#grace x reader

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡✮ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆｡°✩.˚ ݁ ˖ ✧ ‧₊:･ﾟ:･.˚｡☽ ･:･.:☁︎ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆𖦹. ₊ ⊹ . ₊˖ . ₊𓈒𓏸.°•･:. ₊˖ ˚｡ ･.:☁︎ ☽˚✩.˚ ݁ ˖ ✧ ‧₊ ･

Spending a year in space awake from his coma bed was not that boring as Ryland expected, not this boring when he has a kid-like eridian century older than him and you accompany him in this exploration to save the stars.

The DGSE drug was supposed to wear off not long after he woke up, but something clearly went wrong. A year had passed, and parts of him were still missing. It helped, in a way—kept the fear quiet, kept him steady, but it also buried things that mattered the most. 

Things like whatever it was he had with you before all of this. 

You watched him as he drew a face in Rocky’s ball. Animated eyes with pouty lips, a satisfied smile on his face as he finished his drawing which will be rolled over after anyways. 

Ryland faced Rocky to you like a proud kid who drew a mustache to his friend’s face sleeping, but this time his friend is awake and fully aware. This Scientist has taken advantage of his naive friend.

“Woman likes Grace drawing on Rocky, question?”

“It's…” You were looking for the best word to use. “..Perfection. You look awesome, Rocky.”

“Rocky is awesome!” he cheered and lifted one of his arms to Grace. “Fist my bump”

“Hmm nope” Grace said, trying not to show how disgusted he was just thinking about it, “I told you that’s not how we say it. It’s fistb—”

“Fist my bun?”

“That’s— nope nope”

“Fisting?”

“That’s even worse.”

“Ahh Human language. So complicated. statement.” Rocky complained.

You faced them both as soon as you finished setting up the camera, “You boys ready?” interrupting them to get their attention.

Three of you get ready in front of the camera for the photo as it is part of documenting the journey to Tau Ceti. 

Ryland’s undecided where to put his hand. It rested lightly on your shoulder, unsure, slipping a little each time he tried to steady it. Before he could decide, you took the lead, grabbing  his hand and rest it on your waist. The timer went off right at that moment, capturing the flicker of surprise on his face at what you’d just done.

“Let’s t-take another shot, can we?” He asked.

Ryland can only recall what his basic personal information, occupation, in academia, eventually became as a middle school teacher, how he got recruited in this project and some glimpse of you working with him in the lab, and last that unfinished memory with you under the stars and unclear kiss. Other than that is nothing. 

Right now, for Grace, having accompaniment was not to reduce his workload but to relieve the feeling of loneliness, fighting to save the star in the middle of nowhere. It’s a plus that you are flexible enough to do what needs to be done. You are the most reliable person and he felt great having you with him.

In the first months, he’s in the ship, alone, existential crisis was the main thing he was dealing with. He knows many things and nothing about himself. But all of the things he worried about faded away when Rocky and you stepped in. It was like making him complete.

“Wow, you look so..” smiles at him “...radiant” you said and looks back at the photo while his gaze follows your hand as it goes to his chest and rests there like it is nothing. Well, It's not nothing for Grace.

His only major problem right now is that tense feeling in some particular moment when you are around. It's just because you couldn't get your hand off him. Those random touches of skin, caressed in safe areas were driving him crazy. 

“Grace breathing unstabliz—”

“I THINK! that’s enough photos for Stratt. Sure she wouldn’t like to see much of my face haha” He cuts off Rocky before he could finish his words.

It's you and Rocky’s unpredictable announcing of body monitoring against Grace. 

He cannot just deny the fact that he melts whenever you are around, close to him and like he often lets his guard down while afraid of getting too much of you at the same time.

Grace has always been dealing with you messing around like that. Like how you intentionally make skin contact with him, split second yet noticeable. Or the way you put your hand on his waist whenever you passed by, especially in tiny spaces where he was. 

A brush of skin that lasted no longer than a second, barely but impossible to ignore. The way your hand would find his waist and back as you passed, especially in those narrow corridors of the ship, like you knew exactly what you were doing. And maybe you did.

he wanted you to know how it drives him crazy in this little game you were playing. But he stayed quiet and kept it that way.

“Can you check this for me?” He asked you to check improvements in the astrophage after some experiment he had done on it and moved away from his microscope.

Before he could move away from the table to give you space, you stopped his chair and caged him in with your arms.

It happened so fast that he was left frozen in place, completely caught off guard. 

You leaned over the lens, adjusting the focus with slow precision, while unbothered with the close distance of you to his exposed flushed face. Your face was so close to his that he could feel your warm air breathing in his neck.

“Relax, Dr. Grace. I won’t do anything stupid for these star eaters.” You said while not leaving your eyes in the lenses. That 'Dr.Grace', You does that whenever you want to mess up with him. Addressing him by his PhD yet in the most seductive way he's ever heard in his entire life.

He pressed his lips together and tried to hold his breath. “How about the stupid things you've done to me?” voice in the back of my head. After some minutes of torture, he was able to get some air when you moved, yet tried to not make it obvious.

All of you have assigned tasks to do which made the load lighter. Grace told you most of the things he learned on the ship when he realized that it takes more than one pair of hands to run this ship.

You were assigned in organizing and maintaining the ship records and monitoring the equipment, thanks to the Spacecraft systems engineering units that Stratt forced you to take in college. Rocky was the handyman more of a mechanic that could create pieces needed using xenonite. And ofc, Grace, the big space brain leading this so called team.

The three of you working doing rounds in the ship, as billions maybe trillion of life form depending on this mission to save each own sun.

Grace refused to have backup and told the two of you to continue what you were doing whenever but you insisted. Every time he needed to go out, you and Rocky monitored him. Over time, Grace got used to the set up.

You helped him to zipped up his space suit and had some finger tips brushing his nape. There's another random caress to his broad shoulder which triggers his endorphins. He faced you and you pushed his crooked eyeglasses towards his nose.

“Can you see me now?” You asked

He nodded and answered, “Yes, I can see you clearly.” Still his eyes were everywhere but not on yours. Clear obvious attempt to avoid your eyes.

“Let me just clean your suit real quick.” You said before reaching out for his boots.

For some moment, he was relaxed, waiting for you to finish. But then he realized something was off when he felt your hands crawling up to his legs through that thick layer of latex of his suit. As he looked below, he found you kneeling on him— yes cleaning his spotless suit. 

It added up to the tension he felt inside the suit when you looked up at him while you were still on your knees.

He found this unprofessional, unethical, inappropriate, enticing, alluring, mesmerizing, tempting, sexy and hard to take his eyes off.

“What else do you need, Dr.Grace?” Your face is at the same level of his torsos and from Grace’s point of view, it took everything in him to keep his thoughts from slipping somewhere they shouldn’t. 

“I—”

“Why Grace take so long to go out, question?” Your attention shifted to Rocky you heard from in-wall speakers from the panels.

You stood up and took Grace’s helmet, “So impatient…” and looked at him, “Hope you are not, Doctor.” You whispered before putting his helmet on.

Luckily, his suit was bulky enough to hide whatever had been triggered beneath it. “Oh my god… She is going to be the death of me,” he muttered under his breath as he entered the airlock.

Dealing with your random mixed signals was more difficult than going outside the ship to fix something else.

The task was completed successfully with no issue even going back inside the ship. Ryland has been training himself to prepare to catch astrophage once we arrive in Tau Ceti. You can say he's a pro already.

Since there was no sun to follow to sleep, a clock is essential in this ship for sleep. Grace often sleeps beneath Rocky’s glass room. Under him. For some reason, this bedtime Rocky became more anxious.

“Rocky, I’m fine. I’ve been sleeping in the dorm for months.” You explain.

“But Rocky, want to watch Woman sleep.”

“You have Grace to watch while he’s asleep.”

His rock fingers pressing together, “But Rocky wants to watch Grace and Woman sleep together.”

Grace puts his hand on his waist while facing Rocky like a wannabe strict dad, “No, Rocky. You can’t get everything you want. We will be sleeping like our usual setup. So it's a no.” He firmly said.

Grace set his blanket straight and lay his back on the mattress, trying to make himself comfortable while facing upside down Rocky. “So… this is the last thing you see every time you go to sleep?” You asked

“Yep.” simply answered your question while not moving an inch from his position. The room was still big for the three of you, yet felt small for Grace when you were right beside him.

Two separate solo mattresses yet felt too close when there’s nothing in between. 

“Grace sleeping, question?”

“Yes”

“How Grace answer, question?”

Grace pretends to snore, obvious snore.

Rocky was analyzing him “.....”

And he slowly opens an eye to take a peak on Rocky.

“Grace heartbeat fas—”

“YES! Yes, Rocky, I am still awake.”

You stifled and looked up at Rocky, “Let’s sleep now, Big boys. We still have to do some work tomorrow. Better to have enough rest.” 

Winking at Grace before going to sleep.

He knew Rocky would noticed how his heart beat changes. His hand immediately reached for his laptop and turned off Rocky’s automated voice.

< Grace heart beat so fast >

< Grace face heat increase detected. statement. > |

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡✮ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆｡°✩.˚ ݁ ˖ ✧ ‧₊:･ﾟ:･.˚｡☽ ･:･.:☁︎ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆𖦹. ₊ ⊹ . ₊˖ . ₊𓈒𓏸.°•･:. ₊˖ ˚｡ ･.:☁︎ ☽˚✩.˚ ݁ ˖ ✧ ‧₊ ･

“We have identified a viable method for breeding these astrophage. We are requesting additional time to produce sufficient amounts in preparation for the spacecraft’s journey to Tau Ceti.” Stratt presented in the meeting in front of the board members.

One of the team leads based on the structure of the spacecraft leaned closer to the microphone, “So how did you breed the astrophage?” He asked.

Stratt looked at Grace and eyed him to speak in the microphone. He mouthed, “Why me?” but it only takes Stratt’s firm glare for him to speak. 

“so—basically—we just… spread this stuff over a really big surface, let it soak up heat like it’s on a tropical vacation, and give it a nice, cozy, super-rich environment. Then there go you— Baby Astrophage woo!” 

There was a split second awkwardness that took place in the whole conference. Grace added, “You know, something casually resembling Venus and Sun. No big deal.”

“I hate it in here” He mumbled to you in his back. 

“You are doing great, sweetie.” You whispered back in his ears which made him blush in an instant. 

Been quite a while since Grace had been with someone else, he felt like being in high school again. He doesn't know if he'll get used to this setup. Can’t help but to let his face go red whenever he hears endearment. Your words were effective to help him calm after his very ‘professional intensive’ explanation to the board. 

Sometimes he imagines how his students will tease him once they find out about you. They would love you once he introduced you to them.

Stratt continued, “Based on our current research, it may take approximately three weeks to over a month to cultivate sufficient amounts of astrophage, and once that is achieved, the spacecraft will be ready for launch. woo~” She copied Grace but in a more neutral tone..

He pressed his palm on his forehead down to his face from embarrassment that made you softly giggle enough not to distract the conference but for him to hear. “Don’t mind her”

You lightly tugged him back enough to clear a space as Stratt moved in to take the seat when another lead took over the presentation. You placed a hand on his knee sliding up to his thigh. Closed door meetings and lights off made you more confident not to be noticed but only by him.

On the other hand, Grace stayed perfectly still, trying to keep his composure intact, but the slight furrow in his and his breathing betrayed him. 

He cough “hands” way of him telling you that you are in a serious discussion. 

“Oh, sorry.” You mumbled but slid your hand higher on his thigh, in a way more dangerous part than earlier. way closer to his.

You heard him cursing to himself while eyes are still on the slides of the projector, “Jesus" It stayed there for more minutes before giving him a quiet squeeze.

That’s it. That was too much for him to handle in such a room full of people— highly classified people.

He excused himself and left the room. For a moment, you only watched him. That was an easier way to take his ass off from this boring meeting than asking him. you knew he would choose to behave and stayed professional. His virtue is insane but cannot defeat you.

“Question, what are the conflicts that may be encountered during the exploration using the astrophage in your built ship?” You just dropped a question that was not part of their practice presentation of the Spacecraft analytic team.

That made other members in the board question themselves, even Startt. Buying  yourself some time. You made your way out of the room as follow up questions were being asked to the presenter.

A sigh was heard from a bathroom which you easily identified as Ryland’s. You enter it with no second thought and locked.

“What the heck! W-what are you doing here?”

“This is a gender-neutral bathroom.” and points out the sign in the bathroom door.

“You’re supposed to be in the meeting!” loudly whispers. He doesn’t also know why he panics when he hears you lock the door behind you.

“Yeah, so you too.” You simply answer and step forward to him.

He step backward. “I know what you are doing.” Grace said.

A mischievous smile formed in your lips, “I am doing nothing to you, Dr. Grace.” 

“Y-you are smiling! I know that smile.”

“Of course, I smile at you everyday.” You said raising your hands while stepping forward towards him. “Chill…” until his back hits the wall as you keep moving towards him, cornering him. 

“Someone might walk in and see us,” he murmured, voice low, careful. You had spent some night with him already but this was something he did not expect.

There was an unspoken agreement with you two to keep things discreet for the meantime. Grace had no problem with that, but not with this, of you, being close to him. tip of your noses touching each, he can feel your exhales in his own nostrils, you were too close like you weren’t afraid of being caught at all.

“No one’s walking in. They are too busy with that stupid project.” Your hands were in the hem of his knitted sweater. He was too weak to stop you, too weak by your touch and kisses in his neck.

He surrendered by closing his eyes.

“Ohh—” You covered his mouth when you heard footsteps from the outside. Putting a finger in his mouth telling him to keep his sound on him. Lips pressed together as your hands did the work of unbuckling his belt before sliding his hand inside.

“I won’t bite, Doctor…” whispering his ear before licking it. You wrapped your hand around his shaft. “But I can’t promise I can eat tho…” Sniffing his earlobe, his jaw down to his neck while leaving trails of soft kisses along the way.

You bend your knees and kneel down on him. 

Grace watches you as you take care of his pants and unzip it, letting his thing sprung out free. You still wonder how he kept this long himself only— at least he has only shared this to few. It involuntarily twitches whenever he feels the warm air from your breath on it.

You looked up at him and locked your eyes on him while your hands were busy giving him gentle strokes. “Let me take care of you, okay?” not breaking eye contact.

The view of you in his perspective while your hands wrapped on is something he doesn't think can hold for a long time. He feels like exploding anytime. You start by running your tongue in his shaft up to the tip and start to put it inside your mouth, slowly. Grace can’t do anything but to swallow his own sound.

You continue your way till you hit the base, but something you can’t take for a long time. You spill it out when it was about to hit your throat and immediately back on taking him, sucking, not letting air inside your mouth.

“Holy Mother of God.” he said, running out of breath, when you start to bob your head. He grabbed your hair and guided you, still can feel his gentleness through your scalp.

