanor made him appear giddy, like he was eager to finally talk to her, yet apprehensive all the same. He stood a reasonable distance, to the point she realized he was taking precautions from her, like she might potentially attack him rather than vice versa.

So yeah, definitely not a threat.

"You're awake– I mean, this is great! I'm glad you're finally awake." He was caught up on that fact, unable or unwilling to believe it. Then he paused, eyebrows furrowed in worry as he eyed her hunched over posture. "Are you in a lot of pain still? Armando can give you another small dose of morphine now, I think."

"Affirmative, Dr. Grace." The robot responded in time, already preparing said dosage to administer to her.

Astra watched the machine warily, before glancing back towards him when the needle breached her skin. "Armando? That's its name or..?" She trailed off, more than lost on everything happening at this very moment—one small thing at a time, lest her head would explode.

He shrugged a shoulder, looking slightly embarrassed as he glanced away. "Yeah, I decided to give it one. It was just me on the ship and the robot, so I figured—" He abruptly cleared his throat, cutting himself off in an attempt to redirect the conversation. "But not anymore, evidently. What's your name? Do you remember your name?"

The second question puzzled her, especially the genuine concern he expressed with it, as if it were an experience he'd lived through and now awaited her to admit the same.

"It's Astra." She mumbled, leaning her head back for some semblance of relief. God, this headache was going to turn her brain into mush.

He blinked at her. "Astra..?" He waited, only to be met with a strange, hesitant stare in return, to which he nodded despite the confusion etched into his face. "Oh, that's it. No last name. Okay, cool. A little weird that you don't have one, but no judgment here."

From what she could tell so far, this guy rambled a lot. Usually she would've found said trait endearing, along with all his other socially awkward yet charming mannerisms, but right now she was struggling to wrap her head around this situation. Her entire body still hurt like hell, too—hopefully the morphine would kick in fast.

Astra couldn't bother to keep her head up, letting it rest fully against the wall. "You're, uhm... Dr. Grace?" She assumed, recalling what the robot referred to him as.

"Ryland Grace. You can just call me Ryland, or Grace. Either one is fine." He offered instead, a warm smile lighting up his face. Cautiously he took a step forward, like approaching a wild deer ready to sprint off. "Is it okay if I help you up? The floor doesn't look too comfortable."

"Please." She agreed without hesitation, her current position not helping her injuries in the slightest.

With quick yet careful movements he lifted her up like she weighed nothing, setting her on top of the soft padding she fell off of earlier. Once he ensured she was steady he stepped away, leaving a respectable distance between them—not too close to make her uncomfortable, yet enough to be of help were she to sway.

It was silent for a minute, with Grace internally struggling on how to start his next sentence without stressing her further. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions. I can try to answer them, if you answer one of mine first. Cause, well— Uh, I'm not exactly sure how either of you ended up here."

Her eyebrows scrunched up, regarding him with a puzzled stare for the umpteenth time. "'Either of you'?" She repeated that part slowly, having no clue who else he could be referring to. "What are you talking about?"

The worry from earlier returned, his lips pursing into a small, hesitant frown. "Uhm, your friend over there? I'm assuming you were together, since you were in the same heap of, uh, blood on the floor when I found you both. Am I wrong or do you– do you not remember?" He grew fidgety, blue eyes flickering between herself and something behind her.

Astra squinted, reluctantly turning her head in the direction he was glancing at. In the bed behind her laid the body of a man coated in blood – she imagined she looked the same – while attached to a oxygen mask and IV similar to when she had woken up. Although, he looked much worse for wear compared to herself—the crimson bandages around the remaining stump of his left arm said that much.

For a minute her brain ran a blank, mismatched eyes roving over his features in hopes to jog something, anything. Medium length, dark, wavy locks sprawled around his head, dark stubble around his jaw, and glimpses of tan skin beneath smeared blood, likely paler than usual due to his current state. Then her eyes trailed down along his ripped clothes, landing on a bracelet clutched between his fingers—a leaf pendent, one he cherished deeply.

The wave of memories that slammed into her made her feel physically nauseous.

Simon.

How could she have forgotten about him being with her? How did her brain skip such a crucial detail? And god, he looked awful. His arm, his entire fucking arm was gone.

Without thinking she scrambled across the bedding towards him, ignoring the sharp aches and pains that followed. All that mattered was getting to him, that she confirmed he was alive despite seeing his chest rise and fall unsteadily. She needed to feel his pulse beneath her fingers, feel the thrum of his heart in his chest.

