#simon lives

It was so obvious that something was wrong — the once twinkling sea of stars and Tau Ceti's solar system had been replaced with what Grace could only hope was pomegranate molasses. That was a stupid, impossible hope, but he was friends with a rock alien…

He wondered if he was dreaming; he even pinched himself like you were supposed to to check whether or not you were. All he got was a sharp pain in his arm and no change outside the window.

Was he hallucinating, maybe? He had hit his head pretty hard not long ago... but he felt fine, mostly. He didn't think he got enough brain damage to start seeing things that weren't actually there.

But this couldn't be real.

Could it?

(Yet, he'd seen so much since waking up on the Hail Mary. He'd experienced so many things he hadn't believed were possible, even back before his entire life and career had been shattered by his mouth and its lack of a filter and when he was so confident in his theories of life without water. How much of a stretch was this, really? There were so many planets and solar systems that scientists could only dream of seeing someday. Who knew what was really out there?)

Still, this seemed a little extreme.

"Mary," he said slowly. "Where are we?"

"Unknown. Recalibrating," she answered, in that same steady voice he'd grown accustomed to. Usually, it was calming. Now, not so much.

"What do you mean, unknown? How can you not know where we are?" Panic shot through him, but he forced himself to take a deep breath. He'd handled everything up to this point. He could handle this, too.

(But until now, he'd had Rocky by his side. Rocky, who was currently unresponsive and too still and maybe not even alive anymore. He couldn't afford to think like that, he knew that, he didn't need the pain and fear and anxiety and loneliness those thoughts brought him, but he couldn't help it. His friend, his best friend, might be dying and he couldn't stop it. He couldn't do anything but sit around and wait and stare at this unknown place they'd somehow arrived at while he was unconscious.)

(It was all his fault.)

Mary answered him with those same words, but he wasn't really listening. He ran his hands down his face, knocking his glasses even more askew. They nearly slipped off his ear, but he grabbed them and tugged them off before they could fall. He had multiple pairs — something he'd found out the last time he broke one. Thanks, Stratt — but that didn't mean he needed to break these. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to take a deep breath in, hold it, then back out. Again. Again. And again, until his heart didn't feel like it was going to explode out of his chest. Only then did he open his eyes and look outside the window.

No change. Still that foreboding mass of red instead of the planet he should be seeing.

He took another deep breath as the panic threatened to bubble up again. He needed to get it together. Otherwise, he and Rocky would never make it back home.

They had to go home.

(Even if Grace really had nothing to go back to.)

"Okay. Okay, fine. Keep trying to figure out where we are." Grace dragged his eyes away from the window. He needed to go check on Rocky. He doubted anything had changed, but—

He needed to check.

So, he went over to Rocky and sat next to him, continuing the silent vigil he'd promised when he first discovered his friend like this.

Rocky had saved his life. This was the least he could do in return.

~*~

"Where are we, question?"

Grace paused and looked up. It had been only a couple days since Rocky had woken up, and Grace hadn't told him yet that they were at an unknown planet. It was pure cowardice, he knew it — he didn't want to tell Rocky that they might not make it home because he couldn't figure out where home was. But somehow, Rocky knew they weren't at Tau Ceti anymore, and the truth couldn't be hidden any longer. Rocky wasn't stupid.

"I… I don't know." Grace sat back in his seat and sighed. "We're not at Adrian anymore. Nowhere near it, as far as I can tell. Mary can't figure out where we are, either."

Rocky was silent for a moment. "Grace not say that earlier."

Grace swallowed. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Why Grace not say, question?"

"I—" The excuse died on his lips. He didn't want to lie to Rocky. Not after everything they'd been through together. "I was afraid to."

(Funny, that he could dangle off the side of a space ship without hesitation, but he couldn't just tell the truth to his friend. He was such a coward.)

"Why—"

"Radio signal detected," Mary said, and Grace was ashamed of the rush of relief he felt at the interruption.

"What? Where?" He stood and hurried over to the monitors, watching Rocky follow in his passageway from the corner of his eye.

"Radio signal detected," she repeated, because of course she wouldn't elaborate.

Sure enough, though, one of the screens showed a radio signal coming from the surface of the planet below. But how could there be anything down there to even send a signal to begin with?

"Tune into it. Who's on the other end?" Grace couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement. If there was someone here, maybe they would know where here was. Their odds of getting back to Tau Ceti were going up.