Bullets of sweat in his forehead were visible from your position, he was trying hard to last long and not to make any sound by gasping some air instead. “I might— I might come soon. You gotta spill it out or just— stop! Shit. Shit!” words breaking apart as he struggled to keep composure.

You knew he was that near when he leaned his head back while mouth was wild open and panting. 

“H-hey, you better stop n-now.. Oh— hey! hey!” He shouted quietly when speed it up but did not let it out. “Fuck!” Finally shout it out loud as he explodes it all inside your mouth.

”Shit shit shit” He didn’t pause to rest, he immediately took tissues and pulled up to stand, “Spill it out, spill it out here.” Grace said tissues in your chin but instead you swallow it all.

“You’re unbelievable…”

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡✮ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆｡°✩.˚ ݁ ˖ ✧ ‧₊:･ﾟ:･.˚｡☽ ･:･.:☁︎ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆𖦹. ₊ ⊹ . ₊˖ . ₊𓈒𓏸.°•･:. ₊˖ ˚｡ ･.:☁︎ ☽˚✩.˚ ݁ ˖ ✧ ‧₊ ･

Grace woke up covered with sweat. If the star gaze memory was unsure, this time it cannot be. Everything was so clear, detailed and felt so real. He can even feel your touch, it couldn’t be a dream only.

He must tell you this— this time he will not let this pass. 

Every step he took while looking for you was determined to know everything. He was looking for you everywhere. He must ask everything you know, everything you recall. Grace seeks answers.

He is the first man to explore outside the solar system. He can do everything— “Oh you’re awake. You need something?” but not in those shorts you were wearing, that must be illegal and banned in this ship. 

He raised his index and paused while trying to set his mind straight. Come on Ryland Grace, you can say it. “Nothing.” and walks fast back to Rocky’s cell. 

“Why Grace in hurry, question?”

“Need to sleep again.” covers himself with the blanket where he just woke up a few minutes ago.

If his calculations were correct, based on his memories that he has already recalled, there's a 37% chance he is correct about you two being together before. But there’s no way he’ll ask you about that, he had no plan to look like a creep with no enough evidence.

How are you gonna ask her, Ryland? 

Oh hey do you remember when we were at the navy station, we kissed right?

How about when we make out during the meeting with other world leaders? How about that?

Fuck it, Ryland Grace. That’s the most creepy way I’ve ever heard. 

Fucking memory loss. Fuck.

With that repetition of cussing in his head, he doesn't think he can go back again in middle school to teach kids.

You were observant—too observant not to notice. After a few days of him avoiding you, it left you with more questions than answers. It all started that night you slept beside him, something that never happened again anyway.

And his avoidance? It was painfully obvious. He’ll get something by himself when it’s literally beside you. Asking opinions were being asked to Rocky, even the goddamn flavor of ramen he will eat. He’s always been like that. You just need to give him some time.

You just set it aside and focus on the preparation and arrival in Tau Ceti.

Since Grace was trying to distract himself and diverting his attention to the mission, he’s almost working his ass off with no rest. This is how far he could go just to forget a thing.

✓ Comms

✓ Centrifuge

✓ Heat Shield

✓ Navigation Control Panel

✓ Atmospheric Analysis System

And etc

He knew you all were ready for this mission.

All of you were in the panel as the ship moved towards Tau Ceti. It was massive, green, and beautiful. You can’t get your eyes off it even just staring through the window in the control panel cell.

The light of it reflects on your face, “Majestic, isn't it?” you were too busy looking at Tau Ceti to see Grace on your side looking at you. “Yes, it's so beautiful.” He said before shifting his stare to the star.

By now, Grace had gotten past the worst of his panic. The memory of that dream is still in his mind, but it wasn’t enough to make him pull away from you or hide in embarrassment—not when you didn’t even know what it was about.

[ CENTRIFUGE DISABLED - PREPARE FOR GRAVITY SHUTDOWN ]

“Oh gooooood! here we go again.” You said with fear, regretting those days when you got time to learn how to manage yourself off gravity with Grace.

Grace removed his chair strap and swung towards you. “No, Please!” You plead

“You know you can’t stay here.” He said while you insisted on removing your strap, “I’m here. Don’t worry.”

Straps were removed one by one and released you from your seat. You immediately held Grace's shoulder while hand in your waist. He guided you off the Panel room.

When you reached the observation deck, he slowly let go of you. Grace was looking at you like a proud teacher. 

“See? You made it. Teacher is the best experience.”

Rocky was rolling in the mid air inside his glass ball. “That sound not right, statement.” You only laugh in response 

“Rocky, would you mind turning on the centrifuge after 10mns?” and Rocky did Grace’s favor before turning back to you.

“Now, try to swing towards me. It's just like you are swimming but in the air.” He said.

Hardly you swung towards Grace but you were able to do it. You were still holding on to him like you’ll fall anytime “You don’t need to push it by yourself. The walls are your friend.” Grace said and put his hand above, in the ceiling, to push both of you downwards. “See? Easy as that.”

In just a few minutes, you were able to stabilize yourself in the mid air. Grace leads you to the LED Dome and plays field scenery in the background. “So, this is how birds feel, huh?” You asked while still floating.

“Yes, freedom. right?”

You two were swinging like a child freely playing in a park. Flying, floating, levitating from left to right. Improvised fun in this isolated place meant for work only. 

“Ouch!” Grace complains when you accidentally bump into him. 

“Sorry!” placing your hand to his shoulder, “Sorry, I got carried away. Are you alright?” You asked him.

“I’m fine, It's alright.” He said while his hand went to your waist like he’s already used to. like he’s been doing that before. or really does…?

There were memory flashes in his mind while looking at your face.

“I wanted to see how pretty your face is…”

Tucked the floating hair to the back of your ear to have a better view of your face. “Just wanted to see… your face.” 

“I won't get tired looking into those eyes…”

He met your eyes and locked in on those, “Can’t get enough… looking into those eyes.”

“Hugging you was the best thing in the morning…”

His hand slides down from your shoulders to your soft arms. “You were the best thing that happened to me..” 

He continued but taking it back, “I mean haha great to have you in this m-mission.”

You were listening to every word he said. It was him. That was your Ryland over there. Eyes were forming tears. God knows how much you missed your man, and you can’t take it another day hiding, compressing your feelings. 

“My Rylan—”

[ CENTRIFUGE ACTIVATED - GRAVITATION ACTIVATED ]

Before you could even react, gravity snapped back into place, dragging both of you down at once. This time, you and Grace had been floating near the upper part of the dome—where the ceiling stretched higher—making the drop feel just a little longer, just a little harder.

“My back!” Grace complains, the pull of gravity plus the pressure from your weight and velocity made the fall worse for Grace since you were basically on top of him.

One thing’s for sure, Rocky did it again on purpose. 

You heard him rolling towards the dome where you both went in and stopped in the front of the door. “Grace breeding ready, question?”

“What?!” You could see how shocked he was.

“Grace body temperature is between normal and sick temperature. Grace breeding ready, statement.” and that was too much revelation for Grace.

“What th— No I am not! Can you please shut up?” Grace's defense and looked at you, “I am so sorry I don’t think he knows what he was saying.”

“Rocky no shut up. Rocky telling truth.”

“Oh my god…” Grace wanted to be swallowed by any nearby heavenly body. not to mention you’re still on top of him, you got a great view of how red his face is.

“Oh…” makes eridian laughing noise “Apology. Apology. Apology.”

“Grace was told to leave humans when breeding so Rocky went now, statement.” slowly walks away “Oh god— can you just go? please?”

Grace sat up and leaned on his elbow. “I never told him that.” You only nodded in response and fixed those stupid glasses to his radix and that hit him again. He's starting to think that is just one of your muscle memory.

“So where are we” Grace hummed, you sat in front him closer than usual. “What I was saying a while ago was— how do I say it— was not me. like not me right now. It was— It was—” He was trying to find the right word but more of telling you in another way than being directly on what he wanted to say.

“It could be from my past. A part of my memory that it POSSIBILITY happened. That is clearly involuntary. My body made me do that.” He was explaining it like he had killed someone.

“I think I am getting the point…” You were trying to understand what he is trying to convey.

“Right? Right?” Looking for more validation as he continued, “What I’m trying to say is—there’s a non-zero possibility that certain past memories of mine, involving another individual, overlapped with you in what happened earlier. And for the sake of clarity—as your colleague—I want to state that I have no intention of acting inappropriately or causing you any discomfort.”

“Okay, now I don't get it.” You said and you are starting to feel overwhelmed, it's too much words. but also, that's him. That is the Ryland you know. 

“What I mean is—” He tried to explain it again but the words just simply passed your ears and you were only watching him while  explaining. 

You tend to stop when you are overwhelmed, and your compressed feeling that you kept was too much to carry around and hide within you while in this ship. 

“And— and when I touched your arm, I don't want you to t-think I am fantasizi—”

Word cut off when you placed a hand in his face, fingers running to that stupid newly grown beard, and sealed his lips with yours. Before he could react, you threw your arms around his shoulder, pulling him deeper, and started moving your lips against his. 

Tension in his body has gone, his muscles relax, hands are on your waist and starts to respond to your kisses. 

You cut the kiss to look at his reaction, “I fucking miss you, Ryland Grace.” and pull him again. This time it was messy. All of the months you were keeping how you'd miss him was poured that kiss. 

His lips were moving in the same rhythm as you do. tips of your noses were bumping to each other and tongues were fighting for dominance while your hand running all over his head messing up his hair. 

More and more memories were flashing to his mind at once. This wasn't just a simple what his body wants, but also key to recall everything. He held you in your face and danced his lips along with yours.

Every move of his lips on you was meaningful. He finally remembered everything about himself, everything he had done and interest in gaining his PhD.

It helps so good when his brain releases dopamine when he recalls the moment he met you, worked along with you, shared a first night together and…

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡✮ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆｡°✩.˚ ݁ ˖ ✧ ‧₊:･ﾟ:･.˚｡☽ ･:･.:☁︎ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆𖦹. ₊ ⊹ . ₊˖ . ₊𓈒𓏸.°•･:. ₊˖ ˚｡ ･.:☁︎ ☽˚✩.˚ ݁ ˖ ✧ ‧₊ ･

Waking up next you was new for him yet serene. You him and a blanket covers you both. His arm and leg were wrapped across your waist and hips. Grace can sense you watching him even while his eyes are still closed. “Rise and shine, my favorite scientist.” You said while trailing his nose using your finger tip.

Those reddish lips were so inviting.

While for Ryland, Hugging you was a great start in the morning. He tends to pull you closer and wraps his arm tighter around you. “5 more minutes please…” He groaned while half of his face was still buried in his pillow.

“Have I told you how I like your eyes?” He asked.

“Everyday, Ryland. Everyday.”

“I won't get tired looking into those eyes.”

You throw light punches in his chest. “Stop that, Ryland Grace.” that made some strands cover your face.

He moves those strands of your hair to see your face clearly, “how pretty your face is.”

Time slows down when you are with him and don't notice that you have shared many moments with him. Time was slow yet fast. Yesterday he was trying to hide his feelings for you, now he is lying next to you. This is magic for him. 

Even how bad he wanted to stay in bed with you, there’s a job that needs to be done. 

Hot coffee on the table. Freshly cooked pancakes, and a drop-dead gorgeous chef. It’s his ideal perfect slow morning he never thought he would have.

“Where do you want to go this afternoon?” You asked since Stratt did not give anything for this week since most of the load has been passed to the Launch Team and for the preparation of the Project Hail Mary.

“How about hmm..” Took a sip of his coffee, “We just cuddle today?”

“We’ve been cuddling all night and all day long, Ry.” While your focus was still on the pancake you were cooking.

“Not enough” 

Because for him cuddling with you feels the most safest place in the entire universe.

While you continued to discuss with him what are the plans for today you were thinking about, his attention went to the message that he received from Startt. 

Strattosphere ✗ do not reply as possible✗: 2 scientists are dead from exposure. Need you to come to HQ now.

“Where are you going?” You asked him when he started running around the apartment. 

“Stratt needs me now. The scientists were… dead.”

“Oh gosh.” Hearing it felt like being poured with cold water on your body.

“Yes. This is serious. So I need to go now. Please take care here. I’ll call you if I need to. Okay?” He said before giving you a peck in your lips and walked out the door.

The headquarters was in a whole mess. Everyone was busy. Chaos was in every corner he looked. Closed door meeting was the only quiet place in this building. 

“If we miss this launch, it will set us back months.”

Grace sighed, “Yeah, but if there’s no one trained to do the mission, it won’t matter.”

“Casualty projection got exponentially if we delay. We will launch on schedule with the replacement scientist.”  

Grace removes his glasses, “Okay, but… who?”

As he looked up, everyone in the room was looking at him. He gave Startt a plain smile and she does it too as a response. “I am not an astronaut.”

“I don’t need an astronaut. I need an expert in astrophage- just mission ready.”  

“I am not ready. I don’t.. have any training. I am not an astronaut. I put a not in astronaut. I have never done anything— I have never been in space. I can’t even moonwalk! I can’t do this.”

Stratt kept her composure, “You are smart, You can figure it out. If you don’t go, you'll die anyway. Think of it.” 

Grace knows how important this mission is, but for him there are other heroic scientists on this planet who can be part of this mission. Smarter and wiser than him. What he mostly thinks about is his life. Even before he did value the life given to him. Especially now, that he has you.

“I am giving you 3 hours to decide.”

Immediately took out his phone and dialed your number as he made his way to your apartment.  “Come on, come on. Pick up the phone.”

After failed attempts to get in touch with you, he left you a message and continued to pack his and your clothes. He has this bad feeling about this. He can’t be complacent with this. 

After two hours of preparing his stuff and planning on where to go, you were able to pick up his phone. 

“Why aren't you answering my calls?”

“I’m so sorry. I went o-outside and and my phone was silent. What’s happening?”

He went more calm after hearing you alright, “Listen, I’ll explain to you later on. Stay where you are at right now, I’m gonna pick you up. Okay?” 

Grace grabbed all the important documents the two of you needed, along with a few essentials, and hurried into the car you’d let him borrow. He drove straight to the location you’d sent him. 

The thought that you were in something like a convenience store, maybe a gym or an establishment turned to confusion when he arrived in a field nearby a power plant. 

He ran towards you when he saw you in the middle of the grass field. He was catching his breath as he stopped in front you. “Breathe, sweetie. Tell me what happened”

“W-we need to go.. the scientist who was supposed to be on the mission, died.” He started, “Eva.. I think she is planning something and- and I have this feeling it won’t be only to me. Y-you need to come with me.”

You took a deep breath. He wanted you to understand why he’s making this impulsive decision for the two of you.

“But..” You bit your lips and tried to hold your tears.

Grace held your face and caressed it with his thumb to comfort you, “I know, I know. This is too much to handle and we need to make this decision, but we need to be quick.”