Unfortunately, a pair of arms was quick to reel her back before she could go crashing to the ground. "Whoa! Hey, what're you doing? Don't do that–!" Grace's panic fell on deaf ears, the woman continuing to thrash in his hold to get free. "You're going to hurt yourself!"

"I need to see him! I need to make sure he's okay! Let go—!" She tried to pry herself out of his grip, but her weakened state did little against his strong hold. It was irritational, she knew that deep down, but in her frenzy she couldn't find it in herself to care about anything else but him. "Simon! Simon, get up!"

With some difficulty he managed to pull her back enough to where he wasn't actively preventing her from falling off the bed. "Astra! Just listen to me, please!" He pleaded with her, her struggle dying down the longer she drained her energy.

Eventually she stopped fighting entirely, to which a relieved breath escaped him. It was quiet, nothing but their panted breaths filling the room while both recovered from the scuffle. He didn't release her out of fear of her making another attempt, the trembling underneath his fingers a telltale sign.

Then a quiet noise met his ears, a stuttered breath that devolved into a pitiful whimper, each barely restrained. The shaking of her body worsened, her shoulders tensed up in a poor attempt to stop them from moving.

Oh. She was crying.

Oh no.

Grace's gaze softened, a mixture of sympathy and remorse swirling in them. He hadn't meant to cause her further distress, and he knew the sinking feeling a little too well—that heavy rock of dread that settled into one's gut upon realizing the other person wasn't going to wake up.

He knew that, except that wasn't the case in this scenario, and now he felt personally responsible for making her spiral. Truthfully he wasn't the greatest at comforting people, let alone a stranger, but the guilt was eating him alive and it hadn't even been a minute.

He sighed, his grip loosening to hover at her sides. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—" What? Manhandle her? He winced, realizing an apology was only going to make it more awkward. Nope, not good. He needed a new approach. "Can you look at me? Please."

It took a moment for Astra to tear her gaze away from Simon's sleeping form, fearful the second she did so, that would change. She couldn't bear the thought of losing him, yet as her watery gaze connected with Grace's, filled to the brim with compassion despite the uncertainty there, that tight knot in her chest loosened enough to let her breathe.

"He's resting right now. Armando took care of his injuries, now his body has to work on the rest." He reassured her, his deep voice impossibly gentle, as if she would break from anything louder. The touch on her sides raised up, resting lightly on her shoulders. "He'll be okay, I promise. If you want to check for yourself, I can walk you over to him."

New tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, for an entirely different reason this time. "Y–yes, please..."

Grace helped her down from the bed, letting her wrap an arm around his waist to keep herself stable. He carefully walked them over to where Simon laid, far slower than was truly necessary, but she didn't comment on it.

Once close enough she reached out with her free hand, watching as her own quivering fingers brushed away some dark hair from his face. Up close she could see the puffs of air through the clear mask, along with the peaceful expression resting underneath it—no terror, no panic, no anger, no worry. Absolutely nothing, completely detached from the horrific events that somehow lead them here.

Her palm drifted downwards, until her fingertips brush along the torn fabric covering his chest. It rested there, feeling for the heartbeat that lay beneath. It was faint, but still pumping in time with her own.

Grace held onto her the entire time, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against her side. "See? He'll be fine. He just needs a long nap, and then he'll be back in business." He sounded reminiscent, like the words falling from his mouth were from his own experience.

Astra let her hand slip away, yet her mismatched irises didn't leave Simon's face for a second. "He'll be fine." She mumbled, trying to reassure herself. Then she sighed, rubbing under her eyes to rid of the wet streaks there. "I'm sorry about all that. I don't know what came over me."

"You were worried for your friend. There's nothing wrong with that." Grace shrugged it off, merely relieved he was able to calm her down from her frenzy. "Except now Armando will have to check you over to make sure you didn't open any stitches. So, you did that to yourself."

There was a teasing lift to his tone, one she released a breath of a laugh at—the action hurt her chest a bit. "Yeah, yeah. Can I wash all this blood off before that? I'd rather not get an infection."

"Right, that's a good idea. Should probably do that first." Grace agreed with a nervous chuckle, accidentally overlooking her blood-soaked state admist the chaos. "You wait here for a second, and I'll get everything ready for you. Armando can keep you company."