There was a sharp burst of static from the speakers, and Grace winced slightly. It gradually quieted down, and he pressed the button to speak.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" He found himself holding his breath as he waited, listening to the static crackle softly. Nothing. His stomach dropped. "Please, can someone hear me?"

More static, then—

A soft groan. It was nearly inaudible, but Grace, as laser-focused as he was, heard it. Someone was on the other side.

Someone was on the other side.

But something was wrong.

"Are you okay?" It was probably a stupid question with an obvious answer, and he doubted he would get anything from asking it, since the person hadn't said anything before. Still, it couldn't hurt, right?

There was no response.

He blew out a breath. "Okay. Okay, we need to figure out what's going on down there. Mary, scan the surface of the planet and see what you can find."

"Grace think find new human, question?" Rocky asked.

Grace didn't look away from the screens. "I really hope so. Maybe they'll know where we are."

"Yes, good. Save new human. Go home." Rocky bobbed up and down. "Hurry hurry hurry."

"We have to wait to see what's on the planet, Rock. We can't do anything if we don't know what's going on down there."

"Mary slow. Need go faster."

Grace sighed. "I know she does." He couldn't blame Rocky for being impatient; he was too. They needed to get out of here as soon as possible, and right now, this was their only chance to possibly figure out where they were.

(Or maybe he just wanted another human being around. Rocky was great, but he wasn't human. It would never be quite the same.)

(Was that being ungrateful? He was so lucky to have someone here with him at all. He shouldn't be complaining. But the prospect of having another human here, even if only for a little while, was a relief.)

A couple minutes later, a blinking dot showed up on the screen.

"Object detected," Mary said, confirming it without prompting.

Grace frowned. "It doesn't look very big. What is it?"

"Maybe small ship," Rocky suggested. "Like Grace ship."

"I don't know… I don't think it is." Grace dragged his gaze away from the screen to look at Rocky. "But either way, something's definitely wrong."

"Then Grace Rocky get ship. Save other human."

Grace sighed and made his way over to the window, staring at the odd planet they'd found themselves at. "But how do we get there? It's not like we can land on it."

Rocky tapped his feet on his enclosure, drawing Grace's attention back to him. "Grace Rocky go fishing."

Grace paused. "That's… actually a good idea."

"Of course. Rocky always have good idea." For a rock, Rocky looked quite proud.

"Yeah, yeah. Sure you do, bud." But a slight smile formed on Grace's face.

It looked like they were going fishing again.

(He just hoped it went better this time.)

~*~

Grace stared at the man silently, absently chewing on the end of his pen. The guy had barely even twitched in the hours since he'd been brought in; Grace would think he was dead if not for the heart monitor's semi-steady beeping. He was barely even breathing.

Rocky rolled over in his hamster ball, checking on Grace for what felt like the millionth time. "New human not died. Why worry, question?"

Grace sighed, also for what was probably the millionth time. "He looks… rough." An understatement. Half of the guy's face was covered in sharp teeth. Teeth. Not regular human teeth, but sharp monster type of teeth. And the rest of his face was covered in boils of some kind. Not to mention his arm, which looked like it had been ripped off.

"But new human not died," Rocky repeated. "No need worry."

"Just because he's alive right now, doesn't mean something can't happen to him." Grace glanced at the monitors again.

"Grace paranoid. Nothing happen to new human. New human live now."

He sighed again and set down his pen. He really needed to stop chewing on it; if another pen exploded in his face, he would never live it down.

"Maybe I am being paranoid. But I think I have a pretty good reason to be. He lost a lot of blood." He adjusted his glasses, even though they weren't trying to fall yet. "We have to make sure he stays alive now that he's here."

"Grace still paranoid." But Rocky didn't argue it any further.

It was another couple hours before the man shifted more noticeably, and Grace's head snapped up. Grace had almost fallen asleep; he hadn't been sleeping well recently, with the whole ending up at an unknown planet thing, and it had been a while since he'd slept anyway. So, he was tired (though he'd been constantly telling Rocky he wasn't).

The man groaned softly and opened his eyes. He looked very confused as his eyes flicked around the room, which was understandable. Grace had no idea what happened to him, but this place was nothing like the submarine thing he'd been in, so it had to be weird.

Grace stood and came over, careful not to get close enough to loom over him. "Hey there. How are you feeling?"