“You won’t understand, Ry… This is my life. I’ve been with Stratt almost my whole life.”

“Is that so? What if she throws you in the ship—”

“She won’t do that.” You defend.

“What about me? And us?”

You have no answers for that. Your silence was making it harder for him to decide whether to run away alone or still bargain with you. He looked away and wanted to scream.

“Ryland Grace..” You held his face this time and made him look at you. “You know how bad I want you, right? But Earth needs you more than I want you."

Grace was cut off when your lips met his. It felt the same—familiar, warm—the same kind of love he had tasted the first time. And in that moment, everything narrowed down to you.

In just a few months of being with you, he had already begun to picture a future—one where it didn’t matter where he ended up, as long as it was somewhere with you. He tasted bitterness yet this shared kiss was everything for him. 

“What do you mean by more than you want me?” he asked while staring at your face.

“Just please don't forget that…. You are taking my heart with you anywhere, even in the stars.” 

“You will be remembered as a hero, Ryland.”

Next thing he knew he was pinned down in the ground while being surrounded by security and medical personnel. Resisting was no help since there were 2-3 men behind him. 

“What is this?! No! Noo” He started to cry for help.

You were there, standing in front of him, with tears of guilt. He saw Stratt approaching and handed you a handkerchief before walking you away from there. The love he believes in was the one that betrayed him.

The last thing he saw was a glimpse of you looking at him for the last time before everything went black.

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡✮ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆｡°✩.˚ ݁ ˖ ✧ ‧₊:･ﾟ:･.˚｡☽ ･:･.:☁︎ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆𖦹. ₊ ⊹ . ₊˖ . ₊𓈒𓏸.°•･:. ₊˖ ˚｡ ･.:☁︎ ☽˚✩.˚ ݁ ˖ ✧ ‧₊ ･

The dome was still playing field in the background when Grace opened his eyes. You were still wearing the sweet smile after your lips parted from his but Ryland. He is in total devastation. 

Devastated from knowing the truth. Truth he once chased to remember. 

You can see the shift of his aura, you already have the idea. Yet afraid to know if you are on the same page. “Ryland, are you okay?”

He didn’t say a word but the way he pushed himself back was a sign. His index up—not harsh, just enough to stop you from coming any closer. eyes holding back his tears.

Grace quickly stood up and ran outside the dome. You followed him till you heard a scream coming from the containment facility. “Ryalnd!” You said in surprise of all of the mess, papers scattered, equipment overturned, all from out of his rage. 

Hands were on the table with his eyes red while facing the floor. 

“Did you?” he asked you with a broken voice. 

You knew this day would come, you knew he would react like this. Anyone in this situation would react like this, and he is not excepted. 

“Did you?!” that made you step back and dodge.

You made a small nod and answered, “...Yes. I’m sorry.” in that you are unable to hold back your tears.

He continued screaming, throwing things around and punching monitors in the facility. In that rage, he could hurt you but he did not. He only screamed and cursed around. You did not say a word because you know it won't be helpful. You can’t do anything on what has been done. 

“How.. how did you get in here, huh?”

“I don’t know…”

He cynically laughed at it, “You don’t know? You think I would trust that?”

“I don’t really know, Ryland, believe m—”

“How would I trust you?! You took away the life that I have! You made a decision for myself! MYSELF!”

He stopped for a minute, “Did you…”

“Did you make me fall for you on purpose? Was it all just to give me to Stratt?”

“N-no, I did not.” But he’s not listening to any words coming from you anymore.

You have no energy to say any excuse or even just a reason. You knew it was a mistake that you have tried to undone but cannot be. For meantime, you let him have his time. For himself, to think. 

By night, when you are sure he is resting. You clean his wound and cuts that he got from earlier. You were being careful to not wake him up but the amount of alcohol he took from Ilyukhina’s stuff was enough for him to sleep more than his body clock.

Time is running fast being wasted, the ship is just orbiting around the star doing nothing. 

You and Rocky took over running the ship’s maintenance, while Grace was still keeping himself from you.

“Why Grace angry, question?” Rocky finally asked you.

“Because…” exhales, “I did something wrong, and it is hard to forget it.” Everywhere he looks it reminds him of what you did to him. Grace won’t be here because of you.

“Did Woman sorry to Grace?” 

“Yes, I did. But I get it” You said and scratched your temple, “There are things that cannot be solved by simple sorry.”

“Eridian say sorry, Eridian forgives. statement.”

“I wish it could be easy like that, Rocky.”

You heard him making noise, noise that he often do when he is hurt. “Rocky don’t like see friend angry or sad. statement.”

“Word of encouragement. statement.” He added.

Your head turned a little when you heard familiar footsteps, but he did not stop to say a single word. Only one quick glimpse of you with vodka in his hand going back to his bed bunk. 

He wasn't an alcoholic, maybe the time when he woke up from a coma, but had never been in this consumption of alcohol in his entire life. You were very sorry for what happened and you did let him know that very well.

This setup continues, you tried to reach him out but he’s uncooperative. 

You were holding a plate in front of the observation lounge, chest rise and fall before entering it. “I cook some—”

“Not hungry.” He responded, not letting you finish your sentence. Grace’s leaning on the window, looking in Earth's direction like he can see it from here, lights years away from there.

No plan of pushing him through, but you wanted to talk at least about the mission all of you prepared about. Wasting time in here could be years of suffering back on your own planets. Not only on Earth, but also in Erid. 

Another 24 hours passed and you were worried when you saw Rocky getting anxious while waiting for the mission to take over. You need to step in.

“Hey…” your lips were irresistible, doesn’t know what right words to use. He noticed that you have nothing prepared this time, food nor water. “Sorry, I have only prepared food for myself since.. T-to avoid food waste. I’m just being practical.”

“What do you want?”

“To talk with you”

“We are talking…”

You finally look at his eyes, “About the mission. We need to at least know when.”

He sipped vodka from an IV bag like it’s just water, “They can wait.”

“But..”

“They waited years when they put me in a coma. In a coma!”

That made you shut your mouth and control your breathing to not break down in this room. 

“I know you’re mad at what I did to you,” you started, your voice low but firm. “And you have every right to be. But that’s on me—put it on me. Not on this mission. Because whether you accept it or not, this is bigger than us now. There are lives depending on this… on us.”

You added, “Don’t be so witless, Grace.”

You didn’t raise your voice, but every word carried weight, pressed carefully and deliberately, making sure he heard exactly what you needed him to understand. You marched out of the room with your eyes carrying the heaviness of your chest.

Rocky found you in the containment room where you were still fixing the mess Ryland did as he caused many equipment broken during his breakdown. You heard him roll closer from your back, “Is woman okay, question?”

“I am fine, Rocky. Thanks for asking you.” You did not face but Rocky knows. He can sense the amount of cortisol your body releases. 

“Rocky see Woman is not… okay. statement.” 

That is all you need to hear before dropping on your knees and letting your tears flow. You lean to Rocky and hug him. Rocky made sure you feel his sympathy by leaning closer to you even though there's a barrier in between. 

No words needed. You didn’t try to explain, didn’t try to hide it—you just let yourself feel, every emotion spilling out without restraint. This was the very first time showing someone what you really feel, something  never done in your whole life —it wasn’t even with a person. It was with Rocky.

Your forehead leaning against his glass, “We need to get going, Rocky. Whatever it takes. For Earth, For Erid.” 

You have no proper training outside the ship, cannot even control yourself during no gravity, but you cannot waste another day doing nothing. 

After wearing the suit, you ready the control panel for Rocky. You have decided to collect the Tau Ceti astrophage yourself and ofc Rocky will be in control of the ship.

“I’m all set now, How about you, Rocky?”

“Rocky is ready. Rocky great pilot.” He said.

You wear your helmet and exit the control panel room., but as you made your way towards the airlock, you heard alarmed in the in-wall speakers.

[ DECOMPRESSION CHAMBER UNLOCKED : EXTERNAL AIRLOCK OPEN ]

One thing came to your mind, Grace. 

You ran back to Rocky instead and there you were able to confirm it was Grace who went outside. Wearing that red uniform suit holding a xenon tool that Rocky built in his arms. You can see how he struggles in the way he walks on the surface of the ship.

“Ryland, What the fuck are you doing? You are not in the right state to do that!” You shouted in the comms. 

“Being witless…” He answered you, which made you roll your eyes, “...and a little bit heroic.” He added.

You were watching him the whole time he’s outside and followed everything he’s been asking. However it was miscalculated how low you should and now Ryland asking you to go lower.

“I cannot, I can’t do that Ryland. It’s too low altitude. We can do it again.” 

“It will take weeks again and we are reserving astrophage for our fuel. We have to do it now.”

He doesn't elaborate himself. You know what could be the consequences and how much time will be wasted again. Hesitantly, you move the lever and the ship begins to move towards the star’s atmosphere. 

“Fuck! Damnit!” You can hear Ryland screaming while pulling the chain.

“No. no. no. Too low altitude. Grace outside low altitude.” Rocky panics. There are many things that could happen, this is such a great risk. 

You wear your helmet and push Rocky to your seat. “Pull the lever now!” and you ran towards the decompression chamber making your way out of the ship. “Shit. shit. shit. Shit.” You said when you peaked outside and saw how far the Tau Ceti surface was.

The pressure of turbulence of the ship made it harder to reach Ryland. Little by little you step and crawl towards him. 

“What the he— what are you— doing here?!”

“Saving your heroic ass.” You said while still trying to reach him from the other end. 

As the ship began to rise, the pressure of the atmosphere made it harder for both of you to hold on,our vision blurred, your head spinning as if you might pass out at any second but you still commanded Rocky to pull the Hail Mary up and Ryland also agreed. 

“Keep it, Rocky, we are f-fine.” 

But in just a second, Ryland passed out. “Ryland? Ryland!”

With no other option, you let go of your grip on the ladder, trusting only the rope tied to you as you moved as fast as you could toward him. You took his rope and pulled his unconscious body towards. “Fuck, Ryland! Wake up!” You are pulling his weight and the mass of Xenonite with astrophage on it.

You pull him harder, every muscle straining and one leg hooked around the ladder for support, until you manage to grab onto his suit along with the chain of the astrophage catcher. Wraps his rope and chain around your hand and arm to secure them as the ship made out from Tau Ceti’s atmosphere.

“When Grace wake up, question?” No one knows. You couldn’t give more information than no, but never failed to check him, even though you are also healing from the injuries you got from that incident. 

It’s been 24hrs since he passed out but you still can't see a response from him. You only knew his vitals were stable. You manage to look after Grace while enduring the injuries you got.

Muscle strain, broken hand and massive hemorrhage in the back of your leg. None of it worries you more than Grace’s situation. You are afraid that he might take years again to wake up.

“Did Grace wake up, question?”

That sound familiar to you, seems like you heard it from a dream or somewhere. You kneel down to at least level Rocky. “No, Rocky, Grace hasn't woken up yet.” You said but Rocky’s attention seems like not on you, you couldn’t identify, you just know he’s not facing you.

You went back to check the astrophage in a microscope, “Well, we don’t know.” and sighs, “Hope he won’t take years to wake up again.”

“Yeah, lucky me, it didn't take me light years to wake up a second time around.”

….and he was there, standing in his gown with some IVs still on him. 

“Grace awake! Grace awake! Grace awake!” 

Heart beating in your chest. You couldn’t move an inch. Not even a step. You were stuck watching him and Rocky hug. He looked pale, unsteady—but awake. Alive. Real in a way that made your chest tighten all at once.

“I think I deserve a congratulatory— uhm— hug? After my heroic move out there.” He said.

You ran as fast as you could towards him and kissed him torridly. Not moving your lips but only breathing in while both your lips were steady to this shared moment. He did not stop you.

“S-sorry… got carried away.” You murmured, “Plus I am injured, I can’t hug.” You said while showing the bandage wrapped around your arms from the strain you got. 

“U-understandable…”

Since he needed rest, you guided him back to his bed. He was still quieter around you, but it didn’t feel as heavy anymore. 

You didn’t expect things to go back to how they were—you’d take whatever he was willing to give, whatever this became. All that mattered was that he was safe. 

“For the record, I didn’t want you out there, not when you were drunk the entire week.” You finally use words to scold him.

“For the record, someone forgot my PhDs and told me I am stupid.” keep himself in bed.

Your simple response, “Conceited.”

The awkward silence takes place again in the room while you were busy checking his vitals and putting it on record. “What’s two plus two?” You asked.

“Oh please— Not that question.” That made you softly laugh and so did he. Even just pulling your other leg, you manage to walk and sit beside him.

“I haven’t formally apologized to you.. For what I did.” You started. “I am really sorry for making that decision. For you. To your life. There’s no excuse, it was entirely wrong.” 

This time he is being cooperative by listening to you. You continued, “I have many things I haven’t told you before. I am an orphan and Stratt is my aunt. Aunt Eva takes care of me— well take care of my needs starting when my parents abandoned me. So I owe her everything I have.” There was a visible surprise in his reaction when he heard it.

“All of the things she told me to do, I followed. I have no control in my whole life. 25 years existing on Earth and I haven’t been on a proper date with anyone haha— anyways, even though it was hard for me, I do what she told me to and hand you over to her.” 

You took a deep breath, “This is not an excuse, I am not telling this to reason out. It’s more on for you to know what’s behind this and to clarify that.. I did not intentionally make you fall for me on purpose because I did not intentionally fall for you too, before.”

After weeks long of studying astrophage from Tau Ceti which you all named as Taumoeba, Grace discovered the life on it is the reason why the Star remains uninfested unlike its neighbor stars.

Luckily Rocky has a way to make their population grow that may not need to go and catch them in Tau Ceti’s atmosphere. It was a total win for everyone. 

It was fun to do the job with Rocky, he has a lot of things to share and so do you two. With this advanced discovery of breeding the astrophage, it also means you all separate with Rocky early since he needed to deliver it back to his home planet to save their star.

“We will miss you, Rocky.” You said while hugging his glassball.

“Rocky enjoy mission with Grace and Woman…” 

“... but Rocky needs to go home now. statement.”

You can sense from behind you Grace was holding his tears. Rocky rolled back to his ship and did the final wave before you closed the door. This whole time Rocky is there for you two. No rolling sound, no random question. It was peaceful but it was longing for him to treat family. Now it feels different when he’s not around. Especially for Ryland. 

“You can cry now.” a queue for him to whine like a baby.

Two of you agreed and met halfway to be just friends. For you that settles, better than nothing. You can now work with nothing else to think aside from the mission.

You were looking at the spaces where Rocky used to occupy. “So it's just us now, huh?”

“Yep, just us.” He exhaled out.

Tension between you cannot be denied, something neither of you could just brush aside—not after everything you’d shared. The moments you had together lingered, quietly refusing to fade.

And yet, neither of you crossed the line. stayed where it was safe.

You look at him, “So what now?” 

“We go study unevil astrophage and we go home.”