As he set her back on the empty bed, she spared a glance towards said robot. It waved a bit then moved its fingers, confirming what he said.

A smile cracked on her lips, shaking her head as she turned back around to see the blonde shuffling towards the ladder. She watched from where she sat, nothing but gratitude in her expression. "Thank you, Grace."

He halted, near the top of the ladder when he went to peer down at her from above. "Oh, it's, uh– it's no problem, really." He mumbled, a noticeable redness rising to his cheeks as he went to rush up the last few rungs, only to hit his head against the ceiling. "Ow, that's my head. Need to look where I'm going."

A laugh escaped once he was out of sight, simultaneously amused and endeared. Grace seemed like a good person so far, sweet and charming, albeit in a clumsy way. Nonetheless, she was appreciative it had been someone like him to save and care for herself and Simon.

Now she had to figure out how the hell they even ended up here when she was one-hundred percent positive they should've been dead.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

A warm shower was a much needed refresher. Blood and grime tainted the water at her feet, swirling down the drain over and over again until the water trickling down her body turned clear. While it felt heavenly, she remained mindful of the fact she shouldn't use up too much water, and stepped out once she deemed herself properly cleaned.

Grace had provided some clothes for her, clearly doing a once over of her current outfit and deciding, "Yeah, there's no salvaging that. There's some extra clothes I have that you can wear, or some left behind from the– the, uh, other crew." She decided not to question the noticeable waver in his voice from that last part.

Looking in a mirror now, she hadn't realized how awful she looked. Crimson wounds littered random parts of her body – Grace was right about the stitches coming undone – along with dark, purple bruises blooming along her pale, freckled skin. Her face sustained a few cuts and scratches, paired with the usual one across her nose.

Astra fished around in the medical kit she took after some convincing. She insisted it would be easier if she stitched up the wounds on her own, that she had experience doing so many times before, both on herself and other patients.

Truthfully, she wasn't too enthusiastic about the idea of letting a robotic arm do it for her, regardless of her fascination. That, and she needed a second alone, to breathe and process everything that's happened—she kept that part to herself.

Grace didn't question her reasoning, caving into her request rather easily. Though he was staring at her differently, something indecipherable in his tone when he blurted out, "You're a doctor, then?"

No, she wasn't. At least she didn't feel like she was a proper one, given the circumstances of her role, which was why she shut that down with a flush rising to her cheeks. He didn't push the topic further, nor did he look convinced by her modesty.

She had to take the supplies and clothes then rush away when he kept staring at her strangely—she didn't know how to describe it, like he was analyzing her in a way he hadn't before. Whatever it was, it was had her face burning up and she decided to flee.

It was an unpleasant process, a needle poking through her skin over and over again never a sensation she could get used to. Regardless her fingers moved with familiar precision, until the pressure of the needle turned dull and the skin around her open gashes were sealed shut.

After that she worked on shuffling into the clothes that were provided for her. There was a pair of loose fitted cargo pants – she had to tighten the belt straps quite a bit – along with another science pun t-shirt that said Ah! The Element of Surprise. Her boots were returned, now clear of all blood, and on top of it all she was given a cardigan that had animals woven along the front and back.

Squinting at the patterns, she tried to recall what kind of animal it was. It was difficult to remember with the limited data she had at the C.O.I., especially when her studies revolved around the ocean. After some thought, a specific depiction came to mind she'd seen before with similar colors—a fox, she finally concluded.

It was cute, and thoughtful since it was a little too cold for her in the ship, at least while her body was recovering.

Before she left the bathroom, she dried her auburn locks as best as she could, the messy curls dripping with water. Upon stepping out she glanced around, trying to remember which direction to head in. Grace mentioned he'd be in the lab, if only she could recall where he said that would be at.

It didn't take her too long to find it, seeing as she could hear him rustling around and mumbling to himself over the consistent hum of the ship. She hovered in the entryway for a second, eyes landing on Grace where he was fiddling with the knobs of a microscope. From the blank stare he was directing down the lens, to his foot rhythmically tapping against the floor, it was evident he was trying to pass the time while she finished up.

Astra shifted where she stood, deciding to gain his attention by clearing her throat. The small sound made him jolt away from the microscope, sending some nearby equipment off the table in the process. Before they could fall, he hastily swept them back up with his arm, the items clattering noisly against the surface.