The man immediately tensed and tried to sit up, but it was obvious that he was struggling. He had to be pretty weak right now.

Grace raised his hands to show that they were empty. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. You're safe."

The man stared at him, studying him in a way that made it painfully obvious how many times he'd done it before, then slowly settled back down. He still looked tense, but at least he wasn't struggling anymore. Good.

Grace gave him a small, slightly awkward smile. He was glad he'd had some time to get used to the guy's appearance; it was pretty creepy, but he didn't want to treat him any differently. That wouldn't help him relax. And, y'know. He didn't want to be a jerk. "My name's Grace. I found you in that submarine thing and brought you up here to get some medical care."

The man still said nothing.

Grace's smile grew a little more awkward. "So… how are you feeling? Any pain? You're on some pretty strong painkillers, so there shouldn't be any, but I can give you more if there is, I think." He said the last part quieter, but he was pretty sure the man heard him anyway.

"No," the man said. His voice was quiet and raspy. "I feel fine."

"Good. Great." Grace let out a soft sigh of relief. "I'm glad."

The man continued to stare at him. He felt like the guy was trying to see into his soul.

"So…" Grace tried. "What's your name? Because I need something to call you."

The man seemed to hesitate. Then, "Simon."

"Nice to officially meet you, Simon." Grace readjusted his glasses, noting how Simon tracked the movement. "Just a warning, there's someone else here. I'll try to keep him out so you can have some peace, but he doesn't know what personal space is—"

"Grace! Rocky hear talking." Right on cue, Rocky tumbled into the room.

Simon immediately jerked back with more speed than Grace would have expected and nearly fell off the bed.

Grace sighed. "Rocky, you can't just barge in here."

"This Rocky home too. Can go everywhere. Not need permission." Rocky said it matter-of-factly, like it wasn't up for debate. It never was, with him.

Grace bit back what he wanted to say — he didn't think Simon's first impression of his and Rocky's relationship needed to be an argument — and instead turned to Simon. "Sorry, I was going to introduce you more… slowly. Should've known that wouldn't happen, but can't change it now, I guess. Simon, this is Rocky. He won't hurt you. Rocky, this is Simon."

Simon didn't relax, just staring at Rocky in confusion and probably fear. Again, Grace wondered what happened to him, for him to have this reaction. He knew it was weird to meet an alien, yeah, but even he hadn't been quite this freaked out.

(He was going to ignore his scream first, think later reaction the first time he met Rocky.)

"See? New human fine. Rocky always right."

Grace sighed. Again. How many times had he done that now? A million and a half? At least it wasn't a Simon-related sigh this time. "I know, I know. But you're scaring him, so shoo."

"Grace can't kick Rocky out of home."

"I'm not kicking you out of your home," Grace said. "I'm telling you nicely to get out of this room."

"Not nice. Mean mean mean. Grace kick Rocky out like Rocky not Grace best friend."

"That is not what's happening—"

"Grace hate Rocky. Grace not want Rocky around. So Rocky leave. Sad sad sad." Rocky then rolled out in the most diva-like fashion that Grace had ever seen, which was surprising considering he was a rock. He shouldn't be able to walk like that.

Grace groaned. Rocky had to be the most dramatic rock that ever existed. Unless all Eridians were like that? It was possible, but this felt like a Rocky thing. Not that he'd ever find out.

Grace turned back to Simon. "Sorry about that. Look, I promise Rocky's harmless. He's just really… hyper sometimes."

Simon glanced up at him. He looked less nervous now, and he was laying on the bed again, which was good. Grace didn't want him freaking out and reopening the wounds Armando had stitched up. Whatever blood the guy had left in his body needed to stay there.

He let out a soft huff and rested his head back against the pillow, not responding. Grace didn't think he would. He didn't seem like much of a talker.

That was fine. As the resident yapper, Grace could talk enough for the both of them.

(He really, really hoped Simon wasn't so antisocial that he'd hate it.)

"Well, I'll leave you be. I'm sure you're exhausted. Healing takes a lot of energy, and uh… you've got a lot of healing to do." Grace waved. "I'll keep Rocky out. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Simon echoed softly, and Grace counted that as a win.

~*~

Simon was confused. Very, very confused. Last he remembered, he was in the iron lung, staring down that monstrous thing in the blood. He was in pain, and he was dying, and he knew he would never make it out. He knew he would never get to live. He hadn't wanted to die, but he'd been forced to accept that he would. He'd wished things could have gone differently — he'd wished he could be given another chance.

