Beans Sideblog For Tiggles

Half the battle of recovering after physical trauma is the physiological condition.

The human body can find a way to function, even under the most obscure circumstances. With enough time, life will find a way to persist.

It may not look the same as it did before… smooth lines become jagged, even tones become blotchy…

But cells, blood, muscle, organs, and skin don’t care about how they look. Life in a body is about utility, not aesthetics.

As true as all of this is, ithe words fall meaninglessly flat to someone who may be physically healed, but not entirely emotionally.

Words can only go so far…

-

“Don’t pick at your skin, Si, you’ll irritate it.”

I mutter, hunched over a hunk of metal I was in the middle of clumsily dismantling, removing hammed screws with nothing but thick, hooked pliers and hope.

“It’s itching.”

I look up to see where Simon was scratching, since I’d only responded to the sound before.

His hand, clawed and rigid against the marred half of his face, raked at the skin around the split that gave way for long, sharp teeth protruding from the back of his upper and lower jaw, across almost to his canines.

I nod slowly. “Yeah, that area’s gonna be a little sensitive for a while. Still, don’t mess with it.”

“It’s been months- everything’s done healing… it’s just this stupid face thing!”

“Well, the skin on your face had to stretch and break in… kinda unconventional ways to accommodate your new teeth, so your body’s still acclimating.”

“God I hate these stupid fuckin’ things.”

“Your teeth?”

Simon grunts in reply, leaning back in his chair. There was a resentful darkness in his eyes.

“Why? I think they’re awesome!”

“You think everything’s awesome.”

“Somethin’ wrong with that? I’m a positive guy, what can I say.”

Simon rolls his eyes. “They make everything 10,000 times more difficult. Eating, talking - I bite my tongue like… five times an hour… and they’re just hideous- I mean- why on the outside of my face?!”

“Hey, hey - first of all they’re not hideous, don’t say stuff like that. You’re just not fully used to them yet. As for everything else, that’s just dental recovery, bud. I mean, yours is a special case, sure, but all your symptoms are normal!”

“How the fuck would you know?”

I smile, setting the pliers down.

“When I was in my 20’s I had to get my wisdom teeth taken out. All four of ‘em. I knew it was important, I knew I had to do it, but you wanna know what I did?”

Simon tries to look disinterested, but he takes the bait.

“What.”

“I waited. Years. Like, four years. I was in excruciating pain all the time, they were growing in crooked, and bashing into other teeth and impacting them- oh it was a nightmare. Once I finally bit the bullet and got them all removed, and got all the teeth I messed up in the process fixed, you wanna know how long it took for me to fully heal up?”

“…How long…”

“Two. Years. Two years! My jaw was so sore and jacked up the first six months alone, my brother had to feed me soup like a baby. I couldn’t talk, eat, sleep comfortably, or use a straw for at least 3/4 of that time. And I managed to give myself a dry socket at some point too… beside the point. What I’m saying is, I get it. It’s normal. And my dental work was internal.”

“…Why the hell did you wait so long?”

“I’m scared of the dentist- is that really what you gleaned from my story? My dentophobia?”

“Is that a word?”

“I promise it is.” I chuckle, reaching across the table to catch Simon’s hand before he instinctively scratches at his face again.

He groans. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just be careful.” I smile, releasing his hand, and going back to my work.

Simon nods slowly.

“It’d be so much easier if I could just-“ he snaps his fingers. “Get rid of them. Have a symmetrical face again…”

He sighs, carefully watching me pull and yank at old nails, wiggling them out slowly but surely.

“Symmetry is so overrated. You’ve got character this way. I would have killed to look that cool as a kid.” I smile.

Simon hums softly.

I take a look at the clock mounted on the lab wall. It’s getting to be evening - not that it matters in space anyway.

“Why don’t I make us some ramen?” I suggest, sitting upright on my stool. “It’s soft and easy to eat. Won’t irritate your jaw.”

Simon chuckles. “Everything we eat out here is soft.”

“Wrong. You ever try uncooked ramen?”

“Raw?!”

“Yeah, with the seasoning backet sprinkled over it? It’s great! It’s like a bag of chips’l

“Euch…”

“Oh come on, it’s the same thing as cooked ramen, just dehydrated! It’s not bad!”

Simon wrinkles his nose.

“Whatever, hater. Go wash up while I get supper ready.”

-

It’s been fifteen minutes…

Thankfully our soup was well insulated in the food heating system, so I wasn’t nexissarily worried about dinner getting cold.

I was concerned about what could possibly be taking so long.

“Grace!”

“Woah-! Rocky! Hey bud- w-where have you been? I haven’t seen you for hours.”

I’d been so lost in thought I hadn’t even heard Rocky’s thundering hamster ball careening down the hall… somehow.

“Rocky working up in cockpit.”

“On what..?”

“Third chair. Rocky make chair for Rocky!”

I tilt my head, hands on my hips.

“You already had a chair, buddy- yours was the copilot seat. What, you don’t wanna be my copilot anymore?”

“Rocky still copilot. Two copilots now! Rocky give human chair to Simon, and Rocky build new chairthat can accommodate ball!”

I smile. Honestly, that’s really sweet of him.

“Ohhh Rocky that’s really nice of you to give your old chair to Simon, I’m sure he’ll really appreciate it.”

“Good good good.”

Roxky shifts around proudly in his ball, trilling softly.

“Speaking of Simon… he’s taking forever to come up to eat.”

“Why, question?”

“I dunno! I sent him down to wash up almost 20 minutes ago…”

Rocky stands still, a stream of clicks echoing through the hamster ball.

“Rock, you don’t have to spy on him I’m sure he’s alright-“

“Rocky see Simon in bathroom in dorm.”

“W-what? Still?”

“Sitting on floor, statement.”

My heart sinks. “On the floor?”

Rocky trills in reply.

“Cannot see much else. Very still.”

“Like- alive still? Or passed out still?”

“Cannot tell, statement.”

I hufff, hesitating for a moment, before starting off to the dorm.

“Rocky come too, question?”

“N-no bud, you stay up here for now. I’ll call if I need you. I don’t wanna overwhelm him.” I call over my shoulder as I jog through the lab to the hatch.

I pass the table I had been sitting at with Simon e just a little while ago. Everything was, for the most part, in place…

But my pliers were missing…

-

“Simon? Simon! Where are you, man?! Your noodles are getting cold!”

…no reply.

I crawl down the ladder, doing my best to be as quiet as I can.

“Simon..?” I reach the landing, standing still, waiting for any sign of life.

There’s a rustle from the bathroom. Found him.

“I’m coming in, bud… just- just a warning…”

“N-no…”

I freeze. That’s Simon’s voice for sure, but he sounds different… weak, maybe.

“Not an option.” I don’t mean to sound as stern as I do.

I take a deep breath, and approach the open bathroom, knocking on the wall to announce myself before turning the corner.

Oh my god… oh my god oh my god…

“H-holy crap- Simon?!”

The hunched, heaving figure in the corner doesn’t reply.

I can see red, but I can’t see the source. It’s on him, there’s some streaked on the floor, and he’s got his hands clenched by his face.

He’s got something.

“SIMON-! Simon, drop it, NOW!”

I shout, rushing into the room barely large enough for one person, let alone two.

I nearly slip on a small, slick puddle of blood, steadying myself on either wall, before dropping down in front of Simon, who I’m not even sure is fully aware that I’m here.

He’s breathing heavily, so much so that he’s growling upon every exhale. His eyes are wide, looking through me, rather than at me, both hands, real and prosthetic, grotesquely sparkling with blood, wrapped around some kind of tool.

My pliers.

The blood’s coming from his mouth… the teeth on the side of his face.

“Simon, listen to me… drop the pliers. Now.” I plead with him, desperately trying to keep my voice calm and even.

I want to reach for the pliers, but any number of things could happen if I make the wrong move here.

I could jab him in the face, I could accidentally aid in removing whatever he’s got a hold on - anything could happen. My safest bet was to talk him down.

“Simon. Can you hear me? I need to know that you can hear me.” I shuffle closer to him. My knees streaked red, but I don’t care.

I carefully raise my hands, opting to take Simon by the shoulders in an attempt to ground him.

“I’m here to help you - I’m not here to do anything but help you.”

“You can’t help me.”

“Yes I can! Let me try!”

“There’s NOTHING YOU CAN DO.”

He lurches at me, and I tumble backwards, landing on my elbows.

Simon lets go of the pliers with the stronger, xenonite hand, using it to prop himself up above me. That’s progress. He’s only holding them with his thumb and two fingers now…

“Simon-“

“NOTHING.” He grits through his teeth, blood dribbling down his chin, landing like raindrops on my thankfully red shirt.

“Try me, Simon! I can’t help you if you don’t tell me how I can!” I can feel my heart pounding through my chest.

“I want them gone.” Simon’s voice is deep, manic.

“You want what gone…?”

He grips the pliers tighter.

“Y-your teeth! Ok, understood, you’ve want them gone…”

“I look like a monster…”

“No, you don’t, I promise you don’t…”

“I want it all gone, Grace… I want the gills gone, I want my face back… I want these fuckin… teeth…”

He sits up, gripping the pliers with both hands again, eyes squeezing shut.

“NO-! NO NO, SIMON, STOP!” I sit up, grabbing Simon’s wrists, desire my better judgment.

“I JUST WANNA BE NORMAL AGAIN. I DON’T WANT TO BE UNCOMFORTABLE ALL THE FUCKING TIME.” His voice breaks, slurred through his gritted teeth.

“OKAY, T-THAT’S REASONABLE! JUST- LET GO SO WE CAN TALK!” I plead, doing my best to pull his arms outward to release pressure on whatever tooth he’s got a hold on.

“WHY DOES IT FUCKIN’ MATTER TO YOU?! YOU DON’T KNOW THE HALF OF THE PAIN I’M CONSTANTLY IN.”

“EXPLAIN IT TO ME, SIMON! I’M ASKING TO UNDERSTAND!” I shout, putting everything I have into dislodging the pliers.

Simon is much stronger than I am, especially on adrenaline.

Brute force alone isn’t enough… I have to think of something else.

I look at my hand, streaked with Simon’s blood, and I have an idea. Understanding the risk of injury to myself, and more importantly, to Simon, but it’s my best shot.

I weigh my options, deciding it’s worth a try.

I loosen my grip with my left hand, letting Simon gain control of the pliers. I ease up with my right hand as well, lowering the resistance between us.

I swipe my hand upward, as though I slipped, sliding my palm against the hook of the pliers, hissing in “pain” and yanking both my hands away, holding my left tight.

“AH-! Crap-!” I wince, looking down at my unscathed hand, groaning and hunching over.

“GRACE-!” As I’d hoped, Simon’s attention diverts to me, and he reaches a hand out to me, lowering the pliers with the other.

I grab his arm tight, yanking him towards me, flipping both of us over, landing Simon on his back, stunned.

Both my hands find Simon’s wrists, pinning them to the floor. The xenonite elbow joint hisses and clicks in protest, and I make a note to take a look at the damage is no doubt caused later.

“Drop the pliers.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“NOW. DROP THEM.” I shout.

Simon winces, opening his hand, letting the bloody tool fall to the ground.

I flick them away with two fingers, and they skitter across the floor, out of Simon’s reach.

“How much damage is there.”

“Get o-“

“Answer my questions, or I will put you under and look for myself.”

“Is that a treat?”

“It’s a promise. What did you do with the pliers, Simon?”

“…two.”

“Jesus…”

“They were coming out anyway.”

“What?!0

“They were already loose.”

“You can regenerate teeth?!”

“Yes.”

“What..? Whatever, Fine, fine- then why are you bleeding so much?!”

“They weren’t completely loose.”

I can feel my stomach turn.

“Let me see.”

Simon narrows his eyes at me.

“I’m trying to help you, let me see the extractions, so I know how I can help you.”

He hesitates.

“Open.”

Slowly, Simon loosens his jaw, opening his mouth. The left side opens just a little wider to account for the extra teeth behind what used to be his molars.

I can see two, dark, reddish black sockets among the spiked teeth. They weren’t too big, nut they weren’t the cleanest extractions either.

The surrounding tissue was red, swollen, and littered with pokes and nicks from the pliers - failed attempts to grip onto a tooth.

I grab Simon’s chin, tilting his head to catch the low light at a few different angles, making sure I haven’t missed anything.

“Two extractions, no fragmented teeth left behind … minor abrasions in the gums and surrounding tissue…” I sigh, releasing Simon’s face.

Simon rests his head back on the floor, closing his mouth again, and I sit up on his hips, taking a long breath.

“That the fuck were you thinking?!”

“Woah-“ Simon flinches, looking up at me like I’m out of my mind.

“Do you have any idea how much danger you could have put yourself in?! Any idea at all?!”

“…”

“What if you struck a larger vein? W-what if you gave yourself some crazy infection that neither myself nor Armando could handle?!”

“Gracie, I-“

“There’s a nonzero chance that you could’ve… I-… how many… never mind.”

“What?”

“Nothing, never mind, I do t wanna know.”

“What were you gonna ask? You want me to talk things out, let’s start here.” Simon says softly.

“Fine. How many times have you done this? How many times, while I have been busy, sleeping, or otherwise occupied, have you been down here mutilating yourself to make yourself less of a monster that you never were to begin with?!”

“…Never.”

“Bull.”

“I promise, Ryland, I’m being honest.”

“You’re not just saying that because the teeth have grown back, and if never know the difference?”

“No.”

I sigh, nodding my head slowly.

“Please don’t ever do this again.”

“Okay…”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

“You scared the hell out of me.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“No… no, don’t be sorry, it’s selfish of me to make this about how I feel- c’mon, sit up.”

I scoot myself back, freeing Simon’s legs from under mine, and he sits up slowly.

The moment he’s upright, I reach out, and pull him into a hug. The tightest I’d ever held him.

Simon’s hands find my back, holding me just as tight, his head buried in my shoulder.

“Are you in pain?”

“Not really… just sore.”

“Adrenaline…”

“No…”

“No?”

“No, remember I said they were already on their way out? Besides the initial… resistance, there was barely any pain. Kinda like a paper cut. Doesn’t hurt a lot, bleeds like a gunshot.”

“Okay- Simon you don’t have to explain this to me right now- we can do this later.” I pat him on the back a few times.

“It’s find. Talking through it helps. R emember the eel tooth I gave you?” Simon pulls back from the hug, and points to the xenonite pendant on my chest with a tilt of his head.

I look down as well, lifting the pendant in the palm of my hand to take a closer look at it.

“See how the root is shorter? Thats exactly how my teeth look. They’re not embedded as deeply as human teeth are.”

He’s got a point. At the top of the curved, saber tooth, is a short, flat root, barely half an inch long.

“Fair enough… ok, fair enough.” I let the pendant drop back down to my chest. “Shouldn’t be too hard to patch you up then… c’mon.”

I release Simon, and stand up, brushing the wrinkles from my shirt.

“But… The bathroom- I- shouldn’t I clean this up first?”

“I’ll handle it later.”

“Grace, I fucked everything up in here, I can clean it myself.”

I sigh shaking my head. “I said I’ll handle it later. I really don’t want you in here by yourself any more than absolutely necessary. It’s fine, I scrubbed the whole ship clean of ocean blood, I can handle half of a half bath.” I extend my hand down to Simon, with a thin lipped smile.

He hesitates for a moment, opening his mouth as if to protest. He thinks better of it, nodding, and accepting my hand. 



-

“Okay, swish this around and spit it back out.”

“Why do I have to spit it out?”

“It’s salt water with peroxide.”

“What-? Is that safe?”

“What’re you worried about safety for? Didn’t you tell me you drank isopropyl alcohol?”

“Same thing as the stuff you drink.”

“…vodka? Ethanol? No, not the same at all. A-anyway, yes, peroxide is perfectly safe fo sterilization purposes. It’s just water with an extra hydrogen atom. H2O2. It will upset your stomach if you swallow it though, especially mixed with salt and blood.”

I hand Simon a warm plastic cup, and he takes it, covering the toothy half of his face with a hand, sealing any gaps as he swishes the water around.

He winces - fron the sting of the salt in the extraction site, and whatever little nicks and cuts he’d made around his mouth, I imagine - and spits the now bright scarlet solution back into the cup.

“Yeah… doesn’t feel great, I know. But it’ll keep the area clean. I’m gonna have you do that twice a day until the new teeth starts coming in, and the internal cuts heal up, just to minimize infection risk.”

Simon nods, watching me set down a bucket of steaming, soapy water, only filled an out a quarter of the way for conservation sake.

“Shirt please.”

I have Simon seated on the dorm floor, with a few towels draped over his lap, and on the floor under him, hair tied back in my best attempt at a bun.

He slid off the black t-shirt without protest, setting it down beside him.

Thankfully there wasn’t too much blood on his chest or torso.

I think being in a dim, dark bathroom made everything look worse than it was. The majority seemed to have soaked into the collar of the shirt, concentrating the thicker streaks to his face, jaw, neck, and a few smatterings on his collar.

His hand was washed, and his prosthetic was removed to be properly repaired and sanitized. I could make quick work of the rest.

I wring out the sponge, bringing it up to Simon’s shoulder.

I don’t touch him until he gives me the cue to do so. Once he nods, I gently scrub away at the red streaks.

“I uh… I don’t know, I guess I thought it would make me look more normal…”

I raise a brow.

“What’s up?”

“Taking the teeth out, I mean… I dunno.”

Oh…

“Ah, okay. I can live with that reasoning. A little skewed, but…”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll give you two answers - one from a scientist, and one from a friend.” I dip the sponge again.

“Let’s say for a sec that your teeth didn’t regenerate, and you wanted to remove them all, given your current condition.” I start, scrubbing away at the top of Simon’s chest. “The extraction points would be visible from the outside, based on how those teeth are rooted, and once the wounds healed and closed, the scarring would most likely leave dents in your cheeks and jaw. Not to mention, you’d probably be in a world of pain… I don’t know what you consider “normal”, but that surely wouldn’t be it.”