The glasses dangling off his face were pushed up to rest on the bridge of his nose before he turned to face her. A sheepish smile twitched at his lips. "Hey! Sorry, didn't notice you were—"

The words died in his throat, nearly choking on them once his gaze landed on Astra. During that split second his brain stopped functioning, wide eyes taking in the sight before him—his cardigan engulfing her smaller figure with the sleeves reaching past her fingers, his shirt hugging her frame underneath, and wet, curly locks of auburn hair cascading around her head.

In that moment, he realized how terrible of an idea it was to lend his clothes to the only woman he'd seen in god knows how long. Not his greatest decision, but in his defense, it didn't feel right giving away his deceased crew mates clothes. He knew he was overthinking it, however it was too late to second guess himself now.

His face felt like it was blazing, no doubt turning the the shade of a tomato, cause damnit he was still staring and hadn't said anything. His brain was failing him yet again.

Her fingers fiddled with the edges of the sleeves, finding interest in staring at the patterns there. "Thank you for the clothes again." She broke the silence, now tracing along the animals on the front. "I like the foxes on this. They are foxes, right?"

Her voice knocked him out of his stupor, quickly averting his gaze like he'd been caught doing something he's not supposed to. "Y–yeah, they're foxes. I used to have a keychain with one on it, and I have a fox mask one of my students made for me, and some other shirts—" When he met her curious gaze, his throat closed up and his face grew hotter, if possible. "Anyway! You can keep it, if you want. Since you like it. It looks better on you than me."

A light red hue painted her cheeks, one that paled in comparison to the scientist in front of her, who looked ready to melt into a puddle on the floor. "Oh, thank you... I assume the shirt I'm wearing is also yours? Do all your shirts have bad science puns on them?"

Her tone was teasing, fingers pulling as the fabric of the shirt for emphasis as she walked further into the room. It was a little messy, with equipment and supplies strewn about, and a random pillow and blanket thrown in the corner.

There were more of those glass-like structures winding throughout the ship, which she still had no clue what those were for. She'd have to ask him about that.

A light-hearted scoff left him, any tension from before now fading away from his body. "I'll have you know they are amazing science puns, and so is my fashion sense." He remarked with feigned offense, a playful glare in his eyes from behind the rim of his glasses.

"With this adorable cardigan? Can't argue there." She replied with a soft grin, laughing under her breath when his head ducked down, the tips of his ears visibly red. "What were you looking at in the microscope?"

He spared a glance between her approaching figure and his scattered station, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. "It's a long story... But I can fill you in while you eat!" He perked up, a hand carefully grazing her waist to keep her balanced while he slipped past her. "Figured you'd be hungry after, uh— Well, whatever it is you went through to cover you in that amount of blood..."

Grace trailed off while grabbing a ceramic cup filled with noodles, still warm underneath his touch. Both of them needed to clear up some things between them, seeing as neither had any idea how the other ended up on the Hail Mary in the first place. Let alone in the bloodied state they were in, which nearly gave him a heart attack at first. He'd never admit to the shriek that escaped when he first discovered them.

Could anyone blame him, though? Two bodies covered in blood from head-to-toe wasn't exactly a normal sight to stumble upon, even more so in the empty void of space. It was ten times more horrifying than the first time he encountered Rocky.

"Guess we both have some explaining to do." Astra mumbled, holding out her hands as he gently handed her the cup. The smell immediately wafted into her nose, triggering the rumble of her empty stomach. "You start first. I'm starving."

He held no objections, an eager smile on his face as he sat down on the floor with her. She started digging into her meal, which was surprisingly more flavorful than she anticipated, and she couldn't recall the last time she had any sort of noodles.

The man in front of her rambled on while she ate, explaining in vivid detail everything that happened so far. She listened with rapt attention, as much intrigued as she was puzzled the longer the story went on.

What she gathered by the time she ate her entire cup of noodles—the stars were dimming due to a microbe called astrophage, except for one star called Tau Ceti that was immune to this phenomenon, and approximately 11.9 light-years from Earth. He found the cause, these predatory-like organisms called Taumoeba on the planet Adrian – named after Rocky's mate, how sweet – and after successfully breeding a separate strain resistant to nitrogen, he was now routing back to Earth to bring this discovery with him, courtesy of an alien space rock providing him the fuel.