You just finished putting the astrophage in their xenonite containers and let them breed on it. It took hours of continuous labor to propagate them early. You removed your gloves, surgical cap and everything removed aside from your lab coat.

Grace, in his lab coat, entered the room with drinks in his hands.

“It’s non-alcoholic.” He said

You smiled, “Yeah because you drank it all.”

Whenever you make some skin contact with him, he still has a reaction. That's where you identify that you still have this effect on him but you were trying to avoid it. Stayed professional.

Grace was waving his index finger while nodding, “You know what, I just realized something. Being kidnaped and forced to be detained here wasn’t bad at all.” You glared at him

“I mean I got to explore outside our solar system, save stars, bond together and most importantly make friends.” He said, referring to Rocky.

“Yeah, you’re correct. I am glad that you accept me again— you know— as your friend.”

That made his forehead furrowed, “Friends?” He asked in confusion.

“Yes, friends. right?” You asked and faced him before giving your hand to shake, “Oh, we haven’t formally agreed to it, so…”

“...friends?”

He was looking at your hand and hesitantly held it, “Friends…”

“Friends.” You repeated it. You could see hesitation in his face, “What is it, Ryland?”

“Sorry. It’s just..” Grace is not letting go of your hand and his grip is getting tighter.

“Ryland, my h-hand.”

“It’s just, I don’t think we could go back to being friends again…” He finally looked at your eyes and it was full of desire. 

“....Do you know how bad I miss you?” Grace.

That made you confused as he does, “You are so confusing, Ryland.”

“Me? You are confusing one.” He responded, letting go of your hand. You two start raising voices.

“You did agree for us to be friends.” You said

“I never said anything.” 

“It's an unspoken thing. I thought we were meeting halfway.” 

He stood up and put his hand in his nape, “See? Unspoken. that is making me confused right there.” Grace pointed out.

“Becuase sometimes you are mad then happy then quiet. I can’t read you.” You explain.

Your voices were so loud that you could hear from the other rooms, “It's because— I am keeping myself from doing anything stupid!” He said.

“Stupid what?”

He took some time while looking at the ceiling not trying to make eye contact with you, “Something stupid like this—” He murmured before looking at you and within a second he caught your lips. 

Your eyes widened, blinking once like you hadn’t caught up to what just happened. He moved his face enough to see your reaction, “Y-yeah, that was stupid.” You said.

His hand was still in jaw, catching breath on what he impulsively did. “More stupid?” He asked and one nod from you was enough answer for him. 

This time he went slowly ensuring you would catch up. His lips moved just like how you wanted. While his lips were busy on yours, his hands slipped down to your soft arms and caressed up and down. Grace is being cautious in every move he is doing, making sure you are fine. 

Your hand came up and rested in his chest. Your non-verbal response as approval was all he needed from you. however Grace couldn’t maintain it slower due to his longing for you. 

“I freaking miss you..” He said in between your lips. 

“Show me how you miss me.” You respond as your arms make their way wrapping to his shoulder.

Grace went back to your lips and walked backwards till your hips hit the edge of a table. He lifted you up, made you sit on it. His lips never left yours, tongue won dominance and started to explore inside your mouth. 

Your eyes were half-open while his were shut. 

The perfect tip of his nose bumps against yours side to side since his mouth is never consistent on one side. Next thing he focused on was your neck. His kisses were messy just like how you wanted.

“We need to let go of this…” his husky breathless voice groans in your ear asking to remove your coat. 

“As you wish, Doctor.” You said, eyes closed.

You knew how he liked it when you called him that. He didn't think that his PhD could be something more than in his field until you use it in your first time with him. You heard him cuss and start to remove his coat and shirt revealing his thick chest that his shirt barely hides.

“Vegans would hate you for being this beefy.” your hands trace the veins in his arms. “Please don’t tease me.” he said while your hand trailing the veins peaking out from below his pants.

His hand took the hem of your shirt and lifted it, continuing it till no piece of cloth covered your body. He would never get enough with the view of your body. 

He slowly kneeled down and kissed your foot and sniffed your legs upwards. Kissing starts from your knee to your inner thigh before parting your legs apart showing all of yourself to him. 

It all started with a lick, you felt his whole tongue in your fold. You have no idea where to put your head with this pleasure you get from Ryland. His glasses weren't helpful but he kept it anyway, making him look witlessly handsome while his tongue was busy trying to get inside your hole.

His tongue moving inside you was making you unable to hold it longer. His hand was on your clit and circling it in the right rhythm and the other was holding your thigh to pull you closer and to make his tongue enter you deeper. “If.. you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum soon.”

Grace stayed a little longer before standing up again and taking his pants off letting his member sprung out freely. sensitive. thick. throbbing. You can now trail the veins you were tracing earlier to where it leads. As your finger reaches his cock veins, he exhales like losing his mind. Because he does. “E-enough..”

He swept everything off the table in one motion, not caring what fell or broke, and gently laid you back against it.

“Ready?” Grace asked, drooling on you.

“Yes, give me what you have, Doctor.”

You don’t need to ask him twice. He enters you with all inches. You screamed out. “Motherf— take it slowly!” 

But he wasn’t listening, “I told you I miss you, right?”

“Yes! but let me adjust first— fuck, Ry! wait!” He indeed shows you how bad he really misses you by not wasting time and moves inside right away. He was needy of you and he is not denying neither hiding it. 

Taking a leg and putting it in his shoulder to give a better space to move inside you deeply. “Ohh fuck, Ry!” You were moaning his name out loud that could be almost here in the entire ship.

You were considered lucky that he has a good amount of precum that serves as lubricant along with your wetness. His pace was getting faster every time he thrusts inside you. “I miss you. I miss you so fucking bad.” He was chanting it again and again, making sure you understood what he meant but his thrust was enough to understand it.

Grace throws kisses all over your body while his thrust is getting slower but deeper like he was trying to reach something in you. Not long you felt almost pulsing in your walls, “Ry… I’m near.. O-oh gosh..” You started to plead with him and bury your face in his neck. He did follow it, hitting the same spot at an incredible pace but not being too hard. With one good thrust of him inside you, orgasm broke all over you. 

While you are getting over your orgasm, His lips met yours and torridly, messy kissed you. You knew he was that near and you helped him lose himself by giving him a squeeze. Mouth wide open, damp hair from the sweat in his hair and uneven placement of his glasses. He is losing his mind. After hard thrusts, he took himself out and released it on your belly.

“That is a lot.” You said while looking at his releases dripping to your side.

“I know, the last time I got laid was light years ago.” He said and took nearby tissues to wipe it, cleaning you.

He helped you to sit, “You’re so beautiful.” while giving you small kisses. 

You pushed his glasses again to his radix.

“Those glasses are incredibly shockproof.”

“Yes, it is.” He said and continued to give you peck. “You know, “I’ve been holding this feeling ever since you woke up—”

You cut him off “I know it.”

“You know it all? H-how?”

“Aside from you being too obvious, Rocky told me too.”

“That little brick.”

At that time, you knew that spending light years going back home would be this interesting and fun. You two have no idea what will be next but whatever it will be as long as you are together, even exploring the universe and its infinite possibility. 

Your moment was interrupted with the alarm going on and alerts the entire ship. 

[ ALERT : CONTAINMENT BREACH ]

[ ALERT : CONTAINMENT BREACH ]

[ ALERT : CONTAINMENT BREACH ]

“Oh no… Rocky…” You both say in chorus.

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡✮ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆｡°✩.˚ ݁ ˖ ✧ ‧₊:･ﾟ:･.˚｡☽ ･:･.:☁︎ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆𖦹. ₊ ⊹ . ₊˖ . ₊𓈒𓏸.°•･:. ₊˖ ˚｡ ･.:☁︎ ☽˚✩.˚ ݁ ˖ ✧ ‧₊ ･

Your feet stomping that you were hiding under the table, heavy beat of heart, sleepless nights, all of it because of your conscience that now you are trying to correct. You came to your Aunt’s office after days of being ignored. 

“What brings you to my office? During my busy schedule…” Stratt started with her neutral voice. It's only 2 days away from take off of the ship and you need to get things right asap.

taking a full breath, “I wanted to take back, take him back from this project.” The only reaction she gave you was a movement of a brow. 

“He has contributed a lot of things for this mission, more than enough. Nobody has been dedicated more than him. So please… Don’t do this to him.” You plead to your aunt. 

“You are making me more convinced he is the ideal candidate to replace the scientist.” Stratt response.

You shook your head, “You are not getting the point, Aunt. We are taking this man’s life from him. This is against his rights. His free will!” This is the very first time you raise your voice in front of her, the first time speaking out on the woman you owe everything to.

She stood up, hands in her pocket, and slowly walked towards the window where see the Hail Mary ship from far. “Human rights huh” 

“There will be no human rights if there’s no one left.” She added.

You knew you couldn’t convince her that easily, so you need to pull up your last resort. “Take him back or…. I’ll let the press know.”

Stratt wanted to explain herself more, but she thought it would be only redundant as you already knew her reason. Not only the pressure of responsibility she is carrying, but also for humanity.

She slightly turned her head to you, “Fine.”

“But I want you to see this first…” 

You obeyed it and walked towards her side. 

“I always knew you were this brave, brave girl, a very flexible girl and can do whatever nature requires.”

She turns to her back and waves to something else. Next thing you saw was the familiar security personnel and medical attendant. You started to panic but had nowhere to go.

“No! Noooo!” Just you felt the same betrayal Grace felt days ago.

Resisting was no help with these men who pinned you down on Stratt’s office floor.

“Please! Don’t do this!” You cried out.

“There’s billions of life depending on this. The world leaders are counting on me. I can’t mess it up, whatever it takes…” She was standing in front of you. emotionless.

“Plus our scientist out there might need assistance, and you were with him the whole time. So I wonder why not hire another one for this project.” She was only staring at you while you kept trying to resist.

“But Madam, we have no time to prepare another bag for her.”

“Let’s just ask Ilyukhina to bring more of her stuff.”

Your fingers scratch on the floor and attempt to push yourself out from being pinned, but it is meaningless. Blubbering for your fate. You have nothing to do but to accept the drug being injected to your body leading to your coma bed.

Next thing you saw was red laser light through your eyes, vision was blurry, muscles in your body were numb, it felt like you slept for decades.

There was a man with a familiar voice.

“What's two plus two?” “Four…”

“What is the root cube of 8?” “Two…”

“What is the factorial of 6?” “Seven hundre— That wasn't asked to me before.”

You don't understand what was going on but you knew how to answer the question, “Seven hundredzbs— glunnn— twenty” 

The man was trying to help and guide you, but you can't comprehend every word he says. Your body automatically reacts when you see an unfamiliar creature behind him, but it wasn't fear. only surprise due to unfamiliarity.

“I don’t want you to freak out, but I believe you should and you must be aware of this— that you are not on Earth anymore.” He explained, 

“You are in Project Hail Mary. Welcome aboard”

“cheer! cheers! cheers!”

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡✮ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆｡°✩.˚ ݁ ˖ ✧ ‧₊:･ﾟ:･.˚｡☽ ･:･.:☁︎ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆𖦹. ₊ ⊹ . ₊˖ . ₊𓈒𓏸.°•･:. ₊˖ ˚｡ ･.:☁︎ ☽˚✩.˚ ݁ ˖ ✧ ‧₊ ･

Soft kisses touch his cheeks just like how the sunrise kisses the morning.

“Good morning, Mr. Grace.” You greeted him.

“Good morning too, Mrs. Grace.” Your husband greeted you back. He was looking at you like he doesn’t comprehend what’s happening. “Are we really actually married?” He asked.

“Hmm Yes. I said I do and you did too. Unless you don’t respect the tradition.”

“Wow, we are married for real. I just can’t believe it…”

He reached you out and kissed you on the lips, but before you could do anything, he pushed you down back in the bed lying on your back. You couldn’t stop him, you have no strength to stop him.

“Ry. we just spent the whole night.” You protest while he is busy in your jaw. He paused for a second and looked at you while pinning your hands to the sides of your head. 

“Rocky spent a century long with his mate and still not enough, what more to a human like me?” You both laugh at it, when he was about to get back to his business on you, a loud knock echoed against the door.

“Knock knock!” a computer generated voice

“Who’s there?!” Ryland

“Rocky. Statement.”

“Rocky statement who?”

“Rocky no understand Grace humor.” Rocky said. Ryland got up and opened the door and saw Rocky patiently waiting with a banner but in Eridian Alphabet. 

“Word of congratulatory, statement.” He said and then entered the house the same time you made your way to the living room. “Hi, Grace Woman.” He greeted you.

“Hi Rocky!”

“I think I should change my name in his translation to Ryland” He said while looking at his laptop. “Because you know, we are both Grace now.”

“Rocky no like Grace other name, Rocky likes call Grace- Grace. statement.”

“Her name is Grace now too, there will be confusion there.”

“Woman Grace?” Rocky suggested

“Too long”

“Grace Grace and Woman Grace.”

“Nope.”

“Grace 1 and Grace 2”

“No, not with numbers”

“Grace Woman?”

“You just switch the first one!” 

You can’t help but to giggle and continue to watch them, “Alright boys, that’s enough.” 

You went to Rocky’s laptop and code ‘Mrs. Grace’ 

“Simple as that. Try it out, Rocky, call me.” You said

“Mrs. Grace— Ohh Mrs. Grace. Rocky like this. Mrs. Grace always amazing. Statement.”

After the astrophage leaked inside the ship, you both decided to prioritize saving Rocky, since the breach came from the xenonite as it broke out of its container. Most of the shared astrophage was already sent back to Earth, securing enough for them to study and breed along with the research you and Ryland has done.

Instead of returning home, you chose to head to Erid to conserve what remained—combining your resources to make the journey faster. With what was left of the ship’s fuel slash astrophage from chasing Rocky’s ship, going back home wouldn’t have been possible anyway.

“So we…” He looked at you and back to the camera lens, “...have decided to stay here on this planet for good.” His hands intertwined with yours.

“Based on the last coordinates we received, we understand many of you were worried about us here on this planet. We want to assure you that we’re doing fine. There’s a lot keeping us busy, and the Eridians have been very accommodating.”

You paused there, choosing not to share more. You both had agreed to keep the details as limited as possible—for the Eridians’ safety.

“Alright! I am going to play our wedding video from yesterday. So you could witness our special perfect day as we bond as one, as husband and wife.”

He took his laptop and played a clip first to check the video.

“In the presence of your family,  friends and Eridians, you have joined yourselves in marriage. I, Rockiest, declare your marria—”

“Did you just name him Rockiest in his translation?”

“Why? He is the eldest Eridian alive?”

“You’re unbelievable…”

“Can we just finish our wedding first, Sweetheart?”

Ryland pressed his lips together and made a pop before closing his laptop. “We don't have to prove ourselves. We got married and that's it.”