Simon hums in thought.

“Now, as your friend, I really don’t think there’s any need to get rid of your teeth at all. Simple as that.”

“Why? I mean, thank you, but they’re so obtrusive, and they get in the way…”

“Same with my arm. My acid burnt arm, neck, and chest. I’ve lost so much feeling in the most random little areas, the skin is rough and tight and discolored and dry… but it’s part of me now. Ryland on earth would probably hate the way Ryland in space looks with a broiled body - or maybe he’d love it, I dunno, he’s a strange fella - but regardless, it’s part of me, my body, and my story. The series of scars tells a crucial story about how I got here… why I’m still alive, and what I’ve endured to still be breathing today.”

I tilt Simon’s head to the side to remove the blood from his jaw and beard.

“And the same goes for your scars, aand your mutations. Like yeah, old Simon didn’t ask for saber teeth, two sets of gills, one red eye, and a missing arm, but without gills, you would have drowned! That alone is incredible! Look at how much we’ve been able to learn about you through the changes your body’s endured! I- I mean it’s incredible! You can breathe fhrough four different parts of your body, you’ve got teeth that can rip through metal, dude- you’re a biological marvel! You could be from Marvel!” I smile, pulling back for a moment to assess my work. He was nearly clean.

Simon ponders my words for a while.

“…Thank you, Grace, I- I really do appreciate what you’re saying-”

“But…”

“But… even still- I just feel like I look scary. That’s not- I don’t think it represents me anymore.”

“Scary? Y’think?” I frown.

“Yeah… right?”

“If that’s really what you’re worried about, you’re a good looking guy, Simon. And that’s with scars and mutations. Good looking people tend to look even better with battle scars.”

“…What?”

“I’m being serious! How many movies have we watched with protagonists that take hit after hit, bump after bruise, and by the climax of the story, they look like the most powerful person in existence?”

“Those are movies. That’s fiction.”

“I could be convinced that you’re a movie protagonist like that.” I shrug, setting my fists on my hips.

Simon lets out a quiet, amused chuckle, which I’m ecstatic to hear.

“I’m just sayin’… I know I’m biased here, but I don’t think you need “symmetry” or stupid boring average features to be normal. You’re cool! You look cool, Simon.”

“…Thank you…”

“Don’t mention it… plus, I mean you’ve got fanged canines, which is like… objectively attractive…”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, I genuinely didn’t near you. You know my hearing’s shot.”

I clear my throat, willing away the red heat on the tips of my ears, and reaching back for the sponge, squeezing it a few times to reignite the suds.

“Just talking to myself. Anyway, I’m just about done… and now you smell like lavender, thanks to whatever infinite shelf life NASA soap they sent me out here with.”

“‘Now’? You sayin’ I smelled bad before?”

Yes. Like iron, sweat, and man. But I’d never say it like that.

“You said it, not me.”

“What?!”

“Hey! I’m just sayin…”

“Oh come on! Gimme a break, I’m aquaphobic. Rocky gets to walk around smelling like cat piss all the time, and you don’t say shit!”

“Ammonia, first of all, ok? It’s not cat urine, Rocky doesn’t even know what a cat is.And besides, that’s not his fault. His atmosphere is made of ammonia- and he doesn’t have an olfactory system, so he can’t smell anyway.” I huff.

“That’s probably why he still hangs out with your funky butt when you haven’t showered in days, stinkfish.” I chuckle, making a few final passes with the sponge over the side of Simon’s neck. I take extra care around his gills, though I can see his shoulder twitch.

“Stinkfish is ridiculous.”

“You know It was funny.”

Simon huffs, shaking his head.

“Oh- see?! You laughed! Told you!”

“That wasn’t laughter, I exhaled at you.”

“What’re you a bull?” I raise both index fingers to the sides of my head, letting out a heavy huff like an angry bull.

Simon gives me a thin lipped smile. Tough crowd…

“Oh come on, that’s a weak one. Let’s see that pretty smile with all those pretty teeth.” I snicker.

“Absolutely not.”

“Please?!”

He rolls his eyes at me.

Abandoning the sponge in the bucket beside us, I take Simon’s face in both my hands.

“Get the hell off me Gracie.”

“One smile. For the both of us. C’moooon.”

Simon narrows his eyes at me.

With the tips of my fingers on both hands, I gently scratch behind Simon’s ears, whatching his poker face shift just about as fast as the iodine clock reaction.

“GrahahAhahace! Get the hell away from me-!”

He rounds his back, shrugging his shoulders up.

“Oh! Oh, what’s this?! I think we’re getting somewhere!”

Simon attempts to grab both my wrists, only managing to grab one, forgetting he’s currently short one hand with his prosthetic missing.

“Ohhh, tough luck, buddy, your shields are down by half, womp womp!” I move one hand up to gently scritch along the spiked shell of Simon’s altered ear, tracing the fin-like shape as though I were trying to commit it to memory, and rolling the sturdy spiked tips between my fingers.

“AAAAahahahAHA- s-shIHIHIT- A-AH- AH-!”

Simon snorts, tucking his chin down towards his chest.

“Nuh-uh. No no no, Look up, look at me.” I purr, tilting my head to stay in his sight line.

“Shut uhUHUHUP-! Fuckin’ asshole!” Simon hisses.

“Up up, Simon, c’mon. My face is up here- lemme see yours!” I move one hand to his chin, tilting it up with a little resistance. He finally relents, keeping his face straight with mine.

He wears a reluctant, wobbly smile - still trying to hold himself together, but for what reason, I really was t sure.

That’s alright. Easy fix.

Without warning, I shoot my hands down under Simon’s arms, scratching against the uppermost rungs of his ribs.

“AaAAAHAHA-! WHAHAHA?!” Simon shrieks, wobbling backwards, rolling onto his back.

I follow him down, skittering lower, down his ribs.

“There we go! Look at that handsome smile! Tktktktktk!” I bring a hand down to his knee, squeezing the muscle just above it over and over.

“SHUHUHUT UP! A-AHAHAAAAAA- UUURGHAHAHA!” Simon growls through his laughter, thrashing around under my hands.

“Settle down, jeez! You’re gonna kick me in the nose!”

“GOOHOHOD.”

I gasp. “You would never.” I give Simon’s side a pinch, earning me a sharp jolt.

Simon lifts a leg at me like a cat gearing up to swipe.

“I wish you would!” I playfully threaten.

He kicks blindly - not quick enough to hurt me, if it were to land, of course.

I catch him by the ankle, turning my back to Simon, and putting his ankle in a headlock.

“NO! M-NONO WAIT- WAIT- I- I’M SORRY-!”

“You’re sorry you got caught, dummy.” I smile over my shoulder at him. “I’m a twin for Pete’s sake- you think I don’t know how to catch a kick?” I chuckle.

With my free hand I suddenly rake at the bottom of Simon’s socked foot, playing a little rougher than I usually do.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH-! A-AHAHAHAHAHA- SHIT SHIT SHIHIT FUCK-! GRAHAHACE-!”

My goodness he’s loud… I wince, honestly not expecting him to scream bloody murder.

“Holy crap! Seriously?!” I look back at Simon again, and he’s covered his face with his hand, shouting into it, writhing around violently.

“GRACE- PLEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAAAAA- AAAAAHAHA-!” He can hardly form coherent sentences

“Grace please what? Use your words, please.”

“SOMEWHERE EEEHEHELSE-! I- PLEHEHEASE-!”

I smile at him over my shoulder. Honestly I’m thrilled he seems to be enjoying himself.

“Move your hand away from your face and I will.” I drag all five nails up from heel to toe, waiting for him to consider my offer.

With a howl of laughter, Simon forces his hand down to his side, cackling freely into the echoing air of the dormitory.

“OKAHAHAHAY OKAHAY STOOHOHOP! STOP! MAAAARY! MARY!”

I slow to a stop. Releasing Simon’s ankle.

“Good evening, Simon.” Mary replies through the intercoms.

“Stop bothering Mary, man, I already promised I would stop.” I sit up beside Simon, allowing him to catch his breath.

“UuuuuuUUUGH.”

I smile, giving him a squeeze on the shoulder. “You alright?”

“Mhm…”

I nod, smiling rather fondly at him.

“…why are you staring at me like that?”

“I’m just sitting here!”

“Smiling like an idiot! What?!”

“Nothing! It’s nice to see you smile!”

“Oh shut up.”

“What! I’m being serious! You’ve had a tough day! Ohhh what is it a crime to wanna see you happy?!”

“Why’re you being so saccharine sweet right now?”

“I’m not!”

“Yes, you are!”

“I think you’ve just been so mean to yourself all day, you’ve forgotten how love, care, and kindness are supposed to feel, you semi-aquatic storm cloud.” I jab him in the navel to punctuate my point.

Simon jolts with a strangled wheeze.

“Who’s the last person to actually treat you with kindness, hm?”

Simon is silent for a while, pondering, while I patiently wait, sitting crisscross beside him.

“…”

“Wow, seriously? The bar’s so low it’s in hell, huh…” I mutter.

“Do you count?”

“…You have to be joking.”

“I’m being serious!”

“No! Before me! Pre-Hail Mary!”

“…”

“No one?!”

“Nothing springs to mind…”

“Man… no wonder you’re so tough on yourself…”

Simon shrugs.

“We’re hopeless…” I joke, shaking my head.

“Hang on, who the fuck is ‘we’?”

“Us. Simon Fisher and Ryland Grace.”

“I’m not hopeless, I’m a work in progress. I just have my moments.”

I give him a look.

“And today was one of those moments.” Simon mutters.

“…”

“…”

“I’m really the last person in recent memory to be nice to you?”

“In all memory.”

“…jeez.”

“Yeah.”

“How’s it feel?”

“So bizarre.”

“Really?”

“Yeah- before, any positive interaction was uh… y’know, was expected to go both ways.”

“Transactional.”

“Exactly. I do something for you, you give me something back. Problem is, if you’re too nice, you end up getting ripped off, taken advantage of… So it’s not entirely a matter of everyone just being as asshole. You learn to keep your guard up. Safety, and all that.”

“Man, that’s brutal.”

“Mhm.”

“…”

“You don’t… feel like that here, do you? Like you’re indebted to us, or feel like you need to stay on guard?”

“No, no… not anymore.”

“Anymore?!”

“Well I didn’t know what I was up against before, or who you were… I- I dunno, it took time to trust you, but I can comfortably say that I do now.”

I nod slowly, eyes fixed on the floor. There’s a melancholy sort of happiness in my chest that I’m unsure of how to emote.

“I’m still coming around emotionally… evidently… but for what it’s worth, you’re the first person in my life that I feel like I can trust not to stab me through the back of I turn around. And maybe that’s because you saved my- oh- ohhhh shit… Gracie…”

I sniffle, wiping my eye with my sleeve.

“N-no, no it’s- I’m fine… I told you I’m a crier.” I chuckle through my wavering voice, smiling down at Simon.

Simon snickers, sitting up slowly, opening his arm out.

I fall into the offered hug, a bit dramatically, but the sets par for the course.

“Y’know, now that I think about it, I really didn’t get a lot of hugs back home either…” Simon mutters, wrapping an arm around my back.

“Oh come on, now you’re just trying to make me cry.”

Simon shrugs. “I mean… it’s kinda funny…”

“Ohhh you jerk!” I scoff, dropping my hands down to Simon’s hips, digging my thumbs into the bone like drill bits.

“SHIHIHIT-! A-AHAHAHA- OKAHAHAY!” Simon wriggles, trying his hardest to get away.

He manages to turn, but I catch him around the waist before he can scamper away.

The tractionless towels on the floor give way under his feet, and he tumbles onto his side.

“Unbelievable.” I tut, shaking my head. “You think it’s funny, huh?”

I push Simon down onto his stomach, giving him barely a second to catch up before I latch onto his ribs, scratching with purpose.

“A-AHAHAHAHA-!! I- IM SOHOHORRY!!”

“‘Hilarious! Grace cares about me so much it makes him cry!’ Thats what you sound like.”

I rake my fingers up and down Simon’s ribs, feeling the seams of his gills close tight under my nails.

“I- I’M SORRY, IT- AHAHA-! IT ISNT FUNNY, i’M SORRY I- AHAHAHA-! SHIIIHIHIHAHAHAHAHA AAAAA-!”

“What’s that? I can’t really understand you…”

I turn my wrists so that my fingers scratch against the grain of Simon’s gills, my nails every so often briefly catching on the edge of the plates, not enough to lift them, but definitely enough for him to feel it.

“AAAAAA- *hic* AHAHAHAHAHAHA- GRAAAAHAHAHACE! A-AH AH-! I SAID I’M SORRY! *hic* OHOHOH GOHOHOD!!”

“Ha! Aw, you’ve got the hiccups?!” I chuckle, moving down to the lowest pair of gills.

“Y- *hic* YES- YEHEHES-! I DUHUHUNNO WHYHYHY-!”

“Diaphragmatic spasms. They can easily be triggered by excessive laughter. Makes total sense.” I shrug.

“Y-YOU’RE SU- *hic* SUCH A FUCKIN MEHEHRD, MY GOHOHOD. STOOOHOHOP!”

I finally bring my hands to a stop, sliding them up to Simon’s back.

“Don’t you *hic!* dare.”

“No, no, I’m done, promise. Let me try something. For your hiccups.”

“What- ouuugh…” Simon groans, his body relaxing into the floor as I dig the heels of my hands into the muscle, slowly sliding upward.

“Relaxing your diaphragm with firm pressure… it relaxes the diaphragm, encouraging the spasming to stop.” Suddenly, I lift my hands away, folding them against my chest, though he can’t see with his head faced down.

“But I guess if it’s too nerdy, I won’t use my understanding of anatomy to help you.” I shrug.

“N-no no… *hic* I’m sorry, it’s not nerdy, Gracie… M’sorry.” He mumbles with an oddly desperate whine.

Oh how couldn’t I smile at that? I can’t help but wonder how many other people had the privilege of his trust the way I do right now… if anyone at all.

“Alright then.” I replace my hands on Aimon’s back, gently working the muscles around his diaphragm, wincing at just how tense he was.”

“You’ve gotta start stretching, Si… you’re wound tight like a guitar string.”

“I do. *hic* I just hold onto a lot of stress.” He grumbles.

“A knot or two is stress. This is insane.” I shake my head, continuing to coax Simon’s muscles to settle and relax.

Little more than a few minutes pass, and Simon’s hiccups fade.

“Better?”

“Mhm…” Simon mumbles.

His arm is bent at the elbow, supporting his head, which is turned to the side, eyes closed and relaxed.

“Sleepy?”

He groans in reply.

I carefully climb off of him, beginning to gather up the long forgotten towels, bucket, and sponge, sliding them away to be properly dealt with later.

“Well you can’t sleep on the floor…”

“Watch me.” Simon mumbles.

“Not a challenge. C’mon- just- at least get up on the bed down here. I won’t make you go all the way upstairs.”

“Tha’s your bed though.”

“Mhm. It’s better I keep an eye on you tonight anyway.”

I take a seat on the edge of the bed, pulling the quilt back, and patting the mattress.

“C’mon. You sleep, I watch.”

Simon doesn’t move for a moment, only offering me a heavy sigh. Before long, he groggily stands himself up, shuffling over to the bed.

I smile, letting Simon take the space between myself and the wall, and he plops down like a sack of potatoes.

A small, wall mounted light is perched above the night table - I flick it on, and pick up the book on the table.

“Mary, dorm lights off, please.”

“Dormitory lights: off.”

The room falls into dim, warm light from the fixture beside me. Simon sighs quietly, turning over, and resting his head on my shoulder, his body just about as close to me as possible without his atoms passing straight through mine.

I wormmy arm behind him, combing idly through his hair, along his scalp.

“Grace..”

“Hm?”

“…I’m sorry. About earlier…”

“Please don’t start with the apologies again.” I sigh.

“I- I just…”

“There’s absolutely no reason for you to apologize for a mental breakdown you couldn’t control, okay? Get that out of your head. It’s okay.”

“…”

“All I ask is that the next time you feel like you’re on the edge of your tipping point - for any reason- come to me.” I say softly. “I will always be here for you, but I can’t help to my fullest potential if you don’t let me.”

“M’sorry...”

“No, no sorry. Just say “okay”.”

“…okay.”

I smile, gently scratching the back of Simon’s head. “Good. Now go to sleep.”

Simon sighs, relaxing into the silence.

“…Angel?”

“Human?”

“Love you…”

I feel my heart swell. How many people has he said that to before?

Better question, how many people have ever said it to him..?

“Love you too.”

“RYYYYLAAAAA- oof- goddamnit…”

The door to my apartment jostles, and I hear the thunk of body weight against the outside of it.

I groan, dragging a hand down my face, and look at the time at the bottom right of my screen.

It’s 9:45 pm. What the hell is he doing here so late?

“Pull the handle up, not down, Colt.” I grumble through my hand.

I know the cacophonous ruckus of my twin brother anywhere. I didn’t even have to ask who was there…

“I knew that.”

“Evidently not.”

There’s some more fuss with the latch, and finally the door swings open.

“RYLAAAAAND GRAAAAACE!” Colt shouts, arms out like he’s awaiting applause and camera flashes.

He steps through, letting the door slam behind him.

“This is an apartment complex. You realize this, yes?” I don’t bother to look over at him.

“Uh… yes? Obviously?”

“Then why are you making the most noise physically possible- shoes. Shoes off before you step in my kitchen.”

Colt scoffs, kicking off his boots and nudging them to the door with his foot, hands raised in surrender.

“Sorry, mom, jeez.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Colton?”

“Government name? Both syllables, huh? Oh You’re pissed.”