She wished she could've met Rocky, it would've been extraordinary to see intelligent extraterrestrial life with her own eyes. A bit of a bummer to hear she missed that opportunity, but he offered to show her the recordings they made together at some point. He also explained that's what the glass-like tunnels she saw were from, created from xenonite to keep Rocky in his own atmosphere composed mainly of ammonia.

There were some terrifying bumps along the mission, shown by the couple of scars on his face and the burn mark around his arm. She could feel her expression drop from its initial fascination once he – rather hesitantly – mentioned the fact he was forced into going on this one-way trip, rather than volunteering.

He wanted Earth to be saved, he just didn't want to be the one to do it. In the beginning he wanted to help, to provide as much research as they needed to send those four astronauts on their mission, who had long accepted their awaited deaths. Never did he anticipate how an explosion would lead to being sent to his inevitable demise, his life stolen from him for the sake of humanity's survival.

It was simultaneously heartbreaking and frustrating to hear, knowing the man in front of her was unwillingly sent on a suicide mission when all he wanted was to live—the sentiment was familiar in a way that made her chest feel hollow. Spurred on by her emotions, she began to delve into her own explanation while her now empty cup sat beside her.

How it all began with the Quiet Rapture, leading to two distinct governing forces and their goals—the Consolidation of Iron, who wanted to create a new, sustainable future for humanity, and Eden, whose only purpose was to protect and nourish the Last Tree, a symbol of hope for their remaining lives. Their differing viewpoints regarding the future lead to tension between the two, inevitably resulting in a war breaking out that left Filament Station blown to pieces and heavily irradiated.

During the conflict, there was a discovery of two moons—the Z-8 and AT-5, the only planetary bodies left in the universe. Astra and other researchers were trying to study these abnormal moons with oceans of blood on them, however due to their dangerous and unknown qualities, their observations remained at a surface level. That was, until the C.O.I. proposed sending down submarines to collect data that'd be more substantial.

Unfortunately, there wasn't any success. A threat lingered beneath the crimson surface, destroying anything man-made sent to its depths. No one knew what was down there, yet the C.O.I. kept sending one after another despite the consistent lack of progress, leaving endless amounts of valuable information at the bottom of the ocean.

Eventually Simon and herself were chosen to be sealed into a submarine, the SM-13, also known as the Iron Lung. Like all the others, she knew it was a death sentence, that neither of them were making it out of that metal hull.

Astra was sent down after the C.O.I. accused her of an alliance towards an Eden prisoner, for betraying their trust and reporting false information on her psychological assessments of the prisoners. They also suspected her of hindering their research, which was far from true since she'd never sabotage her own studies, but she knew at that point they were piling on her crimes to justify the punishment.

After a brief pause, she decided it was best to leave out what Simon was down there for, almost one-hundred percent certain the man in front of her would freak out. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and while she assumed Grace could acknowledge that factor, telling him Simon was a convicted murderer wouldn't land well either way.

That information could be disclosed later, or preferably never.

Grace had the enthusiasm and curiosity of a little kid the entire time she spoke, constantly asking questions to make more sense of the story. He was attentive to every detail, listening with utmost fascination, his expressions twisting in response to what she said. Definitely more of an engaged listener, rather than herself who preferred to simply nod and hum along, save for the occasional question.

He was beyond intrigued when she mentioned they had established a colony on Mars before the Quiet Rapture—the place where Simon was born before moving to Eden Station. There was a bombardment of inquiries from him, ones she had absolutely no answer for since she never got to experience it for herself. She only ever heard about it, never got to see it in person before it disappeared with the rest of the planets.

If he wanted, it was possible Simon could tell him more about it when he wakes up. She found it adorable how eager Grace looked at that suggestion, like a puppy with an imaginary tail wagging behind him.

At one point he brought her two new cups, one filled to the brim with more noodles and the other some water. Along with it there was a green bag labeled Skittles, which she found out were mini sour candies. The tart coating over the fruity sweetness was unexpected at first, but she quickly began to like it.

By the time she was done talking, she had polished off the second cup of noodles, half the bag of candy, and now sipped on her water. Neither of them were left with a reasonable conclusion as to how Simon and herself ended up on the Hail Mary—let alone in an entirely different universe, but quantum physics wasn't either of their expertise.

"Guess we were both unwilling sacrifices for the sake of saving humanity. That must be some kind of achievement." His deep voice grumbled, half-serious and half-joking.