He went close to the camera and placed his finger on its button,

“We’ll see your response in the next 3-5 light years. For now, your favorite space couple, signing out.”

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡✮ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆｡°✩.˚  ݁ ˖ ✧ ‧₊:･ﾟ:･.˚｡☽･ﾟ::･. ⋆.˚｡:･ ˚｡

Note: Thank you again to those who read the first part and especially those who came till this part. You are awesome human beings 👎

We are no Stratt hater. We support Eva’s rights and wrongs ✊🏽

Coming soon:  SHORT AU - RYLAND X FEM!READER || Genre: Fluff / smut

Professor Ryland x fem!reader assistant/librarian

Synopsis: Teacher Grace has a rumored girlfriend ( established relationship? )

This sequel stresses the shit out of me, so I'll be just writing fluff with a bit of smut next. Open for tag!

Open for request! writing anything not men being dominant unless needy

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Hope yall could check my other works

RYAN GOSLING FF (Lars Lindstorm) - PAPA BEAR 🧸

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credits: @multi-fandom-imagine a scene in this sequel base to Rocky Leaves the Room… On Purpose || Ryland Grace ||

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Grace felt his heartbeat begin to race as he realized the situation he was in. Then he stopped breathing. You getting comfortable…now included nuzzling into his neck, soft breaths tickling the underside of his chin.

Rocky was above, watching over you both. The nightmare that you had helped Grace out with last night had scared Rocky bad. Rocky had learned about two things last night. Nightmares and the cruelty of other humans.

Grace was sure that he wanted to ask Rocky about his thoughts on the matter because do Eridians have cruelty? They must right? But they are also aliens with their own culture and Rocky was so nice! Anyway, Grace had to table that thought that raced through his brain because many thoughts were currently racing through is brain and a few of them had priority.

For one, Rocky. Rocky waking you up. You would wake up, realize the position you were in and it would make things awkward. After last night and the trust that had been strengthened through the ordeal, Grace was not willing to let them take two steps back. They had been through a lot and he could not imagine that this would make things better.

Two, Grace really, really, really wanted to spend a few more minutes like this. He felt selfish thinking this thought, but he had not been held like this in a long time. The last time he had nearly full contact with another being had been that fateful, tragic, horrifying day back on Earth when he had been…well, no… he didn't want to think about that anymore.

He had relived it too much last night to think about it again first thing.

"Rocky! Don't speak. I can't change the volume on your program right now, so if you speak, she will wake up." Grace whispered, bordering on whispering aggressively loud, almost speaking levels. Rocky seemed to click his claws together in amusement at Grace's tone. "I'll watch over her while she sleeps, bud, why don't you go work on something somewhere else."

Grace waited, crossing his fingers on one hand. Rocky seemed to tilt his body slightly, as though squinting at Grace. Grace waited, eyes pleading toward Rocky, even though Rocky probably couldn't hear the facial expression.

Finally, Rocky got up, slowly rolling his ball out to the other side of the Hail Mary. Grace hoped Rocky understood that he wasn't in trouble or anything, but just that Grace needed some time. Alone.

Well, not alone. You were here.

In bed. Snuggling up to him.

Grace had to take another slow, deep breath as he gave his full attention to this new development. Sometime in the night, you had exchanged holding hands with laying very close together. Grace's left arm was resting on your back as you laid on his chest, your face still tucked into his neck.

Grace's could barely see your face, you were so close. The ship kept a fairly cool temperature, fighting heat coming from the equipment inside, as well as the void outside sucking away any extra heat. You must have gotten cold, the one blanket shared between the two of you not enough to stop goosebumps raising along your arms.

Your solution in your sleep was to get close, share body heat.

He could feel one of your legs thrown over his, half of your torso insulating his chest, and your arm tucked into his side. Now that he was awake, the vignette of sleep no longer blurring his thoughts, he realized he was overwhelmed.

It had been so long since he had touched another human. Last night, he hadn't been fully coherent during the hug, just relying on comfort to get him out of his nightmare. He had been aware of the hand holding, but this… this felt different.

His breathing stuttered again as his mind shortcircuited, but this only nudged you even closer to the brink of daylight, your eyes fluttering at the sudden movement of the body under you.

Grace took a deep breath, mimicking your own as you slept. He was being selfish, but he wanted to lay like this longer. Feel the weight of your body. Engage in human contact for the love of it because that is what it was right? He was just starved for touch. It had been so long, so many days before you had woken up, alone. Even longer for you to begin to get close enough to brush fingers when exchanging tools or holding a hand over a back as one shuffled past another in a small space.

This couldn't be anything else. Grace told himself that he couldn't let himself float away into what could be.

It wasn't time. Maybe it would never be, but especially now, it wasn't time.

He dared to drag a light hand over your back, something so light, it couldn't even be ticklish. Just a gentle, soothing motion, helping you stay asleep.

He took another deep breath, hoping it would slow his heart rate down. He was sure that you would wake up, your ear right over his heart, where it was thumping as though it was trying to escape from his ribcage.

He had started to recite pi in his head, hoping to distract himself, when you moved again.

Your arm reached out from under his side, patting around the side of the bed. He stared, watching as you grasped around, huffing in frustration. He wanted to help you out, give you what you were looking for so you wouldn't wake fully, but the blanket was already around you and there was nothing else for you to grab on the bed.

Then, you patted closer to you, and accidentally patted Grace's arm, lying out straight.

You kept searching, outlining his forearm, then his wrist, the drag of your fingers raising goosebumps on his skin, before…

Oh.

It hadn't been an accident.

You laced your fingers with his, bringing them up closer to you. Now your head was on his heart and your hands were together in the leftover space.

You sighed, before stilling again.

Ok. Mission failed. Grace's heart had skyrocketed. It was gone. Back all the way to Earth. There was no returning down from this level.

Now that he had time, he savored every second that you were this close. This wasn't just comfort, this was right. This felt like it was meant to be. He knew how he came to be on this ship, so far from home, but he still couldn't remember why you were here. It had to be a kind of cosmic fate, a roll of the dice so ridiculous that it actually did happen.

Of the four people put on this ship, on this mission, with all the odds against them, somehow you and he had survived. You had both woken up.

And again, he had woken up before you. Except now, he knew how much you meant to him. You weren't just someone in a chamber, some random face that could have been anyone.

You were… you. You were his best friend, his partner in crime, the person who would laugh at his silly jokes and then turn around and make him laugh. You were so smart, smart enough to be on this mission to save Earth. You held him when he cried, supported him anywhere you could, and you were kind. You would spend so much time with Rocky, explaining words and Earth culture simply because Rocky was curious. You would bring extra skittles to Carl and him while they were working, and run errands for Stratt, even though it wasn't your job.

You were everything to him.

He realized now that his body had gone on autopilot while he went down memory lane. He was dragging circles on your wrist with his thumb and stroking your back with his other hand, doing everything he could to keep you comfortable and asleep.

"I really love holding you."

With his quiet confession lingering in the air, he felt you release a big sigh, the soft exhalation brushing his chin. Then… he felt you squeeze his hand three times.

He froze, eyes widening.

He desperately wanted to see your face, see if you had woken up. He tried lowering his head, peering to see your face. He could just make out your soft lashes, closed, brushing the top of your cheek.

He returned the pattern, three squeezes, hoping it wasn't a fluke. Hoping that you remembered.

Instead, your eyes fluttered. A mumbled, "Five more minutes, please," escaped from your mouth as you shuffled around to get comfortable.

Grace was already panicking, red rising up his neck to his ears and his hand began to shake in yours.

That's when you became fully conscious. Your head popped up from his chest, eyes staring at your hands holding each other. You looked down, seemingly taking in the fact that another body was next to you. Not even next to you. Under you.

Your eyes snapped to Grace's, his mouth opened in the shape of an 'O', words flashing through his brain, but nothing catching.

You both stared at each other for a few seconds, before you blurted out, "You're a good pillow!" before you cringed at yourself.

His eyebrows furrowed and his head tilted slightly in disbelief. A shocked laugh escaped him, causing you to giggle at your own awkwardness.

"You are! You are a great pillow!"

"That is not…what I expected the first thing you would say when you woke up," Grace huffed out in between laughs.

"Oh, really? What did you expect me to say?"

"Oh, something like, get off of me, what are you doing, Rocky, get help?"

"I would never!"

Grace looked down at you, laughs subsiding. A softer expression spread across his face and his eyes flickered between your own and your hands holding his.

You looked back at him, before saying,"I like holding hands with you."

A smile broke out on his face, like sunshine entering through a window as bright as a sunrise.

"I do too."

You smiled back. You then rested your head back down on his chest. "I was serious about those extra five minutes."

You peeked back up at him, "If you are ok with it?"

"Yeah, I'm ok with it. Anything you need."

He saw your cheeks move as a small smile graced your lips, you tucking away back into his chest, hiding.

You both laid there, listening to each other breath, and Grace went back to rubbing circles into your skin on the back of your hand.

Five minutes later, Rocky's hamster ball tumbled into the room.

"Humans awake! Five minutes passed. Time to get up. Time go to help Rocky! No more hugging without Rocky!"

You looked up at Grace, then Rocky, and back to Grace before rolling your eyes.

"Rocky is so punctual."

"Rock's practically an alarm clock. Always comes in at the exact moment I don't want them to."

"Rocky hear humans. Humans talk bad about Rocky. Not appreciate Rocky."

Grace and you stumbled out of the bed together, talking over each other about how much you appreciate Rocky and how good Rocky is, how helpful Rocky is.

Rocky laughs at you two, rolling toward the lab.

As you walk back to the main part of the ship to get some breakfast before beginning your work, you bump Grace with your shoulder, smiling.

Human beings should not weigh so little. Not people who had once been upright and talking and moving through the world under their own power. Not people who had, at some point, eaten meals and laughed at jokes and boarded a ship of their own free will. 

This trip had taken nearly everything from them; their muscles had wasted away into almost nothing. Under the material of the bags, there had been hardly more than bone and parchment-thin skin, their forms narrow and diminished; he found it hard to focus without his throat seizing up. 

Get it together. 

He apologised to them for the way he was handling this. It seemed important they know he understood this was not good enough.

The bags themselves were a thick material zipped neatly to the throat, each with a small, clear plastic window over the face. He had hated that part at first. Then hated the idea of covering them entirely even more. There was something unbearable about both options. Hide them, and it felt callous. See them, and it felt unbearable. 

Two bad choices, neither of them deserved. 

He had insisted on doing it alone. Well, not alone, exactly. You had followed him the first time anyway, and he didn’t stop you; your steps still slightly uneven but much steadier than when you’d first woken up. You were filled with fatigue, your body still catching up, but there was a stubbornness to the way you followed that he was beginning to understand was not temporary. It seemed pretty foundational, actually.

You had folded your arms and looked at the first body bag, then at him.

“I can help.”

Ryland had been halfway crouched already, one hand braced beneath as he looked up at you over his shoulder, shaking his head. 

Absolutely not. 

Call it old-fashioned chivalry, call it the deeply unscientific belief that if there was a woman and a pile of corpses on a metal ship in space, the woman should be exempt from corpse duty. Whatever the label, he was not letting you carry dead astronauts on your first day awake.

Your expression had not changed. “Grace.”

“I’ve got it.”

“I want to help.”

You said it matter-of-factly. It was very considerate of you, but he would stand firm on the matter this time. 

He gave you a strained smile and adjusted his grip. “I am currently more in control of my limbs than you are.”

Your gaze sharpened slightly, all that frightening perceptiveness of yours turning on him. You looked at him like you were lining up the truth beneath the words, before you let him continue. 

Frankly, he needed the task. He needed to put his hands to something useful before his brain had a chance to sit still long enough to fully understand what those cots had contained, what those zipped bags meant, what it said about all of you, that he and you were the only ones left standing.

You must have seen some version of that, because you only nodded once and stepped aside. He was grateful. 

He carried them through the ship one by one, down the metal corridors and into the narrow airlock chamber, the bag cradled carefully. He held each body with one arm beneath the shoulders and the other beneath the knees, the way people carried sleeping children in films or brides over thresholds. A terrible list of comparisons his mind had offered, and he had hated all of them.

Now both bodies lay side by side in the small metal corridor of the airlock, parallel to one another, the white bags bright against the steel floor.

Ryland stood just outside the threshold and tried very hard not to think the word laid out.

He swallowed and shifted the bundles in his hands.

Papers and a  few printed documents, some photos. Whatever he had been able to gather that seemed like it belonged to them, or to the life they had before. A photo with bent corners. A page of notes in handwriting that was foreign to him. He did not know if any of it was appropriate. He didn’t know if there was an appropriate.

He only knew it felt wrong to send them out with nothing. 

He noticed you before he looked at you, mostly because his body seemed newly and annoyingly tuned to your presence. The small shift in the air as you stepped up beside him. The brush of your sleeve near his arm, the heat of you there. He had become aware of these things in the last few hours with a sensitivity he did not have an explanation for, which was inconvenient, because explanations were kind of his favourite thing.

When he did glance at you, you were staring at the bodies.

Your expression was unreadable. Your face had gone very still, your mouth set softly but firmly, your arms loose. The harsh ship-light caught on the planes of your face and made your exhaustion more obvious: the slight darkness under your eyes, the pallor that had not entirely left your skin. You looked steadier on your feet than before, but not untouched. 

No one could be untouched by this. Not unless they had been made in a factory, probably by the robot arm.

God, he still hated that thing. 

He forced his attention back, allowing the moment to wash over him. It could so easily have been the two of you zipped into bags with your names reduced to labels and some future stranger trying to decide whether or not to say a few words before ejecting you into deep space.

It wasn’t just the image of his own death, but yours beside it. He didn’t know why it landed there so sharply. He barely knew you. Technically, he knew almost nobody right now. And yet his mind kept catching on you as though it recognised something his memory refused to hand over. 

He was grateful, though.

Grateful that there was one other person here who had survived. Grateful that when he’d heard the coughing from below and rushed down that ladder, it had led to you and not to another room full of silence. Grateful that the ship was not entirely empty of responsive eyes, someone else to witness all of this with him. Grateful, too, in a way that it was you standing beside him now. 

He couldn’t explain that part, so he didn’t try.

He cleared his throat, but his voice caught.

Excellent start.

He decided to focus on the photographs.  

Commander Yao Li-Jie stared back at him from a glossy square of paper, alive and mid-laugh, eyes narrowed with amusement while pulling an objectively ridiculous face at the camera. In another, he stood in uniform with the posture of someone used to responsibility. In another, he was holding up some sort of fish with triumph.

He placed the first photograph carefully over the body bag, then hesitated before unzipping the front slowly, adjusting it so it rested in his folded hands instead.

There. That’s better.

“Commander Yao,” he began, then immediately grimaced. Too formal? Not formal enough? Was there a correct amount of formal for being eleven-point-something light-years from Earth while addressing a dead astronaut in a corridor?

No time to workshop it now.