“No, I’m busy. I’ve got a lot of work I’ve gotta finish up. And funny enough, no Colt is required for me to complete any of it… huh, imagine that…”

Colt hums, shrugging indifferently, shuffling into the kitchen.

“You chose to put yourself through discretionary, extra school, big guy. That’s on you.”

“Spell discretionary.” I sit back, folding my arms, watching as Colt opens the fridge I pay for, rummaging through it.

“Uhhhhh… d… e…”

“Forget it. Also I’m securing myself a career with this d-i-s-c-r-e-t-i-o-n-a-r-y, extra schoolwork.”

“I already have a career, space-face. That doesn’t work on me.”

“Space Face..?”

“Yeah- all the uh- acne you got goin’ on there… looks like-“

“Got it. Thanks.”

“Point still stands. I’m already employed.”

“Your career involves you getting thrown out of windows.”

“Yeah. And I get paid to do it. It’s awesome.”

“Tell that to your osteoarthritis in thirty years…”

Colt snickers, finally making a selection from my fridge, land popping the tab on a can of my Diet Coke.

“Ok, what’re you doing in my house.”

“Apartment, kiddo.”

“You’re twelve minutes older than me. Don’t call me that.”

“Twelve minutes wiser.” He takes an obscenely long drink of my Coke. “Can’t i just visit my brother? Jeeeez.”

“Typically, no. Usually comes with a caveat.”

I groan, hunching back over my laptop, leaving the room in silence for a few, blissful moments.

Colt, ever the fiend for attention, gets bored of my silence, and saunters his way over to me from the kitchen, standing behind my chair.

“What’ ha eorkin’ on?”

“Physics.”

“That’s a looot of letters where numbers should be.”

“They’re variables, Colt.”

“Why is that division problem so long…”

“One more time i will ask you why you’re here before i call Court.”

“Funny you should say that. He’s the one who told me to drop by.”

“Why in earth would he do that to me?” I hiss, clicking away at my keys.

“He said you’ve been avoiding his calls…”

“So? I avoid your calls too. And Holland’s.”

“Yeah, but that’s like, totally normal. You never ignore Court.”

He had a point. I’d been so swamped with grad school work that my phone had pretty much stayed on ‘do not disturb’ for the better part of two weeks now. Everyone who had attempted to contact me was left in radio silence. My brothers included. I guess Court finally got worried enough to send out a search party.

“He’s worried about you, man! You haven’t said a word to any of us in weeks! It’s like you’ve fallen off the grid! You’ve been so quiet even Holly’s concerned.”

“Oh so the whole family’s on my ass, awesome. You all know I’m in grad school, yes?”

“We know you’re in school dipshit, we just get worried when we don’t hear from you for forty days and nights.”

“Busy…”

“You probably haven’t slept in who knows how long.”

“I’ve been sleeping just fine.”

Colt huffs, a hand snakes around the side of my head, grabbing me by the cheeks, tilting it up and back. My brother stares down at me with a raised brow.

“So then all the darkness under your eyes is what, a stylistic choice then? Trying a new look?”

“Shut up.”

“I dunno! Maybe it’s Maybeline!” He chuckles, releasing my face. “C’mon. Just take a break for a little while.”

“Colt, I’m not joking I’ve got a lot of work to do, and it’s all gotta be done in two weeks!”

“That’s plenty of tiiime!”

“Every school project you’ve ever had, you waited until 6:30 the night before to do. Do not talk to me about time management.”

“And I aced them.”

“Barely passed, and aced, are two very different things.”

“Whatever, asshole. I’m just askin’ for one night off. One night! Come onnnn.” Colt walks around the side of my, leaning against my dining table. It shifts back a bit, and he stumbles like the ground’s been swept out under him, but recovers quickly.

“What the hell would we even do, anyway?! Theres nothinf to do!”

Colt opens his mouth to speak.

“If you say bar, club, or party, I’m gonna freak out.”

“…Order shitty food and watch garbage tv?”

Hard to say no to that…

“With whose money, exactly?”

Colt gives me a devious smile, reaching in his pocket, and producing a card I couldn’t recognize the branding of.

“With the studio’s money.”

-

“What the fuck is an enchirito..?” Colt wrinkles his nose at the container, passing it to me as I sit down on the couch with two soda cans.

“It’s exactly what you’re holding. An enchilada burrito.”

“Looks Like a box of swampass, but… alright.”

“Okahahay, says the guy with a Mexican pizza. What the hell is that?!”

“Hey! It’s fine Mexican cuisine!”

“Spell cuisine.”

“Q…”

“Unbelievable.” I chuckle. “At least mine’s a combination of two actual Mexican foods.”

“Concepts, of Mexican food.”

“An enchilada and a burrito? Real foods, bud.”

“None of this is real… I’m pretty sure you could leave this stuff out in the sun for 20 years, and it wouldn’t change.”

“You suggested this- would you shut up and sit down and turn the goddamn tv on, Colt?! Jesus…”

Colt makes a show of snatching up the remote up from the coffee table, switching the television on.

“Alright, what kind of sloop are we feelin’ tonight…”

“Any of your movies streaming anywhere?”

Colt gives me a cold side eye, I snicker.

“TLC?”

“Mmmm, nah, too exploitative.”

“Yeah, true…” Colt grumbles, taking a bite of his affront to Mexican food.

“Oh! There’s that obstacle course show you used to like! Y’know, with the water underneath?”

“Wipeout?”

“No, no… the actually athletic one.”

“Oh! American Ninja Warrior!” Colt beams.

“Yes! That one! Is it on anywhere?” I lean back on the couch, taking a bite of my food.

Colt hums to himself, opening the search bar, and slowly clicking through the letters.

I roll my eyes, snatching the remote. “I’m gonna show you something revolutionary, okay? Ready?” I press the very obvious voice command button on the center of the remote, and say- “American Ninja Warrior.”

The tv loads, and within a few seconds, the show is playing.

“Oooh bougie.”

“It’s a Roku, dummy. We’d be here for hours if it were up to you and your typing.”

“Shh, shut up, my shoes on.” Colt reaches over, waving a hand in my face to shut me up. I snort, slapping his arm away.

“OOOOOOOW.”

“Shhh! Colton! I have neighbors, you lunatic-! I didn’t even do anything!” I whisper-shout at him, pointing my fork at him. “Watch your show and be quiet!”

-

“I could have landed that.” Colt huffs, closing his box, and setting it on the table.

The show had been on for twenty minutes, and I’d honestly started to zone out.

“Landed what?” I focus back in.

“Watch the replay. Look”

“Oh Buuuuullshit! No you could not!” I scoff as the scene is replayed in slow motion.

“I’m trained to do that!”

“You are trained to get hit by cars, and set on fire. Not to swing around on monkey bars. That’s like a five gap!”

“I could do it.”

“Wrong. Look- watch the replay again- look at the size of that gap between him and the platform.” I point to the screen.

The particular part of the course that the contestant failed on was something of a trapeze jump from a round, unstable platform, across a wide open canyon, to the sturdy, blue dividing platform between obstacles. The contestant hadn’t built enough swinging momentum on the trapeze bar to carry him all the way across the expanse, and plummeted into the water.

“Psh. Lightwork.”

“You’re full of shit!”

“I’m not!”

I turn to Colt. “Then prove it.”

He looks over at me - not completely unwilling. “How? I’ll do it, but how?”

I hadn’t t gotten that far… I figured I would call his bluff, but of course he was completely willing.

“Do you still have that pull-up bar that I got you that you never use because you hate me and my gifts?”

“First of all, yes, it’s in the doorway to my room, drama queen. And second, you are not swinging off of that in my apartment.”

“Why?! THATS be perfect!”

“It’s not made for that much inertia! You’ll rip the wall down! And if really like to keep my deposit on this place!”

“Spell inertia.” Colt crosses his arms.

“I-n-e-r-t-i-a.” I say with a smug smile.

“Whatever. Well how am I gonna prove I can make the jump if I can’t use the bar?”

I think for a moment, taking a deep breath.

“Oh!”

“What?”

“There’s a playground out back of the building. There’s a set of monkey bars.” It wouldn’t be perfect, but it’ll do. All we needed was to settle a score.

“Is it open right now? It’s kinda late…”

“Like you care.” I scoff.

“…Yeah, you’re right.”

-

The metal gate clicks closed behind me, and Colt lands on the ground a few paces beside me, having opted to jump the fence instead.

“There was a gate right there.”

“What would I do without you, Mr Holmes?” Colt slides his hands in his pockets, shoving me with his shoulder.

The park was dark, lit only by ambient San Fran city light, and the nearly full, waxing moon.

It was the type of park playscape that would look like a sprawling kingdom to a little kid. I know I would have thought so.

There were four, tall spires, arranged in a square, with bridges connecting them all together. Each spire had a different attraction - slides, climbing nets, a rock wall, and the fourth boasted a sturdy platform that served as the launchpad for monkey bars. A set of eight swings stood off to the left, and a few of those centripetal spinning rides sat a few paces away.

In the daytime, the rubber padded park looked fresh, lively, and inviting, but in the dark, it looked more like a haunted house for kids.

“This park is loaded” Colt nods with a smile. “We woulda had the time of our lives here back in the day.”

“You say that like we’re ancient- we’re 24.” I chuckle.

“Still! It’s been a long time since we were the intended height for a playground.”

We make it to the monkey bars, and Colt climbs up onto the platform. He grabs hold of the first rung, letting his upper body hang, as he watches me scope out the dimensions of the set.

I pull a tape measure from my cardigan, and begin unraveling it.

“You keep that thang on ya, huh?” Colt chuckles.

“Don’t ever let me catch you saying ‘thang’ again.”

“I’ll be sure to say it more. How much distance do I have to clear again?”

I drop the tape, and walk back a few paces under the bars.

“From the bar you swung off from… you’ve gotta clear six.”

“Six?! I thought it was five!”

I smile. “It is, just making sure you’re posting attention. Four feet. I suggest swinging from this rung.” I pout up to the bar five away from him.

Colt stares at the bar, and at the four foot mark indicated by my tape measure.

“Yeah, that’s doable.”

“We’ll see. And please don’t hit your head, I’m tired of seeing your pathetic ass in the hospital.”

“I won’t, I won’t. Now move.”

Colt hoists himself back up onto the platform, taking a deep breath.

“Colt please be careful.”

“Awww you love me.”

“Don’t push it.” I step out of the way of the jump.

“Ready?” He nods to me.

“Mhm. Three… two… one… go!”

On my signal, Colt takes a three step running start off the platform.

He jumps low, steering his head clear of the bars, and catching the fifth rung with both hands.

He swings forward, letting go, and landing on the rubber floor with a grinding halt, letting himself fall the short distance down to the ground, sitting on his bottom.

I trot over to assess his landing.

“Oooh… just shirt… you landed at about 4.6…” I acted disappointed, but I was stoked to be correct in assuming he couldn’t make the jump.

“What?! Bullshit.”

“Look!” I sit down, and I point to the tape measure on the ground, a half a foot in front of him.

He scoffs, extending a leg out dramatically, landing beyond the tape.

“There. Made it.”

“Stop it, you were short six inches, I was right.” I nudge Colt’s leg back with my foot.

“Let me go again.”

“Hell no!”

“Why not?!”

“You get one chance at it!”

“What the hell?! We didn’t agree to that!”

“That’s how they do it in the show, Colt! One shot, and if you don’t make it, you’re out!”

“Does this look like American Ninja Warrior to you?”

“Worse, it looks like a closed playground at 11 at night with no safety pool, and plenty of things to crack your empty coconut head on when you slip and fall.”

“Oh whatever you just don’t wanna be proven wrong. You know I could make it…”

“Nohoho! I don’t care an out that! You tried, you missed, we’re done!” I shrug.

“Oh I’m going again.”

“No you’re not!”

Colt narrows his eyes at me for a moment, before attempting to break for the platform.

As he turns his body to stand, I hook my foot in front of his, and he stumbles back to the ground, falling flat like a bug.

I snort, doubling over, cackling shamelessly at my brother.

0ohhh yea, hilarious. Real funny.”

“I didn’t think you’d fahahall so hard! I- haha-!” I wheeze. “Did they teach you that ragdoll move in crash dummy school?” I snicker.

Colt slowly raises himself upright, glaring at me.

“Stohohop staring at me like you’re gonna rush me!”

“What if I am?”

“…”

“…”

I take off like a bat out of hell. The soles of my converse grind across the rubber padded ground as I struggle to find traction.

Once I get my footing I’m off like a jet, and I know Colt’s hot on my tail.

He had always been quicker than me, ever since we were little. I could never manage to beat him in a race… but in a game of chase, all I had to do was pivot, and I’d buy myself a few, precious seconds.

And that’s exactly what I do.

I run a couple more yards, before quickly rotating on my heel, hooking a sharp left, ducking into the center of the four-towered playscape. I hear Colt slide to a clumsy stop, disoriented, before finally taking off after me again.

“Haha-! All these years and that still works?!” I taunt.

“Oh shut up Ry, it’s the only trick you have.” Colt ducks into the courtyard as well, taking a few steps in, and pausing to take a breath.

“And it still works!” I chuckle through deep, ragged breaths. “I mean, you’ve already given up…”

“No I have not…”

“Yes you have! I’m looking right at you.”

“…I was just getting close enough to you to do this…” Colt takes a long step forward, swiping his hand out, and slapping me on the shoulder before I could move away. “TAG!”

“Tag?! Wgahahat?!”

Colt cackles, taking off in the other direction.

“What the hell, Colt?!” I start after him with an exasperated huff. I duck through the playscape again, out to the open park, head on a swivel.

I’ve lost him already.

“Up here, blind bozo.”

I whirl around to see Colt standing on the elevated platform of one of the castle spires, smiling down at me in the moonlight.

“How in the hell…”

I shake my head, turning, and climbing the ladder up the tower, as Colt scampers away across the connecting bridge.

I hoist myself up, and by the time I get a visual of my brother, he’s on the opposite tower to me, staring back.

I make a move like I’m going left, he flinches to the right… I hate this game.

I stand there for a second, thinking through my next move.

He’s not an idiot, he’s gonna take off the opposite way I go… maybe if I false start and only go a couple paces, he’ll run the other way and be far enough along, so that when I pivot back, I’ve got him-

“Todaaaaay, Ryland.”

“Shut up.”

“Come make me!” He flips me off from across the castle.

I huff, deciding to put my plan to the test.

I lurch right, taking four or five steps.

Just as I expected, Colt vanishes to the left.

I turn again, going back the way I came.

“WOAH-! What the fuck?! Oof-!”

We meet on the connecting bridge, and I slam into him, the both of us tumbling down to the metal, wrestling for the upper hand.

“Did you teleport?! How the hell did you get to me?!” Colt growls, shoving at my arm with one hand, and my face with the other.

“No! I just- urgh-! I just predicted how you’d move, and as usual, I was right!” I move my head out of the way, managing to get a leg over Colt, swinging myself upright, holding him down to the platform with my body weight.

“I’m not that predictable.” Colt huffs, trying his hardest to push me off.

“Wrong.” I swat his arms away, snickering down at him. “I told myself if I fake you out, you’d take off running full speed the other way, and that’s what you did!”

“So that’s what you were doing standing there buffering?” Colt snorts.

“Shut up, I was thinking.” I shove a hand under one of his raised arms, jabbing him through his jacket.

Colt shoves my hands onto away with a gasp

“Ha! Are you seriously still ticklish, Colton Seavers?”

“I literally just moved your hand away.”

“Yeah, and you gasped!”

“So fuckin’ what?!”

I smile, reaching down and squeezing Colt’s sides with an obnoxious “tktktktk!” Sound.

His muscles tense, but he barely reacts.

“Oh come on you’re holding it in!”

“I’m not holding shit in!”

“Ok well- you just ate a Mexican pizza from Taco Bell, so I know that’s a lie…”

“Not what I mean, dumbass.” Colt rolls his eyes. “I’m trained to take hits and impacts.”

“Oh bullshit!”

“Try!”

I scowl at him, taking him up on the challenge.

I jab him in the side, ribs, chest, and stomach, and all I get is the occasional sharp exhale.

“See?” He smiles proudly.

“Ugh…”

“YOU on the other hand…” Colt shoots both hands to my hips, squeezing me firmly.

I shriek, teetering backwards, and Colt slowly sits up, our positions switching horrifyingly quick.

“You’ve never grown out of it, have you?” He swings a leg over me now, anchoring me to the playscape like I had done to him a moment ago, the moon behind his head casting him in ominous shadow.

“C-Colt-! CohOHOHOLROHON-! N-NOOOHOHAHAHA!!”

“Ha! You never lost it! Ohhh this is incredible!” Colt grins, dragging his hands up and down my ribs, fingers vibrating maddeningly fast against the bone. 

“COLT ATOHOHOP! I- IT’S LATE WE CAN’T MAKE THAT MUHUXH NOISE OUT HERE!”

“Then shut up. You don’t see me screaming bloody murder.” He snickers, bringing both hands up to my arms.

“Hey- you when we were little, and Holly was trying to position us for some dumb family photo, and you freaked the fuck out when he grabbed you by the arms?” Colt gripped my by the shoulders as he spoke.

“Cohoholt… c’mon…”

“You think that still works?” He tilts his head, suddenly grabbing me by my biceps, squeezing up and down my arms, shoulder to elbow.

I snort, thrashing around in place. Why does that even work on me?”

“AAAHAHA— STOOOHOHOP XOLT AAAHAHA-!”

“No way! Oh god I’ve gotta tell him about this later! You’re ticklish in the weirdest places, man.” He turns his wrist to skitter his fingers over my elbow, and I jerk like I’d been shocked.

“AaaAAAAH! DON’T!” I theash around under Colt’s weight, only managing to turn myself onto my stomach, and give an honest effort to pull myself away.

“Where the hell are you goin’ Ry?” He grabs me around the waist, digging his fingers into the bone of my hip.

“AAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA-! STAHAHAP STOP STOPIT!!”

“My god, I’m just holding you- I’m not even tickling you, you’re moving against my hands.” He chuckles, moving his hands up to my back.

“Now this, you can laugh about.”

“SHIHIHIT- AHAHAHA-! AGH-! COLT KNOCK IT OHOHOFF!!” I cry out, pounding my fist uselessly on the platform.

Colt runs a knuckle up and down my spine with one hand, the other scratches shapes between my shoulder blades.

“COGOHOLT! YOU’RE GONNA KILL ME!” I twist my head to the side, rather disgustingly, on the platform floor.

I catch a glimpse of the door to the building opening from the inside… crap.

“WAHAHAIT! STOP-“

“What?! My god, I’m going easy on you!”

I jerk to the side, throwing Colt off balance, forcing him to pay attention.

“SHHH- Stohohop! I’m serious, quiet!” I push myself up onto my elbows, and signal for Colt to be quiet.

He scowls at me.

“What?!” He whispers.

“Would you open your eyes and observe?! The door! To the building! Look!” I point to the apartment building.

Colt crawls beside me, peering through the bars of the playscape bridge.

Light spills out from the hall inside, and a figure stands at the threshold.

“It’s security you idiot! I told you we couldn’t be loud.” I hiss.

“That was all you, bud.” Colt shrugs.

“You were making me laugh. Would you get down?!” I grab Colt by the front of the jacket, and yank him down beside me.

He bumps his forehead against the bars, eliciting a metallic, reverberating bang.

I snort, putting a hand behind Colt’s neck to keep him down.

“Asshole-!” He whispers.

“Shhh!”

Finally, after a few agonizing moments, the door closes again, and the figure is gone.

“What a shit security guard- he didn’t even come out and check…” I chuckle, looking over to Colt, who I’ve still got by the scruff like a cat.

He gives me a strained “mhm” in reply.

“What’s your deal?”

“Let goho of me.”

I furrow my brow.

“Why’re you so tense? Did you hit your head that hard?”

“Get your hand off my neck.”

“What-? Why?” I repositioned my hands slightly, barely brushing his skin, and he flinches.

I grin.

“Ohhhhh.”

“What?” He hisses.

“Oh don’t give me attitude! You are ticklish, you stupid fuckin’ liar!” I scratch a finger behind Colt’s ear, and he jerks his shoulder up like he heard a mosquito fly by.

“HA!”

“Fuck off!”

“Oh what, the University of Crash Bang Pow didn’t train you not to react to low impact tickling?”

“That doesn’t even make any goddamn sense, tickling is tickling.”

“Ohoh no it’s not. There’s two different types.”

“Oh for god’s saaaake of course your nerdy ass would know that.”

“There’s this, which is called knismesis…” I sit up and reach my hands over to squeeze roughly at Colt’s sides, to which he barely reacts, flinching, swatting my hands, and flipping himself up onto his side to glare at me.

“And then there’s this, garglesis.” I smile, reaching down to gently skitter over Colt’s stomach.

He jumps, rolling completely onto his back, with the most frantic, high pitched laughter I’d ever heard from him.

“H-hahAHAahAHA-! W-WhAT THE FUHUHUCK?!”

“It’s a much more instinctive kind of reaction- usually triggered by a bug landing on your skin, or a foreign object brushing by you… much deeper ingrained, and harder to just ‘teach yourself’ not to react to.”

I explain, bringing my other hand up to join the first, tracing abstract shapes all over Colt’s torso, scribbling my fingers all the while.

He seems almost paralyzed like this, unable to move or fight back, just lying back with hands bent in the air like a t-Rex, giggling and wheezing.

“A-AahaAHHA- OKAHAY THANK YOU PROFESSOR.” Somehow, even through his laughter, he managed to nail the snarky attitude.

“Hush. Clearly you’re enjouoyourself, or else you would have moved by now.”

“I- I CAHAHAN’T! AGH-! SHIHIT- AH-! AH-! NOT THERE! NOHOHO!”

“Where?”

“S-STOMAHAHACH!”

“That’s not your stomach, this is your epigastrium.” I draw a large circle with my finger on the area between Colt’s chest and stomach, marking the area.

“W-WELL GET AWAY FROM MY EHEHEPIC GAS STATION, BITCH!”

I chuckle. “Fine! Here!” I shrug, opting to scratch under Colt’s chin instead. I was having a blast.

“E-EHEHEheheEheHEHAHA- fuhUHUCK-!” Colt curls up on himself, kicking a leg out.

“What’re you a dog? Whats happening with that leg?!” I chuckle, finally letting go, Giving Colt a break.

“Ugh! Oh my GOD that sucked.”

“No it didn’t, you weren’t moving an inch.”

“I told you! I couldn’t! It was like I was stuck there!”

“There’s no way it was that bad.”

“You literally laughed so loud that security came putskde.” Colt sits up, pointing at me.

He got me there.

I grunt in reply.

“Speaking of, how are we gonna get back upstairs?”

“Through the door, and up the elevator? What’re you talking about?”

“No- ‘through ne noor!’ Obviously, dipshit, but clearly security’s been tipped about someone making noise out here. Won’t they get suspicious?”

“They’re gonna see that it was a building resident, and someone who looks a lot like him hanging out in the park, coming in for the night. It’s not a max security prison, Colt, I pay good money for the privilege of wandering around whenever I like.” I say, hoisting myself up with the painted metal bar as a support beam.

“You’re sure they won’t care?”

“Dude, where do they keep you between shoots, Alcatraz? No, they won’t give a shit.” I reach a hand down to Colt, and he takes it, yanking himself up with a grunt.

We both fall silent for a moment, before Colt sighs, looking over the edge of the playscape rail.

“Think I could land that jump?”

“Colton.”

“Yes or no.”

“No nets, no cushions, no harnass…”

“You don’t think I can?”

“You’ll land it. Gravity will make damn sure of that. I can’t promise what condition you’ll be in when you get there.”

Colt hops up onto the railing with surprising ease.

“COLT. Get the fuck down, you psycho- DUDE!!” My heart falls just as quickly as he jumps.

He freefalls down the six-ish foot drop, tucking and rolling on impact with the rubber floor. He stands up, turning around to look back at me.

“Parkour!”

“I’m gonna throw up. Don’t ever do that again.”

“Your turn!”

“Oh youre outta your mind.”

“C’mooon it’s not that far!”

“No, I think I’m gonna use the ladder that the park engineers so graciously provided, thanks.”

I swing myself around, descending the ladder, and hopping down onto the ground.

“Lame.”

“Safe.”

“No, you’re lame.”

“Well, I’ve broken significantly fewer bones than you have being lame, so I’m comfortable with that.” I pick up my tape measure on my way around to Colt.

“High risk, high reward.”

“What exactly is the reward of you risking your life doing reckless, clearly dangerous stunts, besides just saying you did them?”

“It looks cool, and it gets me work. And, if I break something, and show up to work in a cast, all the girls feel super bad for me and dote on me the whole time.”

“Wow. Compelling.”

“It is if you like girls… it anyone for that matter…”

“Yeah. Wrong guy.” I chuckle.

He throws an arm around my shoulders as we walk back to the building, thankfully opting to use the gate this time.

“Feel better after taking a break?”

I think for a moment. “Yeah, I do… I feel kinda behind on work though.”

“Ryland, I guarantee no one else has touched their work yet, if you’ve got two whole weeks to do it. You’ll be fine.”

I sigh. “I guess.”

“And even a rush job from you would be better than a week’s worth of work from anyone else.”

“You think I’m smart, huh?”

“Annoyingly so. Excruciatingly so.” Colt chuckles, jabbing me in the rib to drive the point home. I snort, leaning away.

“Okahahay! Okay… thank you, Colt.”

“Anytime.”

I step forward to enter the building code into the keypad, unlocking the door with a click, and holding it open for Colt.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

“Can I stay over? Please please please please?”

I groan. “It’s like midnight, Colton…”

“Please?! I haven’t seen you in like a year!”

“Three weeks…”

“I’m in twin withdrawals…” Colt sighs, leaning his weight over me.

“Oh my god.”

“I’ll buy breakfast tomorrow! Please?! Wherever you want!”

“…Fine, Fine. Yes.fold the couch out.” I deadpan.

“YES!”

“shhh!”

Caine fiddled with his hands nervously as he paced back and forth across the stage. The soft tip-tap of his boots echoed gently into the quiet arena.

It was strange how naturally walking had come to him. He had relied on floatation for so long, he worried that standing on his own two feet would feel foreign and awkward. The truth was, it actually gave him a much more grounding soothing technique. He could focus his attention on the smooth, hard floor beneath his shoes rather than his roaring freight train of thought. It took selective attention for him to place one foot in front of the other in time to catch himself from falling forward; it was just another task, he enjoyed those. That attention to balance and coordination made a surprising difference in keeping his mind off of- well, anything that felt too overwhelming.

His friends had been helping him learn to verbalize his emotions and identify them with descriptors rather than putting them aside. It wasn't easy. In fact, Caine really tried not to complain too much, but it was incredibly frustrating to hold onto an unpleasant feeling for that long. It was so much easier when he locked away his troublesome thoughts into a little box and hid it away, metaphorically and literally. To admit to feeling sad or angry or hurt, in front of an audience no less, was unbelievably terrifying. But his friends were patient, and gave him space and time and lots of assurances. Zooble especially was sympathetic to his struggles. Apparently, they had gone through similar issues when talking about their own emotions. They had to learn through years of experience and figuring it out on their own to speak your mind in spite of the fear. Being vulnerable with others is hard, but taking the leap and trusting others will catch you yields its own rewards. Caine can attest to that.

Despite the progress he had been making in being honest with the others about how he felt, old habits die hard (that was a human phrase Kinger had taught him). The nervousness building up under his digital skin made it hard to stand still, and he found himself returning to his old self-soothing rituals, like playing with his hands or clenching his teeth, or even building new ones like pacing.

It was his idea to get into the habit of walking. The others insisted it wasn't necessary, but Caine disagreed. It didn't feel quite right anymore to be constantly looking down at them from above. If he was going to be given another chance, he needed to come to them on their level and live as they did. (The first few days of walking really put into perspective how he must have looked from down here on the floor. No wonder they felt intimidated by him all the time.) He still floated from time-to-time, if the distance was too great, but only at a short height.

Caine's head snapped up at the approaching clatter of steps.

He had told the others to meet him on the stage whenever they felt ready. There was something he wanted to offer them.

That prospect alone would have brought curious smiles to their faces, were it not for Caine's anxiety-ridden body language. While everyone had been coaching him on how to verbalize his thoughts and feelings, it was made pretty obvious anyway how he was feeling because of the animatedness of his expressions. They had no idea what Caine had in store for them.

Caine himself wasn't sure how this conversation was going to play out, but he hoped it would help further build a bridge between them.

Okay, no need to be nervous, he told himself. They've started to trust you again, and this will help with that even more.

One by one, the players ascended the steps and crossed the stage to where Caine stood, cautious but friendly smiles on their faces.

"Hey, Caine," Ragatha greeted. "You wanted to see us?"

"I did, yes." Caine straightened. He took a deep breath.

"I wanted to talk about my... outburst. Toying with you all in a fit of anger. I knew what I was doing was wrong, and I knew... I felt how afraid I made you. I can't undo the damage I did, the hurt I caused, but I've been thinking... the least I can do is give you a chance to return that pain."

The group stirred, glancing at each other in confusion.

Caine continued. "You all now have the power to conjure and bend reality into what you make of it. I think- I hope that it might be cathartic for you to... do unto me what I did unto you. I won't hold it against you. It's only fair."

He paused, eyes training on the floor nervously. "What do you think?"

What did they think? They hadn't expected good news when they came to the stage, but they weren't expecting... that. They could see the logic in the gesture, how one might think that a balancing out of the scales would help heal some of those wounds, but it didn't. They all knew it by looking at each other's faces. They were in agreement. More agony wouldn't rebuild that trust.

Zooble spoke up. "Caine, we appreciate what you're giving us, but we won't accept it."

"It was scary when you lashed out at us" Ragatha said.

"But you've done a lot to try and fix it" said Pomni.

"We want to be your friend," Gangle sniffled, "and we don't want to hurt you. It wouldn't feel right at all."

Kinger, adorned with his bucket-hat, which he had brought along in case this was a serious conversation he needed to be present for, spoke up as well. "No one else should get hurt. That's the power we want to have over this world."

Caine stuttered. "But- I did- I did terrible- egh- but it's not fair. Please, I- wouldn't it help at all? You have the opportunity to do anything- literally anything to me. I think you should use it. I want you to use it."

It was true. Caine still felt terrible about how he behaved. This seemed the most beneficial solution, and he really wanted them to have it.

Again, the gang looked at each other, sharing conversations with eye contact alone.

Ragatha smiled gently at her friends.

"Okay, Caine. We'll accept your offer."

Caine looked up hopefully.

The others' faces filled with shock.

"I don't think this is such a good-" Pomni started to object, but cut herself off as Ragatha looked to her and winked.

Pomni calmed herself.

Ragatha looked between them. "I think we all know of something to do to you that would help us all feel better. A torture that only the best" she emphasized, "of friends know."

Kinger watched Ragatha, searching for whatever hint she was trying to give. He found it. "I think I know too. Let's do it."

Pomni, Zooble, and Gangle blinked, clearly still lost. Until Kinger wiggled his fingers where they rested at his side.

Zooble's eyebrows shot up.

Gangle's eyes widened.

Pomni smirked.

Caine readied himself, standing tall with arms out wide, leaving himself completely open to their retribution. "I'm ready when you are" he said bravely.

Moving synchronously like they were one being, the group surrounded him.

Caine prepared himself for hits, punches, pulls, pushes, tears, and rips.

He did not prepare himself for the faint tickling sensation under his arm.

He choked on his own giggle, turning to where the touch had come from. But before he could say anything, another came from behind, this time at his side. He felt his innards tremble with a small laugh.

What were they doing? He didn't understand. Were they playing with him?

He stumbled backward, breaking the circle around him. "Wh-What are you doing? You're sup- you're supposed to hurt me! You're supposed to be angry! I was being serious, I really hurt you guys! I don't deserve to go on like it didn't..." His voice started to tremble, eyes growing wet.

Immediately it was clear to the others that now was not the time to keep going. They looked at each other worriedly at how quickly the tone had changed. This needed a different approach.

Kinger walked up to his creation. "Caine... no one is going to hurt you. Not now, not ever. We're not going to punish you for not understanding, so please don't punish yourself."

Caine felt someone take his hand.

"I forgive you" Pomni said. "I forgive you, okay? It's gonna take work, but we're gonna make this better. Together."

"We can't change what happened," Zooble added, "but we can try again. That's what you've been doing, right? Trying again, for us?"

Caine looked down in shame. "I..."

"Just be here..." Pomni blurted, eyes deepening imploringly, "... with us. Can we just do that, please? Just- be here."

Keep trying. Be here.

That, Caine could do. That he could do.

"Okay" he relented.

Zooble's voice caught Caine's attention. "Now about that revenge..."

Caine's pupils constricted. "But- you- I thought we-"

"Oh yeah, he could definitely use some payback right now" Ragatha agreed.

Caine's teeth turned up, like a smile only he could wear. "Come on guys, you don't have to do this." He pleaded, arms outstretched in front of him, with no real fear in his voice.

Pomni raised her hands and wiggled her fingers in front of her. "We're gonna make you so sorry you ever met us" she threatened dramatically.

Caine turned to make a break for it, but was caught by Zooble, who was standing ready and waiting right behind him. In their trap of a hold, their claw and hand started to pinch and squeeze his sides.

Laughter began to bubble up out of him, and it tickled him from the inside out.

The sound of it was downright shocking to the others. It was warm and bubbly, bright and melodic and real, as human as an AI could get. It was precious.

And now the game had really begun.

Gangle stepped forward and fluttered her ribbon-hands around his shoulders, where a neck would normally be. He shrugged his shoulders up as high as he could with a sweet squeal. Her ghostly whispers of touch sprouted goosebumps all down his back.

"Nohoho... nohoho tickling!" He giggled.

"This is what you get for being a pain in the ass, just laugh it up" Zooble said smugly.

"This wahahas supp-pposed to be pahainful!" He laughed. This was so ridiculous. What on earth was he doing here getting the wits tickled out of him by a bunch of humans? And why was this exactly what he needed?

Kinger chuckled fondly at the scene in front of him. How he wished they had reached this point sooner. So many years were wasted fearing him.

He wondered then how Caine being able to react to touch was even possible in the first place. He certainly hadn't programmed that in.

Oh well. It's not like it mattered to Caine at the moment, who was now snickering and shaking his head at the finger tickling under his chin.

"No?" Ragatha teased, cooing as though Caine were a labradoodle. "You don't want me to scratch right here? Is it too tickly for you? Can you not take it?"

This was so embarrassing, and yes he could absolutely take it! He wasn't some delicate little child!

Caine glared up at Ragatha. "Of course I can!"

"Great! I'll just keep going then!"

Aw nuts. Probably should have kept his mouth shut.

Ragatha laughed at the ringmaster's plight, watching him twist and titter himself silly. She then noticed that it was getting difficult for Zooble and Gangle to tickle him the more he balled up.

"Here, get his arms" she suggested. She loved the way Zooble's eyes narrowed with mischief just as Caine's widened with terror.

As Zooble struggled to wrestle Caine's wrists into their claw-hands, Ragatha reached out to grab one of Caine's kicking feet. The moment she got a good grip on his ankle, he let out what could only be described as a shrill, huffy, screech, as though he were startled mid-giggle. The last coherent thought he had was how odd he found it that just clutching his ankle tickled so much. She hadn't even touched the bottom of his boot (which he knew vaguely was a very very bad spot on most humans). Whatever struggling he had been doing before was now exponentially more frantic as his laughter skyrocketed. The powerful volume reminded them all of his usual robotic laugh, but that was where the similarities ended. It was high and breathy, a desperate, whining sound. It began to spasm with chaotic rhythm, like his digital diaphragm was shuddering. It consumed him. His chest expanded with air like a balloon. His belly ached. His head filled with cotton, taking up too much space for there to be any thoughts left in there. His arms had become floppy, giving Zooble the chance to grab them and hold them over his head, but he didn't care. He didn't even notice.