What he'd done was important. He knew that. But that didn't mean he wanted it to happen.

And now…

Now, he was in a strange, bright place with a man he didn't recognize and some creature that was definitely a monster of some kind, because even he knew that rocks weren't supposed to have legs and move. That man kept assuring him that the thing was harmless, but Simon wasn't sure he believed that. The… argument(?) the two had shared put his mind at ease a little, though. It was a bit amusing.

The man himself was odd, too. Almost everyone Simon had ever known had an ulterior motive of some kind. This guy, though… no matter how hard Simon looked, he couldn't see any of the usual signs of that. He was open, not even bothering to hide what he was feeling and thinking, and he looked so… friendly.

(It had to be a trick. It had to be. No one was nice without a reason; no one did kind things without expecting something in return. He must just be better at hiding it. He couldn't be trusted, no matter how his personality already made it easier to relax around him.)

And he introduced himself as Grace… what kind of name was that? Simon had never met anyone with that name, but he knew what grace meant — unearned and undeserved salvation, something only provided in death, according to his brothers and sisters at Eden. But he didn't want to die, so why would he be granted salvation like this? Didn't only those who accepted the Father's teachings get peace in death? He rejected their teachings. So how could he have gotten salvation?

It just wasn't possible for him to.

So, then, what was this? Could it be a hallucination from the blood? But he didn't know this man at all, and before, all he'd seen were visions of people he knew. And the kindness Grace was showing him was a far cry from the screams and hatred of those hallucinations.

That left him with one final explanation: he was alive, and this (admittedly cute) stranger had actually saved him from his death.

Yeah, right. As if that was possible.

But no matter what this really was… it didn't seem half bad. He could be content with this, he decided, for however long it lasted.

~*~

Grace yawned and stretched as he trudged out of the don't go crazy room, feeling his back pop. He'd decided to sleep in there last night, something he was beginning to regret now. The hard metal platform wasn't exactly comfortable to lay on for several hours, but oh well. He was pretty sure Simon appreciated being left alone, so Grace supposed that made it worth it.

As he headed down the corridor to check on Simon, he paused at the window. His mouth dropped open, and he rubbed his eyes quickly. Still, nothing changed.

Outside the window was not the sea of red he'd been expecting, but Tau Ceti.

Survived the movie AU, a significant amount of time later: He cuts his hair, maybe he even bleaches it if he can. He gets a job working on the tree (because he exploded into a tree, and now that needs people working on it), because he knows about trees so he can actually help. He changes his voice, or he stops talking entirely relying on written notes instead. Maybe he makes a fake arm if he can't get a prosthetic, and puts a long glove on it so no one can tell. Maybe he puts the fake arm in a sling so he has an excuse on why he doesn't use it.

He's blending in. Everyone knows about the convict they rescued from the tree, they know who he is, how many he's killed. Maybe there's been a few packages delivered to people who had family members he killed. "From: The Convict" with enough smuggled rations for a month, and a simple apology written on top. Maybe they've gotten more than one, not all with the apology, but every few months, another package of food, or bandages, or clothes.

No one knows who the convict is, not a name to the legacy. Simon told the story that he got transferred to the job when the convict got one (not a lie). Maybe he tried to make a friend or two, maybe he shut himself off and refuses to let anyone but the necessary people know his name.

Maybe Ava, Jack, and David are already dead, succumbed to cancer. Maybe they lived and won't see him. Maybe they lived and he refuses to see them.

He wears one tight neck warmer over his face below the hood, just in case. He might even have another. Three layers between the world and the mutations.

And then, one day, he slips up. He doesn't wear the hood, or he forgoes one of the tighter masks over his face. Or someone walks into his room unannounced, or the bathroom when he was trying to change the bandages over his forever bleeding jaw and mouth mutations. Any type of slip up works.

They see. He stares, they stare. They both know everyones been on the lookout for a mutated guy, trying to figure out who the convict is. To kill him? To beat him? To thank him (if they even give him credit for finding the box. They probably don't)? Who knows.

Simon runs before he can see their reaction. He slips into the corner of his room. He doesn't bother to lock the door. His life is over, metaphorically or literally, it doesn't matter. Either someone finds out and kills him, or he gets shunned to the point he might as well be dead.