“I—uh.” He cleared his throat again. “We must have known you. I mean—”

His voice wavered and he hated it.

“I just... I don’t remember.”

He looked down at another photo, at the scrunched face and the unmistakable sense of humour captured in it.

“You make a funny face in… literally every picture,” he said softly. 

A wet laugh escaped him as he rubbed quickly at his nose with the back of his wrist. 

“You must’ve been very smart. And strong. And brave.” His eyes burned. 

Way braver than he’s being right now.

He placed another photo beside the first and sat back on his heels, blinking hard at the floor until the sting eased enough to continue. Across from him, you had not moved.

When he risked a glance upward, you were watching him with that same composure you seemed to wear like armour. Your face was calm, but not cold. Your shoulders straight, chin slightly lowered toward the bodies. Respectful.

How were you doing that?

Compartmentalising, it was the only explanation. You were better at it than him. Whatever your job had been, whatever parts of it he was beginning to remember in flashes, it had clearly required the ability to function while terrible things stood directly in front of you. He did not possess this ability. 

Different skill sets.

He turned to the second body. Ilyukhina’s photos were a mess. Several people crowded into frame with her in nearly every one, arms slung around shoulders, someone laughing hard enough to blur, another person half cut off at the edge. In one, she stood in front of a massive red wall with a grin that looked guilty.

Is that the Kremlin?

He looked closer.

Oh my god.

He held the picture up toward the body as if she might clarify. He laughed through the thickness in his throat and carefully set the photo into her hands.

“Ilyukhina,” he said, voice softer now. “You seem to have had a lot of friends.”

He glanced through the remaining stack, more proof of somebody whose orbit had touched a lot of people.

“This picture—of what looks like you sneaking into the Kremlin—is legendary, by the way.”

His smile faltered almost immediately.

“I wish you were still here.”

He pressed his lips together. His fingers were trembling now, slight but visible. He tucked them against his palm.

“I wish I were doing a better job,” he admitted.

That one was harder to say. Because it wasn’t just about this moment. It was about the ship, the dead, the memory gaps, the impossible distance from home. The idea that he should have more answers, not just for himself, but for the woman who stood a few feet behind him. 

He drew in a shaky breath.

“You were both very loved,” he said, looking between them. “That’s obvious. You deserve much more than... this.”

His voice thinned on the last word. He looked at the bodies, at the cheap little photos resting in still hands, at the walls standing in for sky and church and earth and every proper place the dead should be mourned.

“We’ll do our best,” he said.

The we made him turn instinctively toward you, and you met his eyes at once. Still steady, but there was something gentler there beneath the control. Your mouth lifted at one corner in the smallest smile, and then you gave him a single nod.

He looked away too quickly, embarrassed by how much that tiny gesture helped.

“To make sure that you don’t—” He faltered. “You know.”

Die for nothing. 

He sniffed as he tried again.

“That you didn’t—” He nodded to himself. 

He couldn’t say it. 

“We’ll—we’ll do our best.”

Silence returned when he finished. He pushed himself upright, wiping both palms down the front of his suit. The movement did nothing to steady him, his breathing had gone shallow, his thoughts racing too fast to catch. 

He was in space. He had no memory. He was light-years from home, standing in an airlock trying to honour two dead crewmates with words that felt painfully inadequate. He couldn’t—

“Hey, hey—” 

A hand came to rest on his shoulder, warm through the fabric.

“You’re alright.”

Yeah, right. He was a complete mess.

He shook his head, overwhelmed enough that speech arrived in pieces.

“Do you—uh...” He swallowed hard. “Do you want to I mean, if you wanted to say something, you can. Obviously. You don’t have to.”

You stepped a little closer and shook your head.

“You said it all,” you told him softly. “That was really nice, Grace.”

He wiped quickly at his eyes as your voice reached him. Thank God you were here. At least one of you seemed steadier than the other.

Before he could think what to do next, you drew him into a hug. He returned it instantly, almost desperately, arms folding around you with relieved certainty. Your body was solid and warm against his; the panic loosened its grip on his neck. There was someone else here, someone alive. Someone was kind enough to hold him together when he was coming apart.

“I’m not—I didn’t know what to say—”

You shushed him softly. 

“You said plenty.”

He looked back up. You gave another small nod, firmer this time.

“You said everything right.”

What even was “right” at this point? 

His throat tightened all over again for entirely new reasons. 

“Alright,” he said, because anything more articulate was beyond him.

You angled your head toward the opposite side of the chamber, the control panel waiting there with its levers and seals and consequences. Wordlessly, you seemed to read his hesitation. You did not falter as you led him away.

The lights glowed amber against the steel wall. He reached for the release lever, forcing his breathing to steady. This was mechanical. A sequence. He could do sequences. He wrapped his hand around the handle, and it shook immediately.

Oh, come on.

He tightened his grip, which only made the tremor more obvious. His body had chosen an excellent moment to betray him. Before he could try and fail to hide it, your hand lifted and you placed it gently over his.

The contact was light enough that he could have moved away if he wanted to. Warm palm over cold knuckles. Your fingers settle carefully against the back of his hand, only asking.

“Let me.”

He swallowed. You gave the smallest incline of your head and, with your hand still over his, eased his fingers loose from the handle. He stepped back. Part of him was relieved instantly, the other almost wished he hadn’t surrendered it, because now he had to watch you do it instead.

You did not hesitate.

You stood facing the mechanism, profile lit by lights. Calm had settled over you again. If there was grief in you, it had been placed somewhere internal and orderly, boxed for later examination.

He remembered little, small fragments that were of little use. He noticed the way you observed before you spoke, the way your composure was not emptiness but discipline, your profession attached to those instincts hovered just out of reach, close enough to feel, not yet close enough to name aloud. He hadn’t mentioned any of it. There had been no room between survival, panic, and funerals.

But memory was moving now.

Your hand tightened on the lever. His gaze drifted from your face to your wrist to the line of concentration between your brows. And beneath all of that, another word rolled through his mind again. 

Astrophage.

It struck something loose. A lab full of light. Glass. Whiteboards. Heat trapped in the air by too many machines. His own voice talking too fast. 

Your voice cutting through it for the very first time.

The lever dropped, and the memory began to open. 

This was, quite literally, one of the worst afternoons in his life. 

He sat on the floor with his back against the curved steel wall, knees bent, elbows hanging over them, staring at absolutely nothing. He’d been in the facility for nearly twenty hours, perhaps more. Time had dissolved somewhere around hour twelve.

One minute he’d been a middle-school science teacher with a sensible shirt and a lunchbox in his passenger seat, and the next he’d been intercepted by a severe European woman who had all but bundled him into the back of an SUV and informed him that an article he’d written years ago—an article most of academia had mocked with enthusiasm—might contain a grain of truth.

Life that could survive on the surface of the sun. Life that therefore might not require water.

A chance to prove everyone wrong. 

He’d imagined the look on old colleagues’ faces when they realised the weird molecular biology guy they’d laughed out of faculty lounges had been right all along. He’d mentally drafted interviews and several deeply elegant “I told you so” speeches. 

Then he’d dissected the little monsters and discovered they were, in fact, almost entirely made of water.

No victory speeches for him after all. Just a highly classified reminder that nature did not care about his ego.

He rubbed both hands down his face and sighed into his palms. He let his head thunk gently against the wall behind him.

It shouldn’t have mattered this much. Science was being wrong until you were less wrong than before. That was the whole game, discovery over personal feelings.

Unfortunately, he was also a person. Which meant it stung.

He had let himself hope. Worse, he had let himself get smug in advance. That was always how the universe got you.  He was still busy hosting this deeply productive pity party when footsteps echoed through the tunnel.

There were two sets, one brisk, the other lighter, lacking the clipped authority of the first. He lowered his hands and turned his head.

The first figure entering the curved corridor was instantly recognisable. Stratt, her dark jumper hung from her shoulders, clean lines matching the severity of everything else about her. She looked remarkably composed after the last twenty hours of scientific discovery and no sleep. 

The second figure beside her was less familiar. He had seen you briefly before, through the observation room glass opposite the containment chamber. A silhouette leaning near Stratt. At the time, however, his attention had been split between dissecting extraterrestrial microbes and not suffocating in argon gas. So, frankly, details had suffered.

You stood beside Stratt, close enough to suggest trust rather than hierarchy. Not hovering behind her like everyone else seemed to. You were beside her. 

Interesting. 

You were dressed in clothes that looked expensive but understated. Your coat was well-tailored to your body, and shoes practical for movement. You held yourself with confidence, and there was intelligence in your face, but not hidden behind steel. And as your eyes landed on him, slumped against the tunnel wall, the faintest smile touched your mouth; something close to reassurance.

It was, under the circumstances, alarmingly effective.

Stratt stopped in front of him.

“Alright?” Stratt asked.

Not exactly. 

He pushed himself upright a little, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He became abruptly aware that he probably looked deranged. Rumpled cardigan, bloodshot eyes, twenty-hour stubble.

“Sorry if I, uh...” He gestured vaguely toward the lab behind him. “Sorry if I… overreacted in there.”

He sighed. Maybe throwing the bin was a step too far. 

“Just realised I was wrong about the only… original idea I’ve ever had.”

Stratt did not comfort him, she stepped over his emotional state routinely.

“What else did you learn?” 

Right. Straight to work then.

He cleared his throat and straightened properly. However bruised his ego was, science still worked.

“They give off infrared light when they move,” he said, glancing between the two of you. “Like, a lot. I don’t know where they’re storing that kind of energy.”

Stratt nodded once. “Continue.”

“But the wavelength is exact,” he said, now warming to the explanation despite himself. “It matches the Petrova frequency exactly.”

“The light is how they move?”

“Yeah.” He pointed back toward the chamber. “They absorb energy from the sun, then expel it for propulsion.”

You were both looking at him, one of you with measured focus, the other with open concentration that made him suddenly aware of every word coming out of his mouth.

He panicked.

“They—uh—they toot to scoot, basically.”

God. Why had he said that?

He closed his eyes, preparing to fold himself into the floor. But then laughter echoed around him. 

His eyes snapped open. You had turned slightly away, one hand lifting toward your mouth as if to catch the sound too late. Your shoulders moved with the tail-end of it, and when you looked back at him, there was apology in your expression, but the smile remained.

It was bright; he couldn’t help but smile back.

Stratt, immune to humour, continued.

“Why did it go to Venus?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I wish I did, but I don’t know.”

He hated not having more for the pair. 

“We can tell you.”

Your voice was different from what he expected. It was warmer than your partners. He looked at you immediately. 

“We can?” he repeated.

How could you know why it had gone to Venus?

Stratt answered before you did.

“We have three hundred and forty-seven other biologists in twenty-one countries mobilising as we speak.”

Three hundred and forty—

He looked to you for clarification; you seemed like the more reasonable one of the pair. You only gave a small shrug, one side of your mouth lifting.

“Thank you for all your help,” Stratt said. Which, from her, sounded almost emotional. Then she was walking back down the tunnel, one hand lifting a radio to her mouth as she spoke in clipped instructions before she had fully left earshot. 

And then there were two.

The sudden absence of Stratt’s presence changed the atmosphere of the space immediately. He was still sitting on the floor where you had found him, one knee bent up and the other stretched out slightly in front of him. It occurred to him that he should probably stand. 

Socially, that seemed like the thing to do. But after the last twenty hours, his body had unionised. The adrenaline of discovery and disappointment was wearing off. So he stayed where he was.

“Thank you, Dr Grace. Again.” Your voice carried easily in the tunnel.“You really have been a big help.”

He let out a short scoff before he could stop himself.

“Really?”

It came out more bitter than he intended, but you only nodded, entirely unoffended.

“Oh, absolutely.” You stepped a little closer, folding your arms loosely as you spoke. “You helped us understand the biological makeup of Astrophage. That has pushed us forward massively.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him as if you already knew exactly which parts of him were bruised and where to apply pressure.

“You were the first one to do that, you know.”

“Yeah,” he said, picking at an invisible mark on his jeans. “But that’s only because I’m expendable.”

“That’s not quite true—”

“It kind of is.” He looked up at you, unable to stop the defensive humour creeping back in. “You just didn’t want to put some world-renowned scientist in a room full of argon and expose them to an extraterrestrial anomaly.”

He gave a small shrug.

“Much easier to gas the disgraced middle-school teacher.”

Better to say it first, before anyone else could.

You looked at him before lowering yourself, crouching down so your eyes were at the same level. The expensive coat folded neatly around you, clearly not designed for industrial flooring. It was such a human gesture that it caught him off guard. Most people spoke down to someone on the ground; you simply came down to meet him there.

“But you still did it,” you tell him honestly,  “When we told you what the lab was filled with, you carried on.”

Your eyes held his steadily. Intelligent eyes. 

“You showed remarkable resilience, Dr Grace.”

Heat rose up the back of his neck so fast he had to glance away.

“Yeah… I guess.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw and sighed. “But that still doesn’t negate the fact that I’m the laughing stock of scientific academia.”

The words were meant more for the floor than for you, but you heard them anyway. Your brow furrowed.

“I don’t think so.” You continued before he could deflect it. “I think it is rather brave to put yourself out there like that.”

He gave a disbelieving chuckle.

“No, seriously. I do.”

There was no smile this time, no teasing edge to soften the words; you meant them. He nodded once, looking off to the side as if the wall had suddenly become fascinating.

You were not having it.

“Hey.”

The word pulled his attention back immediately, you waited until he met your eyes.

“I have been called crazy many times throughout my career,” you said. “Massively. There have been multiple occasions where my opinion has been brushed aside as some insane deduction.”

Ryland scoffed.

“Yeah, but you didn’t call the leading scholar in your field a staggering waste of carbon at the UNESCO conference in Denmark, did you?”

God. Denmark.

Not his proudest moment, he can admit that. 

“No, I did not.” You paused just long enough to let him suffer, mouth curving into a playful grin. “But I did call the Secretary of State a spineless opportunist during a private UN Security Council meeting.”

He barked out a laugh so genuine it echoed down the tunnel.

“No way.”

You gave one elegant shoulder a shrug.

“He was being one,” you giggled, “I am paid to tell the truth, you know.”

Okay, he definitely liked you now. 

Whatever vague category he had initially placed you in—government operative, expensive person with access badges—had to be revised immediately.

You had nerve. And apparently beneath that calm smile was the sort of person who could insult heads of state to their face and sleep perfectly well afterwards. Dangerous yet deeply interesting. You were probably one of the most senior individuals he had ever met. He realised he was grinning at you and made no move to stop.

“And what do you do for work?”

You sat back slightly on your heels, looking absurdly composed.

“I’m a Senior Consultant in Criminal Behaviour and Cognitive Analysis.”

You said it simply, but with a flicker of pride that brightened your whole face.

Good lord.

“That’s...” He blinked. “That’s a lot of words.”

You laughed again.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” you admitted. “But I’m really just a profiler.”