And he couldn't stop laughing. Not even if his life depended on it. And there was something else.

Something pervasive and spreading and dizzying.

Something warm and fuzzy and tickly all in its own way.

He gasped it in with every inhale he took and puffed it back out with every laugh expelled from him.

Relief.

Pure, unencumbered, relief.

They loved him. They must have. Why else would they be blessing him with such a moment? It lit up their torturous fingertips tickling up and down his body, and shined through their great big smiles, and twinkled in their eyes gazing down at him like someone who belonged.

They loved him, and they forgave him.

Had he earned that? He doubted he'd ever know for sure.

But they all seemed sure enough, and that was what made this all so nice.

If he hadn't been laughing, he'd have been crying tears of happiness. He was grateful, then, that they were tickling him, because the laughter was a much less mortifying reaction to have then the crying.

Through all of this, his friends were too busy grinning to let their jaws drop to the floor. He was laughing. Really laughing. They doubted he'd ever laughed this hard before. Maybe it was time they changed that.

They didn't want to suffocate the poor guy, though, so Ragatha released her grip on his ankle.

It was as if she did nothing at all. Caine was still laughing like a crazy person. Gangle and Zooble paused their tickling as well to give him some room to catch his breath.

A couple minutes later and he seemed to have steadied himself.

Pomni made a move to suggest they call it a day when Caine raised his head blearily.

"Are... are we done?" He panted, sounding more than a little disappointed. He wouldn't ask them to keep going if they didn't want to, but he found himself waiting with bated breath for a very specific answer.

Ragatha knew that look, and she knew Kinger did too from their time in the Losers Corner.

It seemed Pomni had picked up on it too, because before anyone could reply, she parked two fingers at the top of Caine's ribs. The delicate touch made him gasp involuntarily.

"Not quite" Pomni smiled with faux darkness. She carefully raked her fingertips down the length of his sides and then started over at the top again.

The feeling wasn't quite as intense as it had been before, to Caine's relief, but it still kept those shamefully high squeaks flying out of his mouth.

"So, Caine" Pomni started. "Which one of us in the Circus is your favorite, huh? It's gotta be me, right?"

Caine may have still been in a state of delirium, but he had enough good sense to know he should not answer that.

But Pomni hadn't stopped dancing her fingers over his sides, and the constancy of it kept him dancing around on the floor.

"Now hold on just a minute" Ragatha said indignantly, having caught on to Pomni's new little game of antagonizing Caine. "I think he likes me the best, isn't that right, Caine?" As she said this, her plush hands gently swatted Pomni's away, not to end the tickly madness, but to contribute her own methods, as she took a finger on each hand and sharply jabbed into the center of Caine's belly.

The laughter took on a more manic quality, as each merciless poke sent another ticklish shock to his body, startling yelps out of him.

"You're all wrong" Zooble cut in from above, still holding Caine's wrists in one claw. "Me and him are super close, I'm obviously the favorite."

Ragatha paused her poking to give Zooble the floor.

Caine readied himself for what was surely another new kind of ticklish torture, but after a few long moments, he felt nothing. He dared to look up at Zooble and felt his stomach drop.

The others were watching Zooble closely as well, with some eyebrows jumping up in surprise.

How could they not? Zooble had just changed the game.

With dawning horror, Caine watched as Zooble conjured from nothingness a long, white feather. It looked unimaginably soft; it even had tiny fibers along the bigger fibers.

Zooble took this beautiful feather, and proceeded to twirl it quick and graceful into the exposed center of Caine's armpit.

The reaction was instantaneous, and loud. Caine's laughter was nothing but short, shrieking cackles for a couple seconds, until it descended into robotic static. This was too much. He was having fun, but this was just too much. Even for what was supposed to be torturous justice.

"STAHAAP!" He shouted, almost involuntarily. He didn't really expect them to stop. What kind of punishment would this be if he wasn't made to suffer? He had done far worse to them; this is what he deserved.

The feather stopped immediately, mere moments after getting his plea out, and his hands were released. Caine took this reprieve gratefully, rubbing his underarms to override the lingering tickles.

Appreciative though he was, he was also very confused. What had they stopped for? He thought the point of this was for them to do this to him.

He looked around him to find everyone had backed up slightly, probably to give him air, watching him with worry painted all over their faces.

"You okay?" Pomni checked gently.

He was surprisingly fine actually. He wasn't even out of breath anymore. It had tickled really badly for a few moments, but it ended before it got really bad. But why? Why had they listened to him?

Zooble couldn't seem to look at him, eyes darting to various parts of the floor. "I knew I shouldn't have conjured the feather" they said guiltily. "I'm sorry Caine for pushing too hard."

Caine didn't like how sadness looked on Zooble and he wanted more than anything right now to ease their worries. "The feather was kind of nice actually, it was just that one spot- Wait hang on, I don't understand. Why'd you stop when I asked you to? I thought this was supposed to be torture." (Everyone but Caine was stunned a little at such a straightforward admission of enjoyment, even if they could already kind of tell).

Ragatha looked at him like he had grown a second head. "Not... actual torture. It's just for fun, and it's never fun if you're uncomfortable."

Zooble leaned forward to get Caine's attention. "Your body needs to be respected no matter what; the control is in your hands, always."

Kinger agreed. "And that goes for all of us. Even you."

He wasn't completely clueless and unaware, he understood bodily consent and how important it was. He just didn't think such protections applied to him as well. It made him feel... safe.

"Thank you" he said.

"Bare minimum" Zooble replied.

"So," Ragatha said. "That enough penance for you?"

Caine brought a finger to his teeth, thinking it over. He hadn't expected to suddenly feel shy of all things.

"I... wouldn't mind if- if you wanted to keep going. You know- if you wanted to, I wouldn't mind at all." He stammered.

Caine might as well have written "please keep tickling me" on his forehead. He had no semblance of a poker face whatsoever, which Pomni and the others found adorable.

Pomni, feeling evil, asked, "But do yooouuu want to?"

Slapping his hands over his eyes, Caine grumbled, "Ugghhh yes."

Kinger chuckled, endeared by this pure being who had only ever wanted to love and be loved. "Wonderful, because... we never actually figured out which of us is your favorite."

Ragatha knew firsthand that when Kinger's tickle monster persona came out, you were in for a good laugh. She snickered in anticipation to watch this go down.

Pomni pointed a finger at Caine. "And no armpits?"

He nodded. "No armpits."

"Got it."

Caine practically lit up with giddy joy and readied himself to be once again enveloped by his friends' affection.

Before the fun restarted, he thought to himself only one thing.

How glad he was to have come home.

---

“Rocky, what’s the word on the breeder tanks and specimen enclosures?”

“Tanks and enclosures sealed, statement!”

Rocky chirps back at me.

“Lights and climate controls stable too?” I shoot back, chewing idly on my pen as I mull over the checklist in my hand.

“Yes yes, all systems stable.”

“Good, that’s what we like to see.” I nod, adding a checkmark on the list.

“Simon, how’re the lights in the main hall? Any flickering, buzzing, or dimming?” I turn, calling down the tunnel hallway to Simon, who stood by the wall, scanning the breaker box.

“Looks good to me. Nothing abnormal.”

“Perfect. Thank you gentlemen, that’ll do it for the baseline system check!” I nod with a smile, happily completing the bi-weekly systems check in with a resounding “all good”.

“You two can feel free to scatter, I’m going to the cockpit to check nav, the smart computer, and life support.” I tucked the clipboard under my arm, nodding up towards the control room.

“Good good. Rocky go finish repairs on Simon fake arm.”

“Ah, so that why he’s missing his prosthetic?” I ask, eyeing the empty sleeve on Simon’s left.

“Yes yes. Need repair.”

“What the heck happened to it? You’ve only had it a couple weeks.”

“I didn’t break it, stop looking at me like o slammed it into a wall or something.”

“We had to lock you in the dorm for three days because you almost slammed me into a wall barely a week into you being awake here. Sue me for assuming you bashed it into something.”

“You can’t use that against me, that was a panic response.”

“To what?! Don’t pull that card on me, I didn’t do anything to you!”

“You were trying to inject me with something!”

“Painkillers! Because your arm was torn off!”

“Whatever! You didn’t warn me!”

“I thought you were asleep! Doctors don’t typically say 3 2 1 go when they’re giving a shot to a comatose patient.”

“You are not a doctor.”

“I have a doctorate!”

“In like, particles or something!”

“Molecular biology!”

“Same thing!”

“Wrong! Stop arguing with me! What happened to your brand new arm?!” I bark.

“Si mon no break arm. Faulty sensors make joints lock up too tight. Uncomfortable and inefficient. Rocky fix error.”

Rocky chimes in, his tone a little snippy. Clearly he’s sick of our shouting.

“See? Not my fault. Rocky’s on my side.” Simon flashes me a smile.

“Whatever. It was a safe enough bet blaming it on you.” I mutter rolling my eyes

“Stupid fox.”

“You annoy me. Greatly.”

Simon chuckles, and Rocky chirps along with him. I have no allies.

“I’m going upstairs.” I knew I lost the argument, but I’d rather fly into Adrian again than admit that, out loud.

-

Nav system looks good… still got a long ride yet to Erid… should probably figure out orbital specs before too long….

I mutter to myself, surfing through the displays on the wall of the cockpit.

Hmmm… astrophage numbers look good… water recycling looks stable… no airlock breach, food’s good, Armando’s good…

I nod to myself, sitting back in the seat with my clipboard.

“Pilot Detected.”

The idle displays all around me blink to life, but it no longer startled me like it had over a year ago.

“Yes Mary, thank you.” I mutter, scribbling on my checklist.

“Hey.”

I turn in my seat as Simon’s head pops up from the hatch.

“Yeeees? Can I help you?” I ask, twirling my pen in my hand.

“No, I’m just here to grab my notebook, I think I left it by the window.” Simon says, hoisting himself up rather impressively with his one and one a quarter arms.

“Oh? Yeah, your diary? Read the whole thing, cover to cover. It’s in the copilot chair- here.” I chuckle.

“Bullshit. It’s not a diary.”

“‘I love Ryland aoooo much, he’s the coolest, nicest, and smartest guy I’ve ever met.’ I think that was page nine?”

“Hilarious. It’s just an Astronomy notebook.”

“‘And he’s such a good teacher, and I love listening to him explain science to me!’ Page 15.”

“You’re full of shit.” Simon grumbles.

“Whatever you say. Here.”

I reach over, picking up the book and lifting it in Simon’s direction, while still keeping most of my attention on the pilot display, scrolling over to ‘Life Support’.

“Thanks.” The notebook slides free from my hand, and I drop it down with a hum and a nod.

“How much longer are you gonna be up here?” Simon asks, craning bis neck to see what I’m doing.

“Why, do you miss my company? Is that what you came to get your diary for?”

“No, I just wanna know how much more peace and quiet time I have left.”

I chuckle, rolling my eyes.

“Almost done, unfortunately. Just checking life support and I’ll be done.”

“…Life Support?”

“Yeah- water recycling, climate control, oxygen. Y’know - crucial stuff.” I shrug, scrolling along the wide yellow and black display.

Simon says nothing in reply.

“You’re wasting your precious quiet time sitting up here talking to me. I’ll be done and down in just a couple minutes al…right..? Simon?”

I turn in my chair, and Simon is just standing there, lost in the eyes, and blank in the face.

“Simon?” I lower my voice, brows furrowed.

“Yeah, yes- yes?”

“You okay? You lost signal there for a second-“

“H-how’s our oxygen.” He asks suddenly.

I blink a couple times, turning from the screen, back to Simon.

“It’s- fine..? Our oxygen is fine. We’re breathing right now, which is a pretty good sign.”

“How long until Erid?”

“A long while still- over a year and a half. We found you two years and some change into the ride.”

Simon nods slowly.

He had a fantastic poker face. One I had never seen before. If something was bothering him, no one would know until he was at the tipping point. That said, a dead giveaway of Simon’s stress could be found just about anywhere but his face.

Clenched fists, tight shoulders, a bouncing leg, if he was sitting down, and the most obvious…

Crack

He cracked his knuckles when he had stress he needed to release.

Crack crack

“What’s wrong?” I lift a brow at him.

“Nothing.”

“Lying.”

“Not lying.”

“Hand and shoulders, Simon, you’re rigid as a board, and you’re cracking your knuckles - what’s going on?”

“Just- nerve pain. I’ll be fine.”

Lying. Straight through his giant sharp teeth. Pretty solid lie, I’ll give him that. He does still get surges of pain from his injuries and mutations every once in a while, but that’s not what he looks like stricken with sudden pain.

I’ll let him have it, though.

“…Okay.” I say calmly.

I treat Simon the same way I do my students when they’d lie to me to get out of something.

If you meet them with the attention and worry they’re after, they’ll walk all over you for the rest of the school year. You don’t just get headaches and stomach aches every testing period, that’s not how that works….

If you acknowledge the issue, and offer concrete solutions, like “okay, go to the nurse, and bring me back a note when she checks you over.” Or “alright, I can call your mother and have her come get you.” They’re less likely to pull the stunt in the future.

“Well… go take some medicine and have Armando check you out. Make sure it’s nothing with your jaw or your arm.” I instruct, nodding slowly.

Simon nods back, still a bit stiff in the shoulders. What set him off..?

Whatever the case, he made his way back to the ladder, and descended.

-

I gave it about ten minutes. Before I idled the system displays again, I took one more glance at life support.

From the menu, I could access Armando’s care logs - a painstakingly detailed, chronological summary of every procedure, checkup, medicine and food distribution, and crew chart update that had been recorded since the launch of the ship.

Upon clicking the ‘refresh’ button in the corner, the list of today’s logs appeared on the display.

Most recent log: my breakfast, five hours ago.

Simon didn’t take any medication, or visit the medbay like I told him to. So he was lying.

Then what was wrong?

-

“Grace come see!”

Rocky called out from the lab. I had barely gotten off the cockpit access ladder before he beckoned me over.

“One sec bud.” I jog down the hall to the lab. The air smells like copper wires and shouldering filament.

I enter the room, grabbing a pair of goggles and gloves from the wall. Can never be too safe.

“What’s up? How’re repairs going?”

“Good good! Rocky fix arm completely! No more glitch.”

He wiggled his carapace proudly, pressing the drawer of the airlock closed, and cycling it, passing the prosthetic to me.

I gently open the door, removing the arm, and quickly setting it down. Still hot… it felt like taking a hot pan out of the oven on 200°.

I hiss, shaking my hands as the prosthetic lands on the table.

“Stupid. Stupid Grace.”

“Whatever, I’ll be fine. Whats one more burn.” I shrug, pulling up a stool and sitting down at the lab table.

“Wow- it looks different now too- cleaner- did you update the exterior too?” I ask.

The xenonite on the exterior before was a bit more patchy. A lot of the inner workings were visible through gaps in the metal paneling. It was cool, a kind of steampunk style- definitely a little more prop than practical, as far as looks go.

Now, the arm was completely enclosed in solid, thin, flat xenonite panels, with the only gaps being where the elbow and wrists flexed. Long? Running, linear patterns stretched across the upper arm and forearm, resembling some of Rocky’s tattoo engravings in his limbs.

“Yes, Rocky scrap and rebuild exterior. Simon complain of things getting stuck in old arm. Bad bad. Give Rocky chance to put engravings on new arm shells!”

“Oh! So these lines translate to something?”

“Yes yes yes, these here mean Simon name. No have last name so Rocky give Simon Grace last name.”

I freeze, looking up at Rocky.

“What?! Yes he does, his last name is Fisher!” I spat out.

“Not real. Simon say Fisher not last name. Just place holder. Simon no remember last name.”

“But it still works! Why my name?!”

“Grace and Simon share everything! Food, clothes, secrets-“

“Secrets?!”m what do you mean secrets?!”

“-Names-“

“We don’t share names. That’s not a thing.”

“Yes is thing! Grace say humans share names when married!”

I raise my hand, palm facing me. “Do you see or hear a ring?! No! We aren’t married!”

Rocky hums.

“I’m telling him that means Fisher.”

“Rocky teaching Simon Eridian language. He will know.”

“Whatever- what else have you done with the prosthetic?” I sigh.

“Updated electric muscle signal sensitivity. Easier to flex, grip, and release without strain.”

I nod, “good, good. That was the issue to begin with, right?”

“Yes, faulty signal strength. Very glitch. Is ready for Simon now!”

The metal had cooled significantly by now, making it safe and comfortable to pick up, about the temperature of a hot restaurant plate. I lifted it - surprisingly easily, I expected heavier.

“Is the install process still the same?” I ask, bending the fingers on the hand experimentally.

“Yes. Straps attach to collar mount, shoulder support attach to straps, secure under arm. Prosthetic fastener attach snug to Simon arm, snap all connectors into place.”

That’s a lot of words…

“Got it.”

“Good good!!”

I’ve only ever been standing around while Simon’s prosthetic was being installed… hope I got it…

-

“Simon!” I call out, standing in the hallway like an impatient parent, fists on my hips, with the strap of the prosthetic clutched in my left.

I’d looked all over the ship for him, but I couldn’t find him.

Granted, when I say “looked” I mean I briefly glanced around Simon’s usual haunts - the lab, the UV grow room, the dorm, and his area near the window.

Nothing.

If it were Amy other day I wouldn’t be all that worried, but he’d been acting a little strange earlier, and prosthetic aside, I really just wanted to put eyes on him.