Astra rolled her eyes, contradicting the smile that was curling on her lips. The rest of the water slid down her throat, and by the time she set the cup down, she took notice of him staring again. Lots of rambling and staring seemed to be his thing.

His elbow was propped against his leg, letting his head rest in the palm of his hand while his eyes flickered across her facial features from behind his lopsided glasses. There was a smile slowly spreading across his face, one she couldn't identify as she rose an eyebrow at him.

"What?" She asked skeptically, trying to ignore the heat rushing to her cheeks at the attention.

That smile shifted into a grin, his gaze locking onto her own with a fond gleam. "Not only are you a doctor, but you're a scientist, too. That's impressive."

It was a statement, not allowing her to confirm nor deny unlike his earlier question. He sounded sure of himself, that it was a fact regardless of what she said next—which he easily predicted what that'd be based on her reaction from the last one.

"I wouldn't say that." As expected she tried to wave it off, unable to look at him as she fiddled with her empty cup. "I was merely one of the best options they had after everything vanished from existence, and the medical position was kind of thrown at me because of my mother."

His stare remained unwavering, yet softened at the doubt in her tone. "I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit." He murmured, wholly genuine and warm, gently nudging his foot against hers as a gesture of reassurance. "You said you were young when this, uhm, Silent— No, Quiet Rapture happened? And all that was left were these moons with oceans of blood..?"

A quiet laugh escaped her at the unease etched into his expression whenever he mentioned blood. Clearly finding them coated in the crimson substance and imagining an ocean full of it had him disturbed. Not that she could blame him, any sane person would be thoroughly freaked out from it.

"Yes, I grew up on Earth for some time, then ended up moving to a station with my family. I was little, so I don't remember much of it." As she spoke her voice dipped down, a deep melancholy painting every word. "It's difficult to use the Earth's ocean as a reference for my studies when I've never actually seen it before. I had to go off of what we had stored in the database."

The smile he wore faltered at her tone, a devastating mixture of disappointment and mourning over the life she could've experienced. It felt like a hole carved itself into his chest, seeing her previously content demeanor deflate before his very eyes, with no way to fix it.

If he could, he would've shown her the ocean and everything else she missed out on. They were heading back to Earth, so he could promise to, but there was this heavy, sinking feeling in his stomach. A pit of dread that he couldn't identify, preventing him from saying such.

Fortunately, his brain decided to cooperate with him this one time, providing him an easy solution.

Grace lit up, already scrambling to his feet by the time she sent him a puzzled glance. "We have to change that. Come with me." He didn't provide any details, merely reaching down to help her up.

She complied easily, though her confusion increased tenfold when one of his hands went to cover her eyes. "What is happening right now?"

"It's a surprise. Just trust me, you'll love it." He paused, a hum in the back of his throat that became uncertain. "Or I hope you will. It's the only option I could think of, seeing as we're in the middle of space and it'll be some time before we—"

She sighed in faux annoyance. "Grace."

He winced, a nervous chuckle slipping out. "Right, sorry. Leading the way."

The trip was a slow one, seeing as the ship was practically a minefield with objects and xenonite scattered all over the place. Grace was careful with guiding her, one hand over her eyes and the other resting against her waist, verbal directions murmured to her as an extra precaution.

By the time they got there, he had her sit on a platform. Astra kept her eyes closed, listening to the sound of his fingers typing and tapping away. A few seconds later a bright light surrounded her, causing her closed eyelids to squeeze further together, struggling to keep them shut like he requested.

To the right of her she heard Grace climb up onto the platform, until his knee bumped against her own. "Okay, you can open them now." He gave the green light, his words layered with a giddy anticipation.

First she peeked one eye open, then the other as they landed on the scene before her. The room they were in was made entirely out of screens, showcasing a sandy shoreline where waves of blue-green water crashed along it, white foam disappearing beneath their feet. Above the ocean's horizon sat the sun, reflecting warm, yellow rays along the waters rippling surface, while hues of orange, red and pink bled throughout the sky like a watercolor painting, broken apart by white, fluffy clouds.

Even with it being a digital view, it was the most beautiful scenery she had ever seen in her life. Slowly she scanned over the entirety of the room, taking in as much as she could from left to right, until eventually she landed on the man sitting next to her. While all her attention was on the display around them, his remained glued to her, as if the scenery paled in comparison to her reaction.