He nodded as if that clarified everything, though in truth it raised several more questions.

A profiler certainly explained the eyes. 

“So what are you doing here?” he asked, trying for casual.

“I’m not at liberty to say,” you smiled apologetically. “Sorry.”

He lifted both hands in surrender. “No, no, I should’ve guessed.”

Right. Classified mystery woman with government clearance probably didn’t spend her days discussing sensitive operations with sleep-deprived biology teachers in tunnels. 

He was about to say something else, something witty, hopefully, to keep the conversation going. But your head turned sharply to the left. A voice echoed faintly from further down the corridor. A name.

“Coming!”

Your name. 

It suited you. 

You rose to your feet. He, determined not to appear less graceful, pushed himself up as well and nearly lost his balance in the process. You pretended not to notice as you held out your hand. 

“A pleasure to properly meet you, Dr Grace.”

He took it with perhaps more enthusiasm than the situation required.

Your grip was warm and firm.

“Likewise,” he said quickly. “Very much likewise.”

“I wish you all the best in the future. I hope our paths may cross again.” You smiled.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Me too.”

Wait.

He looked at you.

If?

His mind scrambled to keep up. “Does this mean I’m off the hook?”

Something mischievous flashed across your face. The first real warning sign, in hindsight. You glanced toward the tunnel exit where Stratt had disappeared, then leaned in just slightly.

“Take it up with Stratt,” you murmured as you stepped back, already turning away. “But I’d make it fast if I were you.”

You walked down the corridor after her, coat swaying, footsteps fading. He stood there, hand still half-raised from the handshake, staring at the space you had left behind.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

He should not go after you.

This was insane. He had papers to mark. A classroom plant that was not going to be watered by a bunch of teenagers. A whiteboard still covered in badly drawn cell diagrams. He had children who expected him tomorrow morning.

Mia still needed to pass the grade. She had potential, but if she spent one more lesson trying to light pencils on fire with the Bunsen burner, that potential might be mostly theoretical. Theo needed him, too. He pretended not to care about anything while quietly scoring highest on every test and looking horrified whenever he was praised for it.

There were others. Kids who looked to him for answers, even when he only had approximate ones. He had a life already, one that was useful and important. 

But the corridor felt too still as you disappeared. 

If this had anything to do with the dimming of the sun, with those strange little dots, with the thing called astrophage rolling around his mind, then maybe there would not be a normal classroom in the future. Maybe there would not be graduations and term reports and smug little children pretending they hadn’t revised. Maybe all the ordinary things he loved were balanced on something much larger than one man’s timetable.

And if there was even a sliver of a chance that his brain could help with that?

Maybe this was where he was needed.

His legs made the decision before the rest of him did. He lurched forward, shoes catching on the floor as he broke into a jog, then a run.

“Hey!” he shouted, nearly clipping his shoulder on the entrance. “Wait!”

The voices ahead kept moving. Sharp commands in accented tones as he ran faster.

“Hey!”

He burst out into the larger loading bay where the convoy waited, black vehicles idled in neat formation. Men and women in practical dark clothing moved, carrying cases, speaking into earpieces.

Stratt did not turn around. You, however, looked over your shoulder. A quick brightness in your face when you saw him coming, your eyes sharpened with satisfaction, as though a prediction had just paid off.

Oh no.

Had this been a trap?

A very flattering trap?

“Are—” he panted, “are you just taking all this stuff?”

Stratt stopped walking at last.

“At the school,” she said, still facing away from him, “you said there were thousands of people more qualified than you.”

You had stopped beside her now, turning fully to face him. 

“I was being modest,” he said, glancing between the two of you.

“I do not need modest,” she said, stepping toward him. “I need people who think they are right when everyone else thinks they are wrong. I need people who piss other people off.”

“That’s me!” 

It was not even a lie. He had annoyed school boards, district admins, parents, internet strangers, and entire rooms of professional academics. If history were any indicator, irritating people in pursuit of the truth might actually be his most developed skill.

Something in your mouth twitched, seemingly happy with his insistence. Stratt stopped directly in front of him now.

“Do you want to be on the project?”

The humour vanished from the air. The loading bay seemed to narrow around the question. 

This was real.

“If you... if you think I can help—”

“Just answer the question,” you said from somewhere to the side, giving him that last piece of confidence he needed as he looked at you. 

You were watching him steadily, no manipulation that he could see.  It did something dangerous to his chest as he drew in a breath. 

“I want to help.”

Stratt only nodded once.

“Then I will leave you three dots.”

“Just three?”

“Plus the one you killed.”

He considered this.

“I would take the three,” you urged with a small chuckle behind your words. 

“Okay,” he said quickly, dragging his eyes elsewhere with great professionalism. “Yes. I’ll take the dots.”

“Good.”

Stratt stepped back.

“Get to work, Doctor Grace. The world is counting on you.”

She turned, already issuing orders to someone else. Within seconds, she was halfway gone, which left you and him once again. 

He stood there with his heartbeat still elevated, deeply satisfied, deeply terrified, and increasingly aware that he had just committed himself to solving a planetary crisis. You glanced toward Stratt’s retreating figure, then back at him.

Apparently deciding you had a few seconds to spare, you crossed the distance between you with quick steps. There was energy in the way you moved now, some triumph barely contained beneath your composure. 

“Welcome aboard, Dr Grace,” you said. “I look forward to seeing what you find.”

You were so different to your colleague. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, me too.”

You seemed to notice the hesitancy in his answer. You stepped a fraction closer, enough that the noise of the bay dropped away around the edges. When you spoke again, your voice was quieter. Meant only for him.

“Do us proud,” you said. “You’ve got this.”

Something in his face must have changed, because you held his eyes, as if making sure the message landed where you intended it to.

It did, and no one had looked at him like this for a long time. It was the first time he didn’t feel like the backup option, the man who’d taken a strange turn somewhere and ended up teaching children because bigger things hadn’t worked out. He felt like he was not just capable, he was chosen by two of the most intimidating women he had met in his lifetime. He felt like he was an important part in this. 

You stepped back before he could think of anything worth saying.

You gave him a small wave as you turned, hurrying toward the waiting convoy where Stratt stood by an open car door. He raised a hand back a second too late and with considerably less grace.

Smooth.

You slid into the vehicle, the door sliding shut as the car began to pull away. He stood alone in the widening quiet.

He had a job to do now.

It was urgent, yes, but there was something more to it. A part of him that was tucked somewhere more private. It had been a while since someone looked at him like that. And, with a suddenness that embarrassed him on principle, he hoped he would be seeing you again.

“Grace?”

The sound reached him as though from a distance.

“Grace?”

He blinked hard. The loading bay, the convoy, all of it dissolved at once, replaced by the cold hush of the airlock.

You stood in front of him now, not in memory but here, your brows drawn together with concern. One hand still hovered half-raised near his arm as though you had been debating whether to touch him again. He stared for a second too long.

“Huh?” he said intelligently.

He cleared his throat. The room swam back into proper focus. The bodies were gone and the hatch was sealed. His chest still felt too tight.

“Did—uh—did you say something?”

Your gaze moved over him quickly, clinical and gentle, checking his face, his breathing, the way he was holding himself. It was unnervingly efficient.

“I asked if you were alright.”

Right. Reasonable question, difficult answer.

He opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again.

“Yeah. No. I’m fine, it’s just—”

The memory. 

He nodded to himself rapidly, as if agreement from his own head might help.

“I’m gonna—yeah. I’m gonna go.”

Before you could stop him, or worse, ask another kind question, he stepped past you and out into the corridor. His pace was brisk at first, then faster. Not quite fleeing, but deeply adjacent to fleeing.

The ship’s metal passageways stretched ahead in clean, indifferent lines. He needed to think.

Needed to figure out how to talk to you about any of this. How to explain that pieces of you were returning to him in flashes while whole sections of mission-critical memory remained missing.

It would have to happen later, when he was not on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Another nervous breakdown.  He would wait. See if more surfaced. See if the picture sharpened before he handed you half-formed fragments and hopeful nonsense.

This was ridiculous.

Ryland groaned once more as he reached awkwardly behind his own head. The scissors in his hand felt unnatural. They were standard enough kitchen shears repurposed for personal grooming. Every time he opened and closed the blades, the metal sounded threatening. He squinted at the mirror bolted into the wall in front of him.

There were only a handful of mirrors on the ship, as he recently discovered, and every single one of them was firmly fixed in place against the walls. There was no lifting one down, or angling it behind him, and he couldn’t do that clever barbershop trick with a second reflection. Just one flat rectangle mounted at eye level, showing him the front of his own increasingly suspicious face.

It still looked terrible. 

The front, he could manage, more or less. He had hacked the overgrown fringe back from his eyes with moderate success. The sides were shorter now, if a little uneven. But the back—god, the back was its own hellscape. 

Long strands still brushed the nape of his neck, curling out in all directions. Combined with the shorter front, the effect was a sort of failed 80s rock singer with the worst mullet of the decade.

He angled his head left, then right, pushed his glasses further up his nose, twisted again until something in his neck clicked in protest.

“Oh, come on,” he muttered to his own reflection.

The reflection offered no solutions.

He did technically have another option: the robot arm. He glanced toward the door as if it might hear him thinking about it. 

He still doesn’t trust the thing. 

The arm had precision. It would probably give him an immaculate fade in under six minutes. It would also involve allowing his greatest enemy to approach his throat with sharpened steel.

No. No way. 

He preferred his barbers less metallic. 

He reached back again, grabbed a chunk of hair between two fingers, and pulled it taut away from his head. The scissors rose in his other hand, blades parting slowly as he lined them up with the hostage strands.

One decisive cut, maybe two. If he were careful, he might come away merely ugly instead of injured.

He drew the blades closer until he heard movement from the far side of the room. 

He jolted so violently that he nearly stabbed himself in the ear. He spun in the chair, hand flying down into his lap, scissors hidden there like he’d been caught in the act.

You stood in the doorway, one shoulder leaned lightly against the frame, expression so amused that it suggested you had already taken in the entire scene before he’d even turned around.

You had changed. Gone was the clinical ship-issued suit. In its place were a pair of navy tracksuit bottoms and a plain white top, soft and fitted the way expensive basics tended to be. Simple at first glance, but not cheap. The fabric sat properly, the seams clean. He knew that now, apparently. Tiny details had started returning to him in strange categories.

Very useful, brain.

You looked brighter than earlier, less drawn around the eyes, some colour restored to your face. Human again, rather than newly-awakened victim.

That was good. He had worried.

He realised this only when the sight of you looking rested made something in him unclench. You glanced meaningfully at the hand hidden in his lap.

“Do you want some help?”

He exhaled through his nose and dropped the pretence, lifting the scissors into view with all the dignity of a man surrendering evidence.

“How long were you standing there?”

A small smile touched your mouth. “Long enough to see you struggling.”

“I don’t know if I’d exactly call it struggling—”

“I was going to intervene if those scissors got any closer.”

You pushed off the doorway and crossed toward him. You stopped beside the chair.

“I can do it,” you said. “I mean—if you want. I can.”

The offer was easy to refuse if he needed to preserve what little pride remained. Even if you were the worst hairdresser in the universe—which felt statistically unlikely given how unfairly competent you seemed at everything else—you would still be better than him attempting blind surgery on his own skull.

It was a no-brainer. Also, if the result was terrible, you would be the one looking at it most often.

“Alright,” he lamented. “Yes. Please. Thank you.”

He held the scissors up toward you, and your fingers brushed his as you took them. It was a brief contact, but his pulse behaved as though something much more significant had occurred.

Embarrassing.

You moved behind him, and he turned back toward the mirror. Now he could see you there in the reflection.

You stood close enough that part of your frame filled the glass behind his shoulders, your concentration focused on his head as you tested the scissors once, then gathered a section of hair. There was a small furrow between your brows when you concentrated. 

You looked far better up close. 

You had taken a nap after the burial—funeral? Airlock memorial?  You had told him you were going to rest, that he needn’t worry. He had nodded and said of course, absolutely, no worrying here. Then spent the next twenty minutes wondering if you were actually sleeping or having a breakdown in one of the cabins.

He had believed you in the end, mostly because he wanted to.

He’d managed a few hours himself, collapsing into one of the narrow bunks with every intention of lying down for a minute, then waking much later with hair in his face, neck damp with sleep.

He needed to sort that out immediately. 

The nap had brought more than rest; more memories had surfaced in broken reels. Astrophage. Carl hovering at his side through endless days in the lab. The three dots, then losing them, the panic, then finding them. Then the wild turn of discovering how to breed the damn things after all.

He could feel the shape of triumph there, before the memory cut cleanly away into static. Everything beyond it remained fogged.

But you were sharp. Not quite complete, but clear in ways the others were not. He didn’t understand why the fragments of you held their edges while entire scientific breakthroughs dissolved around them. He suspected the answer was emotional and therefore deeply inconvenient. Behind him, you lifted another section of hair.

“Try not to move,” you said.

He met your gaze in the mirror.

“No promises.”

That earned him the smallest trace of amusement.

He held his breath as you made the first cut. The scissors moved with a metallic snip near his ear, then again at the nape of his neck. Long strands loosened and drifted down over his shoulders, sliding against the fabric of his t-shirt before collecting in his lap and on the floor around the chair. You worked more gently than he expected, one hand steadying his head while the other trimmed away the worst of the overgrowth.

When you needed a better angle, your fingers touched lightly beneath his jaw and tipped his chin downward.

There.

It had been a long time since anyone had touched him, quite literally longer than he could remember, and even before that, nothing stood out. You hand on his jaw and your fingers in his hair, your body behind him, while you were filled with concentration. 

It felt nice. 

Weirdly enough, it was also familiar. He chalked it down to the feeling he had back home. The strange forced intimacy of sitting in a chair while someone stood behind you, deciding the fate of your appearance. The pressure to make polite conversation with a person currently holding sharp objects near your skull. It was almost comforting.

Like being back on Earth.

He found himself chasing that feeling.

“So, uh...” he began. “How’s it looking?”

You snipped once more before answering.

“Well, I’m not Sassoon-trained,” you said dryly, “but I don’t think I can make it worse.”

“That’s promising.”

He huffed a laugh. More hair fell. You stepped back slightly, assessing your work in the mirror with narrowed eyes, then tilted your head.

“Do you have clippers?”

Clippers?

“Uh... surprisingly not on hand, no. But why—”

“It would be easier if we had some,” you said with a small sigh, already turning away from the back of the chair. He frowned, searching through the chaos of the last day. 

“I think the, uh... the robot arm had one when I woke up.”

You paused, slowly turning to look at him.

“Yeah,” you said. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that.”

He stared.

“You’ve met it too?”

“No,” You shook your head. “I saw you wrote about it in your notes.”

Ah. Yes, of course.

Wait.

“You went through my notes?”

A laugh escaped you, entirely too pleased with yourself.