“Hey, Simon! Where are ya, bud?!” There was evident exasperation in my voice, I could hear it.

Creeak

Hey, so what was that…?

Creeeak

The sound is coming from the observation window, but I was about 80% sure I hadn’t seen him-

“Simon?!”

There…

“Simon did you not hear me calling you for the last 10 minutes-? Better yet, how do I miss you?!”

I throw my hands up with mild frustration, walking over to the suspended bed.

The xenonite chains that were supporting the bed platform in the air must have been responsible for the creaking I heard. They’re attached to a pulley, so that we can retract and secure the platform against the ceiling if we need to disengage the centrifuge.

Simon shrugs, and…

He signals to me with one hand, the hand sign for “glasses”.

I furrow my brows.

“Glasses?”

“Glasses off. Missed me.”

He signs again.

I reach up to my face, and notice immediately, the absence of my glasses. Lifting my hand a little higher, I feel them perched up on my head. Right… that explains it.

I bring my glasses down to my nose, blinking a few times, bringing everything into focus. That answers one question, but now I have another.

Why are we signing?

“Thank you… for that, I guess that is how I missed you.” I step up to the platform, crossing my arms on the bed.

“Is there a reason why you’re not talking right now? You alright?” I lower my voice.

Simon periodically went through spells of silence. Sometimes only for an hour or so, sometimes over a day. It was his brain’s way of handling all the stress swimming around in his head when it occasionally bubbles to the surface.

At the beginning it was pretty difficult to help him, communicate with him, or figure out what was wrong when he couldn’t speak to me.

We tried a few different solutions…

Writing was a little challenging- in all honesty his handwriting was pretty bad, and paper isn’t exactly a renewable resource out in the great beyond.

Rocky and I made him an augmentative, alternative communication device with some brutally subpar programming on my part. He uses it occasionally, but admittedly it’s pretty clunky, cumbersome to carry, and could do with an upgrade.

The best solution we’ve found, is sign language. I’m pretty proficient at it, as an educator, so we spent some time learning the basics, and Simon picked up quick. We can carry pretty seamless conversations in ASL now, whenever need be.

“Don’t want to speak.”

“Okay, sure… you don’t want to speak, verbally? Or you don’t want to speak to me specifically right now?”

“Verbally.”

“Gotcha… uhm…”

He doesn’t offer me anything more, just looking down at me, sitting crisscross on the bed above me.

“Well, how about I at least hook up your new arm, and maybe you can fill me in on what’s going on once you have both hands to chat with, hm?” I push the metal arm towards Simon with a smile on my face.

He looks down at it, then to me, and nods.

“Perfect. Can I come up?”

He nods again.

I hoist myself up onto the platform, taking a seat on my knees next to Simon.

“Ok, shirt off, please.” I make a motion for him to remove the t-shirt that used to be mine.

He slid it off without a word or hesitation, sitting straight. He knows the drill.

“Thank you sir… arm up.”

He lifts the torn arm out straight to the side. I pull a fabric slip from my pocket, tugging it over the stump like a sock. Once it’s snug to Simon’s arm, I pick up the prosthetic, and sigh, trying to remember the order of operations

Simon looks down too. He reaches over, tapping the straps that attached to the top of the prosthetic, then reaches up and tapped on the collar mount that was already around his neck.

Right!

“Yes! Thank you, collar to steaps, straps to mount, mount to prosthetic. I remember, thank you.”

I get to work, snapping and twisting and clicking and tightening, until the prosthetic was snugly in place, and sending and receiving signal as it should be.

All the while, Simon stayed silent. No quips, no complaining, nothing.

“Oookay, you should be all set. Can you spell you name out?”

“S-I-M-O-N” the mechanical hand whirs as he makes his way through the five letters.

“Perfect! So, now that you’ve got both hands, you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

I sit back and little, giving Simon some space.

He thinks for a moment, before raising his hands.

“Not speaking.”

“Gathered that much. I was hoping more for a why.”

“Conserve oxygen.”

I raise a brow. What? Oxygen..?

“Conserving oxygen…” re helpers, nodding as he signs.

“You check oxygen earlier today. Don’t want to waste oxygen. Not speaking, less intake.”

Okay…

“I- I’m confused.”

Snap!

We both jump as one of the straps on the prosthetic support comes undone.

“Crap-! Ugh, darn thing. Hold on, let me fix it…”

I scoot back over, and tend to the undone strap, fastening it back into place with a little more care than before, tightening it as best I can, bracing my hand against Simon’s chest… wait…

I pause for a moment, moving my hand down to the center-left of his chest. His breathing was shallow, and his heart rate was low… way lower than it should be.

“Simon, why are you breathing like that?” I ask, urgently.

He lifts his hands again, and gets halfway though the sign for “conserve” before I stop him.

“If you say ‘conserve oxygen’ again, I’m gonna freak out. What do you mean?! Why are you worried about our oxygen?!”

“You checked oxygen earlier. Limited supply, yes?” He signed back just as urgently.

“Whahat?! No! No, I- you misunderstood-“

“How not limited? Ship is made of three cylinders. One for fuel, one for us, one for oxygen, yes!”

“No, Simon no, three for fuel, one for us in the center, that extends outward.” I explain.

His eyes widen.

“Where oxygen stored?? How much?? Why are you talking so much?? Low oxygen.”

I shake my head.

“No no no, no. Simon, stop for a second.”

“Three breathing organisms on a ship with limited oxygen.”

“Stop. No, just listen.”

“No oxygen tanks in-“

“Quiet coyote. Can you please show me two quiet coyotes?” I sigh, raising my hands with index and pinky fingers raised.

“Patronizing.”

“No, I’m not, I just need you to listen and focus, c’mon. Humor me.”

Simon relents, and mirrors my hands with a deadpan stare.

“Thank you. What I was trying to say. Was that we don’t have limited oxygen tanks aboard the Hail Mary. The ship uses a recycling system that supplies us back with oxygen from the other gasses and water that we release in the cabin. It’s a cyclical system.”

“Then what were you che-“

“Hey, tell those coyotes to stop barking, I wasn’t done.”

“You paused.”

“I was taking a breath. Which is what I’m trying to convince you to do before you pass out. Now, as for what I was checking, I was just making sure that the recycling was in proper working order, which it is. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Simon looks at me a little bewildered.

“I promise! You’re nott in any danger of running out of air.” I take a deep breath in and out, just to prove my point. “See? No problem.”

Simon nods, looking down for a moment, losing himself in thought.

I wait patiently, in case he has something more to sign.

“I did not know that was possible.” He signs slowly

“Really?” I ask gently.

“I thought one-way vessels came with limited air. All the time.”

I hum, not looking away from Simon’s hands.

“I’m guessing the Iron Lung had limited supply…”

“Yes. I almost ran out.”

“Oh-“

“The hull breach got to me first though.”

I grimace.

“Right… I didn’t even think about that…. No wonder you got freaked out.”

“The air was really thin.”

“I bet.”

“Smelled like iron.”

“Yeah, so did you when we got you on board. But you got cleaned up, healed up, and here you are, right? Safe and sound.” I smile. “No blood, no thinning air, no creepy fish or whatever. Just a clean ship, a rock, and a teacher.”

“Yes, water.”

I tilt my head, a bit confused by the sign.

“Water?” What do you mean water.”

Simon meets me with the same confusion.

“T-H-A-N-K-S” he spells the word out instead.

“Oh! You meant ‘thank you.’ That’s this.”

I turn my palm toward my face, touching my fingertips to my mouth, and tilting my hand out as if I were blowing a kiss.

“This, what you did, means water.” I hold up three fingers, tilt my hand so my palm faces in to the side, and tap my index finger against my chin. “Close, though.”

Simon nods, mimicking the “thank you” motion.

“And you’re welcome. I hope that puts you at ease a little bit.”

He nods again.

“Still don’t feel like talking?”

“No.”

“Good enough. In your own time… will you at least take some deep breaths? You looked like you were gonna pass out earlier.”

“I am.”

“You aren’t. I can clearly see your chest barely moving, Simon.” I place a hand on his chest.

“Cold cold cold.” He signs rapidly, tensing up a little.

“Anemic, anemic, anemic, I’m aware. Breathe.”

“Panic. Go away.”

“You’re not panicking! Your heart rate is evening out, you’re not sweating, your eyes aren’t dilated. Don’t cry wolf.” I say, a little sternly.

“Coyote.”

“What? Oh- Stop. Breathe.” I can’t help but smile. “I’ll make you if I have to.”

He narrows his eyes at me with a challenging glare.

I roll my eyes, sighing. Fine, dramatics it is.

“EMERGENCY! EMERGENCY, CLEAR THE AREA!” I shout, sitting up suddenly, and shoving Simon down onto his back on the bed, being sure to not startle him too bad. He did ask for this, though.

“WE HAVE ONE, ADULT MALE, KINDA-HUMAN, UNREAPONSIVE, NOT BREATHING.”

Simon smiles, more out of shock than anything else, looking up at me like I’m fresh out of my mind.

“CHECKING FOR PULSE.” I make an obnoxious show of “looking for Simon’s pulse”, testing his wrist, putting a hand, then an ear to his chest, which I think got a little giggle out of him, then probing at the side of his neck with two fingers. I catch the pulse for just a moment before Simon shrugs up his shoulder and swats my hand away with a snort.

Now we’re cookin’.

“NO LULSE!”

“Yes there is.” He signs quickly.

I gasp, batting his hands away.

“HE’S CONVULSING!” I shout, voice a little raspy. I haven’t had to yell in quite a while.

“STARTING COMPRESSIONS. CLEAR THE AREA!” I chuckle, placing both hands on Simon’s chest, in the furthest thing from COR procedure placement, and begin gently pressing down on Simon’s chest, repeatedly.

Each “compression” forces a little bit of breath into Simon’s lungs, coupled with the quiet chuckles that squeezed their way through.

I pause, acting like I’m listening for signs of life.

“SIMON?!” I call out theatrically, reaching up to shake him by the shoulders.

Simon signs out “yes”, and I decide that isn’t good enough.

“STILL NOTHING! I’VE GOTTA DO MOUTH TO MOUTH!” Again, not protocol, but who cares.

I lean down, and Simon catches me by the cheek with his hand, pushing me back, the both of us snickering like idiots now.

“WE’RE LOSING TIHIME! HE’S NOT- HEHE’S NOT BREATHING!” I move my hands from Simon’s chest, sliding them under his arms, scratching gently.

Simon gasps, which I’m counting as a breath, and finally starts laughing like he means it.

“Oh- OH! HE LIVES!” I cheer, bringing a hand up to his stomach, and dragging my nails quickly over the tightened muscle.

“HE’S ALIVE!!”

Simon lets out a high pitched, sort of squeaky laugh, his chest rising and falling. Thank goodness.

“Now I’ve gotta check your vitals. You were out for quite a while! Thought I lost you!”

“No. Stupid. So dramatic.” He signs.

“We gotta crack that brain open too, because clearly you’re losing it. I’m not dramatic.” I scoff. “Okayyyyy, organs? Everything still in place?”

I bring both hands to Simon’s middle, kneading and pinching at the soft part of his stomach.

Simon snorts, shaking his head madly, and striking a fist against the bed. If this was his stubborn attempt to not laugh, boy was it cracking.

“Okay… Organs are where they should be… how about reflexes?”

I bring a hand down to Simon’s knee, giving an experimental squeeze just above the joint. He kicks his leg out, dropping it flat to the bed with a startled gasp.

“Wow! Reflexes on point! Other leg?” I repeat the motion, to the other leg, this time squeezing a little harder, latching on tight as his leg bucks under my grip.

“MMHMHAHAHA- OKAHAY!! EVERYTHING IS FINE!!” Simon shouts.

“Oh! Look at that we’re back online! I missed that voice!” I smile wide. “Doesn’t exempt you from a check up though, unfortunately. Bear with me!”

I snicker, sliding my hands up, and out to Summon’s ribs, I don’t move them.

“Grahahace.”

“Mhm?”

“Gehehet the fuck offa me.”

“That’s not nice, why must you swear at me?”

Simon lets out a sound that’s half groan, half chuckle.

“I just wanna make sure you’re breathing properly, that’s all!”

Simon glares at me, but it has no effect.

“Come on, biiiig deep breath in for me.” I coax gently.

To my surprise, he takes a hesitant breath, slowly taking in air. His ribs expanding into my hands.

“Good! Very good, hold it… aaaand… out!”

At the last word, I clawed my hands, and dug into Simon’s ribs suddenly.

“*snrk-!* A-AHAHAHA- SHIHIHIT!” Simon sputters, barking out laughter in shock, kicking his legs against the bed.

“Perfect, lungs are working!” I snicker, scribbling over Simon’s ribs, careful to avoid his gills.

“Just give me a couple more nice deep breaths and we’ll call it good.” I slow my hands, gently trailing them up and down Simon’s ribs.

“I- I cahahan’t breathe with you- touching me!”

“Well not with that attitude you can’t! I’m barely doing anything anyway.”

“You’re scrahahatching my gills, you fuckin’ ass!”

“Hey!” I hissed, jabbing my index fingers into the skin above Simon’s gills. He yelps, tensing like he’d just been electrocuted.

“You’re not gonna turn your voice back on just to curse at me in every other sentence.” I vibrate my fingers against Simon’s gills, a little rougher than I usually would.

“OKAHAHAY OKAY OKAY I’M SORRY IM SOHOHORRY, I WON’T ANYMORE-! GRACIE-!!”

“Promise?”

“YEHEHESS!!”

“And you’ll take some deep breaths for me?”

“AGH- YEHES!”

“And you promise to just ask me questions instead of working yourself up about things that you don’t need to panic about?” I speak unnecessarily slow, not letting up on Simon’s gills.

His back arched up off the mattress, teeth gritted, hands gripping my wrists.

“GRAHAHACE!! YEHEHES, ENOUGH!”

I chuckle, letting go.

“Okay! Okay. I’m done.”

Simon collapses down, gasping for breath.

“Slow down, breath in and hold it for a sec.” I say softly, placing a hand on his chest. He flinches, but doesn’t protest.

I feel his chest rise and expand, holding the air in for a moment.

“Good, good.. and… out.”

Simon lets the breath out. 

I nod, patting him gently on the chest.

Simon takes two more deep breaths before I’m satisfied, lifting my hand.

“How’dya feel?”

“Fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm… what?”

“That’s all? Just fine?”

“I mean- what more do you want me to say?”

“Well how do you feel now that you know you’re not slowly asphyxiating?” I shrug, scooting myself up beside Simon, lying down alongside him.

“Ah- well yeah, it’s nice to know. I just feel kinda stupid.”

“What? Why?”

“Why would we be running out of oxygen?? I mean, you told me you’ve been aboard this thing for years… there’s no way the ship would have tanks big enough for that much air…”

“Yeah but you didn’t know, that’s fine. Doesn’t make you stupid.” I shrug.

“Hmmmph.” Simon groans.

“I mean think about it- the only ship you’ve ever been on besides Mary was a flimsy rust bucket with hardly enough o then for a three hour trip. Of course you’d expect every other ship to have limited air supply.”

I shrug, turning to look at Simon.

“Assuming the worst and trying to prepare for it doesn’t make you stupid, Simon. It just means you’re-“

“Traumatized.”

“…yeah… not quite what I was gonna say, but yes.” I turn back to face the ceiling.

“But now you know, and there’s nothing to worry about.” I say, making a show of taking a deep breath.

Simon does the same, much to my delight.

“So…”

“Hm?” I reply softly.

“The air recycling system. It’s working properly?”

“Perfectly, yeah.”

Simon nods slowly. “Would you… mind… explaining how it works? I- I dunno, maybe understanding it would put me at ease.”

The stupidest, nerdiest, widest smile splits my face, and I sit up fast as a whp.

“You’re asking me to explain something to you?!”

“Oh dear lord- come on…”

“You’re asking me to explain science to you?!” I find myself tense from excitement, balled fists shaking in the air with unspent energy.

“Woah- okay.”

“What?!”

Nothing- just- you look stoked.”

“I am!”

“Gracie. It’s not that monumental of an event- you explain things to me all the time.”

“Yeah but you hate it!”

“What? No I don’t!”

“Wrong.”

“Correct! I may not know what the hell you’re talking about, but I don’t mind listening! Just- tell me about the air system? Before you implode, please?”

I nod, sliding to the end of the bed, and reaching back to grab Simon’s arm - his good arm - tugging him along.

He chuckles, following me off the bed.

“Okay, okay slow down- where are you dragging me?” Simon takes my wrist with his free, mechanical hand, and moves it down, so that our hands are connected.

He interlaces his fingers with mine, and my brain goes blank. Gosh, I’m lame..

“I- I uh… uhm to the uh…”

“Really? Holding hands broke you?” Simon chuckles, squeezing my hand gently.

“No…” I stand there for a moment, stiff, unsure of what to do next.

“Want me to let g-“

“NO. no- I mean, I don’t mind. Where was I going?”

Simon snorts. “To show me the air recycling system?”

“RIGHT! Yes! Okay, cockpit!” I start off, dragging Simon behind me.

“So, what do you know about zeolite filters?” I ask, looking back over my shoulder.

Simon chuckles, shrugging. “Absolutely nothing, Dr Grace.”

“You guys are babysitting? I didn’t know Eridians did that.” I look over at the two cuddling on the floor. Rocky has perched himself on top of Adrian, soaking in their heat.

“Obvious. Other Eridians get busy. Need help watching over pebbles.” Rocky clicks out. Two of his legs hang off the side of Adrian’s carapace and I notice they swing back and forth a bit.

“Well my bad.” I roll my eyes with a smile. “I would love to. I haven’t been given the chance to see baby Eridians yet.” I’ve only taught more adolescent Eridians in my class, not toddler and below age. I’m actually a little nervous at the thought.