His fingers dragged through his mess of dirty blonde hair, unable to sit still as his shoe began to tap against the platform. "Sooo, do you like it? I know it's not the real thing, but I figured it'd help you picture it."

It felt like only a split second as he glanced away, yet when he looked back, he immediately noticed the glistening light along the edges of her mismatched eyes. A tear slipped down her cheek and he felt his chest tighten in alarm.

"You're crying. Shoot, I didn't mean to make you cry!" He blurted out in panic, quickly shuffling onto his knees so he could get off the platform. "I'm sorry, I didn't think that— Here, I can turn it off—"

Before he could, her hand darted out to latch onto his arm, halting his actions. "No! No, no, no. It's okay, more than okay." She rushed out, offering him a wobbly yet reassuring smile. "God, I love it. It's so beautiful. I could've never imagined it like this."

Right, happy tears. He forgot it could be those.

With a sigh of relief, he let himself sink back down beside her. The hand on his arm returned to her lap, and he found himself silently missing the contact. He shoved that thought down as quickly as it came.

Astra played with the ends of her sleeves, watery eyes wandering along the screens with nothing but awe. "Y'know, this is much prettier than an ocean of blood filled with flesh and bones" She joked, turning to him with a tiny grin.

Grace shuddered, pulling a face that coaxed a laugh from her throat. "I don't want to imagine what that looks like. I've been scared enough on this mission." He huffed playfully, before twisting his body around to slide off the platform. "Hold on a sec, let me change it. I think you'll like the Great Barrier Reef."

The screens around them shifted, showcasing a thriving ecosystem along the ocean floor. Coral of all shapes, sizes and hues, intertwining with bight green seagrass and algae, while various types of fish swam in and out of the large reef. The beach was pretty, but getting to see the life waiting beneath the surface of the ocean was breathtaking.

"It's so vibrant. There's so many different colors and fish." Astra whispered, more so to herself than the man sitting next to her. Then her eyes squinted, zeroing in on a creature sliding along the screen that she couldn't recognize. "What is that one?"

Grace followed her gaze, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It's a sea turtle. They like to eat jellyfish." He quietly answered, unable to help himself as he added on a small factoid.

She didn't know what a jellyfish was either, only humming in acknowledgment as she watched the turtle float by. "I like them. They're cute."

She wasn't sure how long they'd been in there for. Apparently this was the Mental Health room – or as he liked to call it the Don't Go Crazy Room – a way to help ward off cabin fever in the endless void of space.

They went back and forth like that for a while, with Grace changing the scenery and her trying to point out places and animals that she learned about. When she couldn't identify something he'd do it for her, each one paired with a random fact he knew off the top of his head.

It was the most relaxed Astra had felt since she got here. Maybe it was the slow realization that everything was fine here, that she'd be able to return to Earth like nothing ever happened.

Or maybe it was the company of the man beside her, chatting away about anything and everything while she listened, his low, slightly raspy voice soothing to her ears. Whichever it was, it felt like a weight had lifted off her shoulders.

At some point she let her head fall against his shoulder, the peaceful scenery – it was now a forest with a family of red foxes skittering around – and the comforting hush of his words only enhancing the drowsiness washing over her body.

She felt his shoulder tense for a second, his sentence coming to a shuddering halt as his breath hitched above her. A beat of silence, then a light pressure on top of her head, his voice resuming as a gentle murmur that brushed along the curled strands of her auburn hair.

Astra was trying to listen, she really was. But he was warm beside her, the arm that steadied itself around her waist merely inviting her to cozy up to him further. She was dozing off, his words gradually fading into silence, the last thing she registered being the gentle motion of his thumb rubbing along her waist underneath the cardigan.

At least that would've been it, had a startlingly loud bang from above not ripped her out of said blissful state. Along with it there were heavy, panted breaths, causing her head to snap up in that direction.

When they landed on a blood-coated Simon, she wasn't sure whether to be relieved at his recovery, or alarmed for the scientist beside her, who he was currently staring daggers into. If looks could kill, Grace would've slumped over then and there.

And he definitely wanted to, because he felt like prey being stalked by its predator—a hound ready to lunge for the fox's throat.

"Who the fuck are you?"

He almost let out the same scream from when he first found them. Almost.

No, instead he let out a mix between a whimper and yelp, his body flailing away from Astra as he went tumbling off the platform.

Ouch.

*Shoves all three of them in a box and shakes them around violently*