(TW: Mentions of growing up in a cult, ritualistic murder, being pressured into murder, and cancer. Dissociative episode ? kinda ? VIVID description of vomiting. And gratuitous amounts of blood. Obviously.)

Ava turned to continue walking, but Simon couldn’t tear his eyes off the unconscious welder.

He had done that. He’d hit the button — activated the fucking radiation gun that they stuck to the front of the ship and called a camera — in a furious, desperate attempt to do anything he could to just get them to listen for five seconds-

He was angry and scared and he lashed out in the only way he could, and in doing so had blasted a man point-blank with so much radiation it basically deep-fried his internal organs.

That man — Jack. His name was Jack — was going to die because Simon was careless. Because he didn’t bother to think.

He’d killed for Eden, because they told him it was necessary. That it was good. For the Tree. For his brothers and sisters.

He... didn’t think he believed that anymore.

It made him nauseous now, thinking about the amount of blood he had on his hands. Even before they dropped him in a literal fucking ocean of the stuff.

Simon the Butcher.

He never wanted that. He never wanted to hurt anyone. The Father told him it had to be done, that it wasn't a choice. Simon had believed him... until he had started to wonder. Until he had started to question.

Until Filament Station.

But now someone was dying - not because it was “necessary” or for a “greater purpose” - but because Simon lashed out and hurt him because that was what he did. He hurt and killed and destroyed because he was good at it and he was never given a choice in anything and he was so tired of killingpeople-

He-

He was-

He didn’t-

Simon didn’t want him to die.

The world slowed, sound warped. Everything outside his immediate surroundings blurred like a camera out of focus. The medbay shifted around him and Simon didn’t realize he was the one who had moved until he was suddenly next to the bed, reaching out his remaining hand.

People were talking. Something grabbed his injured shoulder. It hurt, but it didn’t matter. His palm flattened in the center of the man- Jack’s chest and he reached out-

Oh. He could see it. Feel it? The sickness. The cancer. The places of wrongness where the cells were damaged and had started clumping together unnaturally.

Shouting. Movement around him. The hand on his shoulder tightened and tried to pull him away-

No!

No no, he could- they- he could fix it if they justLET HIM-

The hand let go. The shouting got louder. It didn’t matter.

He had a hold of it now.

He pulled, unraveling the knotted mass and drawing it up, up and out.

When he was sure it was gone — that nothing but healthy, living tissue remained — he was left with a gap. A tear in the fabric of the body where sickness had been removed. So he reached and pulled the edges together, smoothing it down gently and coaxing the seam to close.

He moved onto the next place that felt wrong, then the next. And the next. Until there were none left, and he knew it was done and he could pull away-

Simon blinked, coming back to himself all at once. His chest rose and fell on a breath. He felt the chill of the medbay settle on the exposed skin of his neck and arm. Saw his own hand where it laid on the other man’s chest, solid, and streaked with-

Horror shot through his system like a flash of that damn camera though the sub and he jolted back, panicked breath picking up even more when the fabric tried to stick to his hand and then fell away with a glistening wet, red stain-

Blood.

That- that was-

He- that- oh god, what had he-

Before the thought could even register, white-hot pain shot through his stomach and he doubled over, arm flying up to clutch it reflexively.

Fuck. Fuck. Tears gathered in his eyes and his whole body shuddered as he retched, a horribly familiar metallic tang bubbling up his throat and out of his mouth in a stream of red-red-Red. He heaved, gagging and gasping as blood and- and clumps of something splatted to the floor between his boots.

God, god. What- what was happening to him? What had he-?

He blinked- swayed- found himself on his knees. His single, bloodied hand barely managed to catch his weight and keep him from fully hitting the floor, still choking on whatever the fuck was coming out of him.

He- oh god, had he even made it out of the sub? Was he- was he still there? Trapped in that goddamned metal coffin, suffocating? Drowning? Dying? Was all this — the explosion, being found, getting out — was it all just another fucked up hallucination??

Tears trailed down his face uninhibited as he fought his own body desperately for air, the sharp pain slowly, agonizingly slowly, receding to a low throb as the seemingly endless stream of blood thinned with bile.

By the time he managed to stop himself from coughing up more, his arm was shaking and his vision flickered like a bulb with faulty wiring. With what little awareness he still possessed, he tipped to the side and managed to land beside the puddle of gore instead of in it.