“Grace must be gentle.” Adrian adds a bit sternly, shifting to stand. Rocky climbs off and stretches a bit, kinda like a cat.

I scoff “Of course I’ll be gentle! Who do you think I am?” I fake a shocked expression, hand over my chest.

“Grace is…clumsy.” Gee thanks. “Grace be more careful than usual.” Rocky adds as they both head towards the door.

“I promise to be more careful than usual.” I hold my right hand up like I’m giving an oath though I don’t think either one of them actually knows what that means.

I lean over the couch to watch them head out. Adrian lets out a low giggle. “Adrian Rocky be back soon with pebbles.”

They shut the door behind them as I slump back into the couch. I feel a bit giddy, my first time seeing little baby Eridians! I hope they’re as cute as I imagine them to be.

——————

Around an hour later I hear a very soft knock at the door.

“Coming!” I scramble over to let them in. As I open the door Rocky pushes himself in and then herds me out of the way.

“Grace move out of Adrian way.” He lightly taps at my shins. I stagger back a bit, trying not to step on Rocky in the process. Adrian walks in holding six little rocks in one arm, little sounds of random notes coming from them. They are all buzzing with life, little legs and claws moving and squirming about.

I let out a little coo as Adrian walked up in front of me, letting me get a good look, “They're so tiny! They look adorable!” They look like they would fit in the palm of my hand! A few are thick and stubby while others are thin. So thin it’s a little scary. I desperately want to reach out and touch them but decide not until I get an okay at the very least.

Adrian hums “Yes. They are.” They stop for a moment, letting me bask in their adorableness. “Pebbles will love you Grace.”

“Why me?” I smile a bit, leaning my face closer to the little babies in their arms. I see their claws reach up at me, their claws making grabbing motions.

“Grace is new. New sounds and new species. Grace is whole new experience.” They shift to move past me to settle on the floor in the house. “Also…Grace is cute and nice.” They add, making me a bit flustered. Me and Rocky quickly follow and Rocky curls up next to Adrian while I stand awkwardly. I’m not sure where I should sit.

Adrian makes a circle on the floor using their arms as a little fence to keep them in. They carefully lower the pebbles into the circle and they all immediately start moving. Adrian lifts a claw in my direction and I take it in my hand. They guide me back to the circle as Rocky shoos the little baby’s away from me so I can sit in the circle too. I lean my back against Adrian as I feel my excitement and anxiety rise.

”Pebbles not communicate well yet but still very curious. Can understand most of language.” Rocky explains but pauses “…Grace heart beat fast. Calm. You will do great.” He reassures as the pebbles make their way over to me. They are careful and cautious but their curiosity seems to be winning.

“O-okay…can I, um, touch them? Like, pet them?” I ask as they move closer and closer. Little legs scuttling in my direction.

“Of course.” Rocky takes my hand and places it out in front of me, low to the ground. It’s like if I were to meet a new dog for the first time. Letting them sniff my hand to make sure I’m not a threat. They seem to stop their advance towards me at the movement, keeping a distance.

“Aw! Hey little guys! My name is Grace—“

I suddenly realize I have absolutely no idea if they can understand me. Heat creeps up my cheeks as Adrian gently repeats what I said beside me. Right. Of course they can’t speak English.

Not my brightest moment.

I keep my hand as still as possible, hoping one comes up to me. I feel my anxiety rise even more as the thought of them hating or being scared of me crosses my mind.

I tense at a feeling on my head and I glance up. Adrian has started petting me softly, I think to calm my nerves but also to show the pebbles I mean no harm.

One brave pebble scuttle up and places a single claw on one of my fingers. It squeezes softly and chirps excitedly. God, there so cute!

That seems to be enough to convince the others and they all rush towards my hand. Little claws grab at my fingers, squishing and pulling. I giggle a bit, clenching my fingers ever so slightly. They seem to like it and they all let out little squeaks and trills.

I hear Rocky and Adrian giggle from somewhere above me.

“I think they like me!” I whisper excitedly grinning with a goofy smile. I carefully tip my hand over letting them explore. Tiny claws rub over my knuckles curiously, feeling the difference between my soft palm and the bonier top of my hand.

One pebble wanders past my wrist and grabs onto my pant leg. I tense instinctively, fighting the urge to pull away and accidentally shake them off.

Apparently, once again, one brave pebble is all the encouragement the others needed. They swarm my leg almost immediately. I let out a startled laugh as claws climb up my jeans and into my lap, forcing me to lean back against Adrian for support.

“See. Grace is natural.” Rocky teases a bit, chittering in my direction.

One pebble climbs up the front of my shirt, surprisingly quickly. It grabs at my collar and hoists itself on my shoulder, two arms grabbing my neck for support. I gasp slightly and the tickly feeling and hold as still as possible, my body going ridged.

“A-ah wahait! That tihickles!” I fight every bone in my body to not scrunch up my shoulders but my hands to fly up to grab at the air around my neck. I realize the other little ones go still. I carefully glance down and they are all sitting, like they are waiting. Then I suddenly feel the claws at my neck slowly trace and squeeze experimentally and I jump.

“Noho dohont doho thahat!” I giggle softly and a symphony of chirps and trills follow my laughter as the pebbles start moving again with vigor. They all start trying to climb up my shirt now.

Fudge.

“Adrain think they like Grace laugh.” Adrain chuckles out, still softly rubbing at my scalp. Little legs claw at my stomach as they try to reach the baby perched on my shoulder that is still clawing at my neck.

“AH—guys wahait!”

I squirm helplessly, unsure of what to even do with my hands. Instinctively I curl forward trying to protect my stomach while I laugh which is a huge mistake.

My shirt rides up in the process and the pebbles immediately notice the new exposed skin. Apparently they decide this is a much better route to my neck than climbing over my arms. Tiny claws hook into the fabric before several scuttle below.

“NANOHO NOhohot underNEHEATH—!”

I slowly slide down Adrian’s carapace, forcing my arms up and out. I don’t want to hurt them but I don’t know what else to do. They go still again for a moment and suddenly they're digging into the pudge on my stomach with purpose now, trying to force out loud laughter from me. I squeal as I feel Adrian let out a laugh against me.

“H-Hehelp meheHEHE ADRIAHAHAN! ROHOCKY!” I yelp, my arms slowly lowering back to my stomach against my will. I can’t help it, it’s their little legs, the way they vibrate with sound and excitement against my skin tickles more than I can handle.

“Adrain help Grace.” I silently thank them but I don’t hear Adrian or Rocky tell them to stop or even any action to grab at the little guys. Then I feel a large claw scoop up my hands and stretch me up and out against my will with my back half on the ground and half leaving against Adrian. The pebbles slow a bit at my sudden movement, balancing themselves.

“Adriahan w-whahat are yohou dohOHOING—NO WAhahAIT!” I hear happy trills from under my shirt as they dig in more. Some pinch, some claw, some vibrate, all experimenting to see what can bring the best noises from me. A few have travelled up towards my ribs, feelings round the bones with their legs while other push into my hip making me arch up with a squeak.

“Adrain make sure Grace not hurt pebbles on accident. Still let pebbles play and experience Grace.” The playful trill in their voice tells me I’m doomed. I tug helplessly against their grip but Adrian doesn’t budge.

I turn my head towards Rocky in a last desperate plea for mercy only to find him sitting comfortably beside us, cooing at my distress.

I feel my face burn bright red.

I squeeze my eyes shut trying to block out any tickly feelings. One pebble makes its way up to my collar and carefully starts tracing my clavicle making my chin shoot down to my chest with a squeak. I fidget at the new sensation as the other pebble still stationed on my shoulder traces the shell of my ear.

“This is human version of tickle.” I hear Rocky explain over my cackles. “Hunan touch sensitive. Have common ‘tickle spot’ but Grace very sensitive human. Tickle spot everywhere.” I feel the tips of my ears go red at Rocky’s very helpful commentary.

I’m about to say something dumb probably when a certain curious baby decides to explore my belly button. I shoot up as straight as I can, feeling a small claw reach in and scratch at sensitive skin hiding there.

“AHAHA—NAHOHOHO *SNRK* NAHAHAT THEHEHEHEREAHAH—!” I screech out and flail hard.

I’m actually worried the noise that ripped from my throat would scare the little pebbles but it only seemed to make them more determined. The other three little Eridians on my stomach and ribs immediately went to investigate this new very sensitive spot.

I kick my feet as I feel twenty little arms claw and trace at my bellybutton, making tears quickly well up in my eyes. I buck my hips up, I can’t help it anymore. My erratic movements do nothing to stop them.

“PEHEHEBBLES *SNRK* P-PLEHEHASE!” I beg, kinda forgetting they can’t understand me anyway. They trace around the sensitive spot, reaching in a poking making me laugh hard, my face hurts from the smile.

I squeal, “ROHOHCKYEHE PLEAHAHASE! ADRIAHAHANONO—!” I feel my body get increasingly more exhausted, my arms going slack against Adrian as I slump down, hunching into myself, shaking my head softly.

“Okay. Enough.” I hear Adrian say rather firmly. The pebbles slow their torment to a stop but don’t move off of me. There are little movements to balance and hang on, still making me squirm with giggles.

“Give Grace room.” Rocky adds, getting up to pluck a few pebbles off of me while the other skitter off.

“Heheha thahank yohouhehe.” I wheeze, my eyes closing in relief.

Once they're all off Adrian finally lets go of my arms and I immediately pull them close, sliding all the way to the floor. I rub at the skin of my tummy, trying to get the tingles out of my skin.

As I huff to get my breath back, the baby’s crawl up and watch closely around my head. I feel a small movement and I jump. But then I feel more and more. The pebbles start petting me, mimicking what Adrian was doing earlier. Not sure if they're doing it to be soothing on purpose or if they're just curious about what hair is but I don’t care. They let out purring and cooing noises as the continue. Little claws scratch at my scalp making me melt a bit under the touch, relaxing my tense muscles.

“Told Grace. Pebbles love you.” Adrian shifts closer to me, pulling my shirt back over my stomach and fixing my glasses, pushing them up the bridge of my nose. They take a digit and carefully wipe at the tears on my cheeks making me giggle and scrunch up softly, pushed at their arm.

I sigh, “Well they could at least express it in a different way.” A smirk makes its way to my face as a pebble climbs on my forehead, feeling my eyebrows then reaching under my glasses to graze the tear soaked eyelashes of my one eye.

Anxiously Rocky trills “Careful! Human eyes very important and delicate!” I see him shift to quickly grab at the baby but I hold my arm up.

There is no way to know if all my work paid off, and that fact has lost me countless nights of sleep.

There is no way for me to know that those Beatles made it back to Earth intact, that the taumoebas survived the journey, let alone reentry, or that Earth wasn’t already empty by the time they got back.

It’s a possibility that I had convinced myself I needed to accept. Something I knew even Stratt considered a likely outcome. Utter failure.

Why else would she name the mission “Hail Mary”?

But I am terrified. I risked my life to make sure my planet had a fighting chance at survival.

What if it was all for nothing…

I gripped my arms tightly, nails digging into the skin, with something slick beneath my curled, clawed fingers I couldn’t see in the dark on my right arm.

Every drumming beat of my heart felt like rhythmic punches to my chest, making me wheeze and gasp.

Breathing was merely a motor function - not purposeful or productive. A machine instinct to keep air in my lungs, though no matter how hard my body pushed, hardly anything made it in.

Dizziness.

My extremities tingled as the blood in my body collected around my vitals, leaving my arms and legs feeling cold, heavy, and numb.

I know I have to breathe, but it hurts. Every breath feels like I’ve just come up from underwater.

I deserve nothing more.

“Everyone’s gone…”

I mutter to myself. My voice, if you could even call it that, was no more than a whining squeak.

“Everyone. Eva’s gone… Dimitri’s gone… Carl, your students- they’re gone. They’re doomed to freeze a-and starve, and die and it’s my fault. It’s my fault! it’s my fault-!”

My voice cracks, the harshest words I’ve ever spoken to myself are nothing but a whimper.

“I’m a coward. A coward. I wouldn’t have done ANY of this if Eva hadn’t forced me. What the hell makes me so special? What makes ME with being the lone survivor of the ice age I didn’t even want to help prevent…”

My grip tightens on my arms, a stinging, staticky pain on my right flared in rapid pulses, but I ignore it still.

“I’m not a hero…” I begin to cry. “I’m not a hero… I’m not a hero… I hope they don’t think I am…”

I hang my head, glasses tumbling off my face. Heavy, heaving sobs lurch from my chest as I sit in the tiny, dark bathroom.

It’s cold, it’s pitch black, and I couldn’t convince myself I deserved anything more at the time. My punishment. Death would be too merciful.

My body shakes, but not from the cold.

Breathing becomes difficult, shallow and erratic.

“Grace!”

There’s a voice… I can’t bring myself to look up.

“Grace!”

“Get away from me.” I wheeze, head still hung, knees to my chest.

“Are you- Grace what’s going on?”

I don’t reply, hoping he’ll leave.

“Ryland Grace, can you hear me?”

“Go AWAY.”

“No, look at me.” The voice is insistent.

I only sob in reply.

“Grace, it’s me, it’s Simon. What’s happening? Can you please look up at me?”

“NoooOOO! LEAVE ME ALONE!” I cry out, pressing my back to the wall as hard as I can.

I hear soft footsteps approach me, slowly, like you would a scared animal.

“Grace, you’re scaring me…”

“Simon… go away…”

“No! Stop telling me to leave, I’m not moving! You think I’m leaving you alone like this? You’re out of your fuckin’ mind! I could hear you crying from the observation deck!” I pick up the irritation in his voice, but he was making an effort not to shout at me.

I shake my head slowly, sniffling and breathing heavy.

There’s a quiet click as Simon turns on the bathroom light, casting the room in a dim, whiteish orange glow.

“Oh Jesus- fuck, Ryland!” Simon hisses, taking a shaky breath, before dropping down in front of me.

“You’re bleeding. Shit- damnit, Gracie, you’re bleeding, where is that coming from?!”

It sounds like there’s a lump in Simon’s throat. Oh- he’s afraid of blood…

I shoot up, staring at him with wide, puffy eyes.

“I-I’m sorry-! I didn’t know! I- I can’t feel…” my words are breathy and quiet, but urgent. “I— I’ll take care of it, go- go back upstairs!”

“NO. Give me your hands.” Simon demands.

He sits on the floor in front of me, extending both hands out to me.

“Now, Ryland, I’m serious.”

I hesitate for a long time, and Simon waits patiently.

Finally, I weakly put both my hands in Simon’s, and he pulls my arms out straight.

“There it is- Gracie, you’ve picked straight through Rocky’s paw print scar on your arm.”

The source was hard to see through blurred vision, but my forearm was painted red, along with the opposite hand’s fingers, and some of my, thankfully, red shirt.

“I- I didn’t… I didn’t realize…”

“I know, you do this when you’re anxious, you pick, and you pick, and you pick. Never like this though.” Simon sighs.

He looks around for a moment, I say nothing.

Quickly, he yanks a wad of toilet paper from the wall, and slips the headband he’s wearing off his head, fashioning a crude gauze and bandage around my arm, trying his best not to focus on the blood.

I wince as he pulls the knot tight.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s not severe, but I have to make sure the bandage stays secure.”

“Y-your headband…”

“It can be washed. We have peroxide.”

Simon finishes his work, sighing as he releases my arm.

“I’m so sorry…”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I’m sorry…”

“Grace, stop.”

My voice begins to shake, and I can feel another wave of guilt, sending me to tears. Now I’ve involved Simon. I’ve worried him, scared him…

I shake my head, trying to will the words out that are stuck in the back of my throat, but all that comes out is a dry heave, and a sputtered sob.

Simon sighs, bringing himself closer to me. He waits a moment, before gently taking me by the shoulders, and pulling me into him.

I don’t protest, falling into Simon’s chest, arms wrapped tight around him, clutching his sweatshirt as though it were the only thing between me and oblivion, which for all I know could be true.

“It’s alright, you’re alright. You’re alive, you’re safe, and I’m here. You’re not alone.” Simon begins to rock from side to side, gently tracing a hand up and down my back as he tries to put me at ease.

I shake my head against Simon’s chest. “No… no… nonono…”

“No what, Gracie? Use your words.”

“Nonono, no! What if I messed it all up?!”

“Messed what up?”

“You haven’t messed anything up… and if you have, I’m sure we can fix it.”

“You don’t… know that. How do you k ow I’ve done everything right?”

Simon pulls back, looking down at me, brows furrowed in confusion. “What’re you talking about?”

“I- I went through the motions- I did what I had to…”

“Okay… for what?”

“But how could you possibly know it was all correct? W-what if something happened?! What if I did something wrong?!” I sob, almost pleading with Simon.

“What if I did something wrong with the probes- o-or the breeder tanks, and because of me, everyone is gonna die?!”

“Hey, hey-“

“What if it’s my fault humanity is gone?! Wh- what if I’m a murderer…? They said I’d be remembered as a hero, but that’s not- that’s not true!”

“Grace-!”

“I’M A MURDERER, SIMON. EVERYONE COULD BE GONE AND IT’S MY FAULT.” I shout, my entire body tensing as I use every ounce of strength to scream.”

“No., that isn’t true”

“I’m a murdererrRRR. Why should I get to survive when everyone else is on the green mile?!WHY AM I STILL HERE?!”

“HEY. Do not say that. That’s a horrible thing to say. You deserve to be here, and you’re not gonna say otherwise. I don’t fuckin like hearing you talk like that.”

“People have been condemned for far less…” I mutter.

“Enough. That’s enough, Gracie. You’re getting in your own head.” Simon gives me a sharp squeeze, bringing me back to focus.

“Listen to me. You have gone places, done things, experiences and survived things that no human ever has.” His voice is soft and quiet.

“Impossible odds, even more impossible decisions, and here you are, still alive, and still well. That counts for something. That means something.”