“Yeah. Pretty impressive drawings you’ve got in there.”

Heat crawled instantly up his neck.

“Listen, I had only been awake a few hours and I didn’t—”

“My favourite was the angry eyebrows.”

He groaned aloud.

“Nope. We’re moving past this.”

“The caption was very honest.”

“Please stop talking.”

You were openly smiling now, and he realised with some alarm that making you laugh might become something he actively sought out. 

Dangerous development.

“Yeah, yeah, alright, I get it,” he lamented, gesturing dramatically from the chair. “If you want the clippers, you’re going to have to deal with it.”

You folded your arms.

“How?”

He glanced toward the corridor.

“I don’t know. Usually she just talks when she feels like it.”

You looked mildly offended on behalf of competent communication everywhere. You stepped away and raised your voice toward the ceiling.

“Uh… ship? Where might I find hair clippers?”

The mechanical female voice answered immediately from somewhere in the walls.

“Hair clippers are located in storage bay two, hygiene drawer C.”

You turned your head toward him slowly, the smugness on your face was unbearable.  You walked off toward the corridor without another word.

He huffed at the empty doorway.

Of course you got along with the darn thing.

This was how it began. First the robot sided with you. Next the ship would start laughing when he tripped over things. Before long he’d be outnumbered. It kind of reminded him of the classroom, in an odd way. 

He sat in the silence, brushing loose hair from his shoulders and pretending not to miss your presence. A few minutes later, your footsteps returned. You reappeared in the doorway holding a set of clippers triumphantly in one hand.

“Okay,” you said. “Can I?”

He nodded.

You crossed back to him and set a hand on his shoulder and swivelled the chair slightly so the light hit better. You clicked the clippers on, they buzzed to life in your hand. There was something deeply comforting about competence.

“You seem to know what you’re doing,” he said as you guided his head forward again.

Your fingers spread lightly at the back of his neck, causing goosebumps to rise across his shoulders. 

“Yeah,” you said, a small grin pulling at your mouth as you began working the clippers through the back of his hair. “It’s all coming back to me.”

“What, hairdressing?” 

“No,” you laughed under your breath. The clippers hummed along his scalp in neat passes. “I used to cut my friends’ hair back when I was a student.”

You what now?!

He swivelled so fast he wasn’t sure if you’d shaved a chunk out of his hair. 

“You remember stuff?”

“Only bits and pieces.” You pulled the clippers back. “I remember university.” 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” You swivelled him round without permission as you resumed trimming. “Seems like a long time ago. But at least it’s familiar.”

He watched you in the mirror as you worked. Not all memory returned as pain, apparently. 

Good. He liked that for you.

“Do you remember what you studied?” 

You hummed once, considering.

“I had an MA in Law,” you said. “Then I got my PhD in forensic psychology. With an offer from Cambridge.”

Jesus.

You said it casually, as though people collected postgraduate degrees and elite offers every day before breakfast. You were bright, frighteningly so. Which, in fairness, tracked with everything else about you.

“My PhD was in molecular biology,” he offered.

You smiled as you flicked away another line of hair.

“Yeah,” you said casually. “I know.”

He turned so fast the chair squeaked again.

“How do you know?”

Your hand caught his shoulder, guiding him back into place before he ruined the blend.

“Face forward.”

He grumbled but complied, eager to question you further. 

“You… remember me?”

“A little,” you told him. “I remember Stratt telling me we needed to find you.”

Huh.

He had been sought out; his pride latched on to the idea of being specifically requested. He would have been happier if this whole ordeal hadn’t ended in amnesia and space travel. 

“I remember you too.”

“Really?” You looked at him in the mirror, sudden interest brightening your face. You resumed your work.

“Yeah.” He swallowed. “I remember us in the tunnel. After I, uh... after I threw my tantrum in the lab.”

Your brows drew together as you searched your own mind.

“The tunnel?”

“Yeah. In the tunnel.”

Recognition moved across your features as you nodded slowly.

“Oh—oh, yeah!”

Whatever lived between you both before this place had not been imagined.

“It’s good to know I’m not with a total stranger up here,” he softened the sentiment with a dry chuckle. 

“Yeah,” you replied. “Me too.”

The clippers went silent.

“And at least we know what we have to do at least.”

Something in your tone made him look up. Your face had changed as you gave him a soft look in the mirror, then frowned slightly as if surprised he hadn’t followed the thought. He turned more carefully this time.

“You know why we’re here?”

You blinked.

“Uh... yeah. Don’t you?”

“It hasn’t come back to me.”

It hadn’t.

That was where the memory ended, cleanly and without permission. One moment he was back there in that loading bay with engines running, your hand in the air. The next, nothing. 

He pushed at it anyway, because apparently, he never learned when to stop bothering impossible things. He reached for more details, more context, some missing bridge between then and now. 

What happened after Stratt drove away? What did he discover first? How did astrophage become this ship, this mission, this distance from home? How did you fit into it all?

Nothing.

He had hoped the nap earlier might loosen something. People always said sleep helped memory, helped emotional regulation. So far it had delivered fragmented science breakthroughs, unresolved feelings, and a haircut emergency. 

Mixed results.

But now there was an opening.

You stood in front of him with answers in your head and that alone felt almost intoxicating. After waking into blankness, the possibility of explanation felt dangerously close to hope.

He needed some line drawn from the man he had been to the man sitting in this chair now. And beyond that, he wanted to do something. Learn something or fix something.

Two people had died on this ship. Others had clearly worked and sacrificed and crossed impossible distances to get here. Whatever this mission was, it had cost too much already.

It was time to do his deceased crewmates proud.

He realised he was staring at you.

“Okay,” you said slowly, seemly bracing yourself. “This is going to be a long story.”

You reached out automatically, fingertips brushing through the front of his newly cut hair, adjusting one stubborn strand back into place.

“Let’s go to the lab. Maybe that’ll make it easier to explain, okay?”

You stepped away and headed for the door. Ryland stayed seated for one stunned second longer before turning back to the mirror.

The difference was immediate, his reflection more familiar. He looked less like a man who had been dragged screaming out of a cryogenic hedge and more like himself. Or at least a version of himself he recognised.

He stood quickly and followed after you. At last, he was going to figure out why he was here.

The melancholy in your face lingered in his mind, but you had not shut down under it. You were carrying something difficult and still moving. Maybe he could help with that. He was the science guy, after all. Maybe between the two of you, you could untangle whatever this mission had done to your memories, to your lives, to the future waiting somewhere beyond this ship.

Maybe one day, somehow, you could even make it home.

a/n: and here we get a little bit more back story !! hope you enjoyed rylands POV, i find it surprisingly easier to write for him than the reader. this still feels like a filler chapter, but trust me something is hidden underneath the backstory (let me know your thoughts)

would love to hear from you and get your takes on what could be happening, and hopefully should have another part out by the end of next week if i get some time away from work !!

as always hope you enjoyed and please dont hesitate to ask to be added to the taglist <3

you both finally look at rocky. with his carapace tilted upwards, rocky has one of his hands outstretched, seemingly waiting for his “tip”.

“a tip! when humans provide good service they are usually given a reward!”

“i—where’d you learn about that??”

“from (name)!”

grace directed his confused look towards you now.

“… i did talk to him about being a barista one time,” you sheepishly smile.

“yes, (name) did! was very educational! made rocky wish to participate, too.” he tapped his “fingers” together as a reminder. “tip, please!”

“wow. you’re, uh, kinda putting me on the spot here. you know, tipping is usually done with cash and we don’t really have any—“

“is ok! rocky will accept any item as a tip.” his arm stretched out further, eagerly waiting.

out of excuses, grace turned to you. “help?”

you giggle. “i think rocky just wants a reward for helping us.”

looking around the room for something, your eyes catch onto the whiteboard that’s behind the desk you were working at and notice one of the magnets attached to the board. you grab it and hand it out to the eridian, your arm and his stretching out further so that it transfers through his ball.

“here you go: for a job well done.”

rocky let out a trill, something equivalent to a laugh that you both decided to not translate (it was nicer to hear the melody rather than the robotic voice go “ha ha ha”).

“(name) is rocky’s favorite human! grace is not. rocky will spit in grace’s food as revenge.”

“huh?!”

you burst out laughing at rocky’s words, but you’re practically keeling over in your seat because of grace’s reaction.

“i told him that we’d sometimes joke about spitting or sneezing in our customers orders if they made us upset.”

“he knows you were joking, right?!”

“he just learned about knock knock jokes, give him a few days. besides,” you manage to calm down enough, still grinning widely at grace, “eridians don’t leak; you’ll be fine.”

“i guess…”

grace fixes his glasses, seemingly having calmed down now that he knows he’s safe until—

“rocky will find a way to make spit.”

you laugh again while grace groans loudly.

grace pushes himself upright with a groan and reaches for a photo velcroed onto the panels among many others. the corners are worn soft from handling.

when he woke up on the ship, before he remembered the mission to save earth or even his own damn name, it had been his rope to reality:

the nose-burn smell of dry erase markers. standing shoulder to shoulder in fluorescent classroom lighting while thirty kids shouted over each other in the aftermath of a failed experiment. your laugh.

those had been the first memories he got back.

home.

rocky’s voice pokes a hole into his little daydream. “grace holding picture again.”

“yeah,” he swallows.

“human in picture important.”

his thumb brushes over your face. “very.”

the alien’s carapace clicks, not entirely unlike a tut. “human sleep long time. grace sadness increase.”

“wow. real subtle.”

“i learn tact.”

“nope,” grace chuckles despite himself, tucking the photo in his shirt pocket. the corner catches briefly against the fabric before slipping out of sight, right over his heart. “long ways to go, bud.”

the ship hums steadily around him as he limps down the corridor, the pain growing familiar. almost comforting. he winces all the way to the lab.

too many hours awake. too little food. too many hours bent over consoles, too many months in a body never meant to survive this long in deep space alone.

rocky chirps up suddenly.

“♪♫ ♩!”

“hmm?”

an excited trill. “new word for grace!”

“oh, good. terrifying.”

“want thing near,” the alien continues expectantly. “thing not near.” another thoughtful click, “pain because empty where thing should be.”

“grace has this for sleeping human.” rocky adds.

for a second, he can only stare back.

“yeah,” he swallows. “yeah, that’s the one.”

by the time he reaches the laptop, the ache in his leg barely registers. the cursor blinks back at him.

rocky nods his supposed head. “new word?”

“new word,” grace confirms.

his fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment before typing it into the growing shared dictionary between human and eridian.

Grace lifted his eyes from the microscope for a second, brows furrowing as he tried to determine whether the noise he’d heard was just a figment of his imagination. It seemed to fade for a moment, but just as he was about to shrug it off and go back to his samples, it sounded again — louder this time.

Grace pushed off from his chair quickly, scrambling around the room as he rushed toward the noise.

You’d told him you were going to repair some things on the ship, and for one dreadful moment, Grace thought perhaps the sound was you crying out for help. But the closer he got, the clearer the noise became, and the more confused he grew.

Grace couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It had caught him so off guard that he just froze at the entrance of the ship’s compartment.

Your eyes were closed as you moved, your body gliding across the floor in a combination of jumps and shuffling of feet.

You were dancing.

Dancing like you were at some random party or bar, not floating in outer space for all eternity. And then, to surprise him even more, you started to sing.

“You are the dancing queennnn, young and sweet, only seventeennnn,” you screamed, slightly out of pitch but still somehow holding the tune.

“You can dance, you can— oh shit!”

Your hand sprang to your chest, eyes wide as you stared at Grace. He had his hands raised as if to tell you he was no threat, and there was a comical look on his face.

You let out a breath of relief, hands moving to brace against your knees as you laughed.

“Fuck, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” Grace replied softly, his voice barely able to be heard over the song still blaring.

You stared at him, chest heaving, and Grace just stared back.

Then, because it seemed like the only right thing to do, your hand shot out, palm reaching toward Grace. His eyes widened at the gesture, gaze moving from your outstretched hand to your face. You just gave him a smile.

“Come on, I know you want to,” you said in a sing-song tone.

He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should accept the gesture or just go back to the lab and leave you to your fun. But you were right, he did want to join. So before he could think better of it, he raised his hand, allowing his palm to touch yours.

The smile that spread across your face could power a thousand suns. But Grace had only a second to admire it before you were tugging him into the dance.

He was a bit awkward at first, movements stiff from nerves or lack of practice. But as the song went on, he found himself relaxing.

You belted the lyrics out with all your heart, jumping and shimmying along with the music, oftentimes making faces or expressions that tugged a smile at the corner of Grace’s mouth.

At one point, you reached out to him again, holding his hands in yours as you shimmied.

“Come on, Grace, sing! I know you know the words.”

“I’m not sure I do,” he muttered.

He totally did.

You gave him a look that told him you didn’t believe him. But you were never going to force him to do anything, he knew that. So he stayed quiet for a second, allowing you to sing on your own as you continued to guide his movements.

And then, just as the chorus began, he opened his mouth and sang.

Grace wished he could have taken a picture of your face and hung it in the lab for when he was having a bad day. The shock didn’t last long, though, because you started singing along with him, your voices blending together as your bodies moved in sync.

You pulled him into a spin, both of you giggling like maniacs as you twirled to the music, the world around you blurring until the only thing you could see was each other.

You took a wrong step, fumbling slightly and causing Grace’s grip on you to tighten.

“I got you!” he screamed over the music.

“I know,” you said, a smile plastered on your face, and Grace couldn’t help but mirror the expression.

Your twirling slowed to a stop as the music faded out. The silence of the ship seemed overwhelming after the loudness of the music.

You and Grace stared at each other, hands still locked together as you panted.

And then, much to Grace’s surprise, you moved forward, hands letting go of his so you could pull him into a hug. He froze for a second, surprised by the gesture. But the hesitation didn’t last long, his arms moving to hold you closer in the warmth of the hug. 

You stood there locked in each other’s arms for a long time, your shared breathing the only sound that could be heard.

“Loud rhythmic human ritual is complete. Question."

Both you and Grace startled violently.

You pulled back just enough to look toward the doorway, Grace’s hands still resting on your waist while one of yours remained tangled in the front of his jumpsuit.

Rocky stood in the entrance of the compartment, mechanical arms clicking softly.

For a second there was complete silence.

Then you burst into laughter.

Grace followed a second later, his forehead dropping briefly against your shoulder as he laughed too.

“Sorry,” Grace called out between breaths. “Did we wake you up?”

“Negative,” Rocky replied. “I was observing.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands.

Rocky tilted himself slightly.

“Observation: both humans appear significantly less sad after rhythmic flailing and loud female warbling.”

Grace looked over at you then, really looked at you, your face flushed from dancing and laughter, eyes bright in a way he hadn’t seen in months.

And maybe Rocky was right.

Because wrapped in your warmth, with your hand still clutching his sleeve and laughter still echoing through the ship, Grace realized he did feel happier.