Simon brings a hand to my hair, brushing through it lazily.

“And neither of us are naive, or idiots. We know there’s always a nonzero chance of something happening, but what matters is that you have done everything and more in your power to make sure your planet survives. And that’s all anyone can reasonably ask of you. No one is gonna blame you personally on the off chance something goes wrong. You’ve done your part.”

I say nothing in reply.

“And don’t give me the bullshit of “I’m not a hero”, either. You realize you’re the lone savior of Earth, Erid, and me, right?”

Simon pushes me back just far enough to get a look at my face.

“Why else would I call you my angel, if not for the fact that you saved my life? You nearly crashed your ship taking a chance on a distress signal from a moon you didn’t even have charted on your system, all to potentially help something in need. and you brought me aboard, showed me patience through my distrust and anger, care for my injuries, and compassion towards my past, my mutations, and every bit of baggage I dragged in with me. You saved my life. If nothing else, then selfishly, you’re my hero.”

I let out a whining sob, collapsing back into Simon. He tightens his hold on me, resting his chin on the top of my head.

“I owe you my life, and I’ll spend every minute of the rest of it making sure you know just how much you’ve done and sacrificed for me, and the two planets you and Rocky saved.” I can feel the vibration of his words through my skull, and I nod slowly.

“Can you sit up and look at me, Angel?” Simon asks, coaxing me up again.

Reluctantly, I sit up, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, and looking up at Simon.

“You are humanity’s, Erid’s and my hero, Ryland Grace.”

I take a breath, still a little shaky, but nothing like before. I shift to sit on my knees in front of Simon, and pull him into a hug, arms wrapped tight around his neck. He doesn’t miss a beat, returning the hug with equal strength, the both of us holding each other as if we’d never see one another again.

“Thank you, Simon- I- I’m… I’m so happy I found you.”

He chuckles softly, nodding against my shoulder.

“I’m glad you found me too, I would t be here if-“

“I love you.”

The words are put before I even know it. Silence follows.

“I- I’m sorry, I don’t mean-“

Simon shakes his head.

“No, no. It’s alright… I love you too.” He chuckles, squeezing me tighter. He pulls back slightly, tipping my head down, and planting a quick kiss on the top of it. “I love you more than you know.”

The words aren’t as heavy and burdening as they’ve felt for me in the past. There was something different about how Simon said it.

The moment I loosen my grip, Simon Dows the same.

I sit up, my cheeks a bit red. I take a deep breath, sitting back against the wall.

“Do you feel better?”

“I think so.”

“You think so? Or you know so.”

“I’m… retry sure so.” I sniffle, shrugging.

“I’ll accept that answer.” Simon nods, sitting crisscross in front of me.

“What brought this on? Bad dream? Did you see something?”

“I dunno. I couldn’t sleep all night, and my mind just…”

“Started wandering.”

“Yeah.”

“So you’ve been up all night, then? That’s why you look so exhausted.”

I nod, thumbing the bandage on my arm with the opposite hand. Yeah…”

“Why didn’t you come up to the observation deck? I could have kept you company.”

“I- I didn’t want to wake you- I know you have trouble sleeping too…”

“Ohhh bullshit, you know you don’t have to worry about that.” He rolls his eyes.

“I know, but-“

“Anything my Saving Grace needs is within reach, if I can help it.” Simon says dramatically.

“Come on- don’t call me that.”

“I am ever at your service.”

“Ugh, stop that!” I scrunch my nose at Simon, cringing at the display, unable to help bit smile.

“Oh! Look at that, we got a smile!” Simon teases, flicking me on the nose.

“Simon!” I shove his hand away

“Fine, Fine, but I mean it, if you feel your mind starting t wander, please come find me. I’ve always got time.”

“I appreciate it. S-same to you, of course.” I try not to make it sound like an afterthought. It isn’t, it’s just hard to articulate at the moment.

Simon gives me a smile, before standing up with a groan. “C’mon. Grab your pillow and quilt.”

He nods towards the door of the tiny bathroom.

“What? Why?”

“You’re sleeping over at mine tonight.” He crosses his arms.

“In the observation deck?”

“Yeah, I cannot in good conscience leave you alone down here tonight, so you’re coming upstairs. Rocky’s sleeping up by the deck tonight too. He finally trusts me enough to sleep by me. I’ll be all of us.” He smiles.

I remain on the floor, staring up at him, trying to hide the smile on my face.

“You’re excited, I cannot see you smiling.”

“Whatever.”

“I’ve got eyes, Gracie- not good ones, but I can still see. Here, I’ll take up your stuff, you clean up, change into something that’s not covered in blood, sweat and tears, and meet me upstairs, ok?”

I look down at my shirt, sighing. It was in pretty rough shape.

“Alright.”

Simon nods.

“I’ll see you in a bit, then.”” Simon says, before rather discreetly taking the clippers from the shelf above the sink, and pocketing them as he leaves the bathroom.

I sigh. I know why he took them, and part of me hates myself for making him distrust me. The rest of me appreciates the concern.

-

I find a pair of shorts, like basketball shorts, but softer, and a sweatshirt that I rarely wore - black, with the NASA ‘worm’ style logo branded on the front in stark white. I roll the sleeves up over my forearms, deciding this was good enough as anything.

-

I ascended the ladder, crawling out of the dormitory. The observation deck was straight down the long hallway, and I could see the light of the stars from where I stood.

Since we converted the observation window to Simon’s “room”, it had taken on a life of its own. Rocky built a suspended platform for his mattress, with room on either side for personal items, like books from around the ship, rolled up charts, and notebooks. The rounded walls held a few shelves with more books, a small box Rocky built to hold Simon’s amulet if he ever took it off for any reason, and a crudely made origami plant that I made for him a few months back. He even kept it under a UV grow light.

I approach the platform, stepping up, and plopping down beside Simon. He had my quilt and pillow laid on the opposite side of the bed from where he typically sleeps.

“Looks a Lot more comfortable.” He gestures to my sweater.

“Yeah, it is.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen that one before.”

“I don’t wear it a whole lot- I’m still getting over the uh- the whole ‘wearing merch for the company that sent me out to die’ thing.” I shrug.

Simon chuckles. “That’s fair, I definitely wouldn’t wear a COI t-shirt.” We both snicker.

“Oh- you changed your bandages too.” Simon points down to my arm.

“Yeah, I had Armando wrap it up really quick. Linda tight, but that’s alright.” I lift my arm, looking down at the cleanly wrapped gauze. “Oh, and I promise, I promise I’ll wash your headband for you- I already hit it with some hydrogen peroxide.”

“Don’t sweat it, I’ll be fine.” Simon shakes his head.

I sigh, lying back on the bed.

…

“Can I ask you something?l Simon looks down at me, his voice sounding heavier than it had a moment ago.

“Sure.”

He takes a moment, arranging his sentence in his brain like scrabble tiles.

“You don’t… uhm… are you- okay?”

“Am I… okay?”

“I mean- I know you were in a tough spot earlier, but you were saying some really concerning things, Ryland…”

“No, no, Simon really, I’m alright. It was the panic talking.”

“That doesn’t just come from nowhere, though. I understand what you mean, but you don’t just say you don’t think you deserve to be here without having that idea cross your mind in the past.”

I’m quiet for a while. He’s absolutely right.

“I promise, it’s not something that I consider as often as it… probably seems… which is probably why it makes me panic- it scares me too- but I swear, I’m alright.”

“Please, utilize me. We’re the only humans around for lightyears - we’ll lose it if we don’t communicate. So please please tallk to me, and bring things like this up to me in the moment so I can help.”

“I will, I promise. I’m sorry.” I sit up on my elbows as I speak.

“I hope you mean it…”

…

“Thank you, by the way.” I say

“Hm?”

“For keeping me company- and making me feel like I’m not Earth’s biggest failure.”

“Anytime. I’m glad I got to you in time.”

I hum in reply. Im glad too.

A moment of silence passes.

“Oh- I have something for you.”

I turn my to face Simon.

“I was gonna wait to give it to you, but this is as good a time as any…”

He turns to the shelf on the wall, grabbing a roughly wrapped object, concealed in notebook paper with “Grace” written in marker on it. It was taped together hastily, like he was fighting with the dispenser in the process.

I chuckle, sitting up and taking the parcel from him, turning it over in my hand. It was about as big as my palm, and relatively light.

“I know, I’m terrible at wrapping things up, but…”

“N-Noho! No, it’s great, Si!” I chuckled, tugging at the twisted tape.

After a bit of struggle I get the thing open, and a thin, dark metal chain slides free onto the quilt beside me. I pick it up, letting it dangle in my hand.

It was a… a pendant… it looked quite similar to Simon’s amulet, a round frame with a clear center. Something was suspended in the clear, glassy center - small, ivory, sharp and curved.

“Wow- this is awesome! What is that? In the center?”

“Don’t freak out.”

“…okay..?”

“It’s a tooth.”

I gasp, staring at Simon for a moment before shouting.

“Simon!! This is your tooth?!”

“No! No, dummy it’s not my tooth, calm down. It’s a tooth that got stuck to my clothes before you rescued me - a fragment of one from the creature in the ocean. I cleaned it, and had Rocky make a pendant to keep it in.”

I sigh. “My god, lead with that.”

“Not as funny that way.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever… this is really cool though, thank you.”

“Now you can wear a reminder of what you saved me from. Now you have no reason to doubt that you’re a hero.”

I’m silent for a long while, clutching the pendant in my hand, staring down at it, before a few tears roll down my face, dropping down into my hand.

“Oh shit, goddamnit, are you alright?!”

Simon puts a hand on my shoulder, concern in his voice all over Gaian.”

“I- I’m okay, I’m okay… sorry, just kinda emotional at the moment. I love it. I’ll never take it off.

“Good, good- I don’t think I can take another scare tonight. Here, give it here.”

Simon extends a hand, and I drop the pendant into it. He moves behind me, lowering the charm over my head and onto my chest, fastening the clasp behind me with a bit of struggle.

I shudder, letting out a stray huff of laughter as his knuckles brush against me.

“Laughing at a man struggling with a prosthetic?”

“Nohoho! No, I’m just- tahahake your time.” I say.

“You’d like that.” Simon mutters, scritching my neck with one finger, making my shoulders shoot up.

“Sihihimon!”

Sorry, sorry. I’ll stop.”

I look down at the necklace. “I don’t- I don’t mind…. You don’t… have to…” I mutter, as Simon moves back over beside me.

“You want me to?”

“W- well I mean…”

I can feel him smiling at me. I continue looking straight ahead.

“Would that make you feel better? If I ticke you? That’s what you’re dancing around asking?” He tilts his head.

“Maybe, I guess…”

“Maybe you guess?”

“C’mon, please don’t make me spell it out, it’s been a long night.” I huff.

“I won’t, I won’t. Just wanna make sure it’s what you want.”

“Yes.”

“Ok, I’ll go easy on you.”

I look over at Simon with an honestly pretty pathetic look.

“You don’t want me to go easy? Angel, I- I don’t want to overwhelm your system- you’ve only just come down from a panic attack, is laughing like a maniac really safe after crying so hard?”

He does raise a valid point, but I can’t find it in myself to care. I needed the pick-me-up.

Simon sighs after I greet him with the same expression..

“Fine, I’ll work up to it. Start slow.” He relents. “Are you gonna come to me, or am o gonna have for grab you myself.”

I smile at him, not moving an inch.

Right… fine, I’ll bite.” He shrugs, lurching at me, grabbing me by the shoulders, and pulling me down onto the quilt.

“Please let me know if you need a break.” Simon says rather sternly as he sidles up to me.

“I will. I’m okay.” I smile.

He nods. Two, uncharacteristically gentle hands find their place against my torso, lightly squeezing and kneading my stomach.

I snort,quietly giggling. “Sihihimon, you don’t have to treat me like I’m made of glahahass!”

“I know that, I’m just being careful.”

“I- I tohoOLD YOu, I’m okay. You’re nohohot gonna hurt me I’m a grown man.”

“Hmoh.”

“What’s thahat supposed to mean?!”

“Nothing.” He pokes me in the navel.

“AaAAH-haha-! If anything, it’ll just tire me out and I’ll finally be able to get some sleep.” I shrug, looking over at Simon.

He sighs. “If it’ll help you sleep…” Simon grumbles. He grabs me, dragging mw up into his lap. His metal arm held me up against his chest at an awkward angle, my arms suspended, and unable to drop. My sweatshirt had ridden up to my stomach in the process, which was precisely the target he struck.

“A-AHAHAHA-HAHAHAA!!” I shriek, feeling a strong hand strumming at my stomach like a guitar.

“Y-YOUR HAND IS SOHOHO COLD-!!”

“Low iron.”

“H-HOHOW IS TBAT EVEN POSSIBLE?!” Simon switches to roughly squeezing the center of my stomach, forcing the muscle to flex.

“It’s not, that was a lie. Wow- have you actually been using the fitness equipment?” Simon chuckles, giving my abdominal muscles a few strong pokes.

“A-AH! AHAHA! WHY IS THANAT SURPRISING, JERK?! OHOHOW!”

Simon stops a ruptly. “Whats wrong? Are you okay?!”

“YEHEhehes! Simon, I’m fihihine!”

“Why the hell did you say ‘ow’ then?!”

“I dunno! I just did!” I shrug as best I can in the suspended position I’m stuck in.

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack. Don’t say that unless you’re actually in pain, dumbass.”

“You’re so jumpy!”

“I’m worried about you! God forbid I’m worried!”

“AwwwwWWAAAAHAHAHA-!”

“Shut up!” Simon hisses, digging his knuckles into my ribs, dragging them up and down like a xylophone.

I throw my head back against Simon’s shoulder, cackling probably a bit too close to his ear.

I find myself sliding upward, pushing with my legs, instinctively to move away from Simon’s hand. He grumbles, clearly annoyed with me worming around.

“My god, hold still if you want me to do this!”

Simon takes me under the arms, lifting, and tossing me down into the bed, with enough push to one shoulder to land me on my back.

I land with a muffled thump, looking up at him with a lopsided smile on my face. Simon’s mild annoyance thaws when he looks down at me.

“You tired yet?”

“No, not really.”

He sighs, looking me over.

“The hell is with those socks?”

“What?! What’s wrong with them?!” I shrug.

The Hailart crew stocked my luggage with apparently, very strictly science themed items… shirts, sleepwear, and socks.

There’s no way this was all my wardrobe was back on earth…

This particular pair of socks, I quite liked. They were black, patterned with the line angle formulas of various chemicals. Dopamine, adrenaline, seraronin, and others of the sort.

“Are these constellations? Whats going on?”

“No- they- no they’re not constellations, are you blind?! What constellations look like that?!”

“How would I know?!”

“Oh- haha- r-right.”

“Jerk.”

“They’re skeletal structures of chemicals. They’re diagrams used in chemistry to show the bonds of molecules.”

“Huh…” Simon lifts my right foot up by the ankle. “What’s this one.” He jabs one of the images stitched into the bottom of the sock, and I yelp, jerking my knee back, unable to pry my ankle free.

“AH-! I- I dunno-! I cahahan’t see it!”

“Okay, does this help?” Simon shrugs, tracing a finger along the hexagons and lines of the chemical structure.

“A-ABAHAHA-! SIHIHIIMON-!”

“Do you know it or not? Pay attention.” He huffs, starting over.

Hexagon… two lines protruding from the left, going up left, and down left… GOD this sucks- then a line going up right from the hexagon… Oh!

“ADREHEHENALINE! IT… ITS ADEENALINE.” I shout, grabbing a corner of the quilt and covering my face with it, letting out a gravelly, muffled scream.

“That’s not what it says here. It’s got a bunch of letters and numbers.” Seriously?! The formula?!

Simon retraces the shape again as I struggle to think

“UHUHUJHH- DANGIT!! I- I DUNNOHOHO.”

“Yes you do, Think.”

“UUUURRBHHAHAHAHA OH-! OHOH ITS C- SUB 9, H SUB 13, N O SUB 3.”

“I need the elements, Gracie.” Simon shakes his head, suddenly raking his fingers up and down the bottom of my foot.

“AAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA-! OKAHAHAHAY OKAY ALRIHIHIGHT-! PLEHEHEASE! STOP AND I’LL AMSWER- I CAN’T TAKE IT.” I howl, thrashing around like a fish out of water.

Simon stops immedietly, pulling his hand away. “Alright. Go.” He says.

I take a moment to catch my breath before answering.

“It- it’s (R)-1-(3,4-dihydroxyphenyl)-2-(methylamino)ethanol…”

“…What..?”

“You asked!” I throw my hands up. “NO. Nohoho no more of that, that SUCKED.”

I yanked my leg away from Simon as he searched for another chemical to quiz me on.

“You’re done?”

“Just with that.”

Simon chuckles, patting my bent knee. “Okay, fine.” He says, shuffling up to my side. “One more, the. I think it should be lights out.”

“Deal.” I agree, admittedly feeling a bit groggy already.

Simon smiles with the wickedness of a man with a plan.

“Sit up.”

“Huh?”

“Up, Gracie.” He makes a rising motion with his hand.

I stare at him for a moment, a bit confused, but I do as I’m asked, sitting up with my knees still bent.

Simon opens out his arms, gesturing for a hug.

“What?”

“Would you just come here?” He chuckles. “So inquisitive.”

“I’m a-“

“Scientist, yes, so I’ve been told. Cmon.” He become me close with a rotation of the wrist.

Hesitantly, I move closer, accepting the suspicious hug, wrapping my arms around Simon’s neck as I do before, and he closes his arms around me.

“Perfect.” Simon purrs, before tightening his grip like a boa constrictor, both hands digging into the muscle of my back.

“A-AHAHAHAHA-! WHAHHAT?! WHAT THE HECK?!” I shout with stunned disbelief.

Simon chuckles darkly, the sound reverberating through my head as he began to knead and pinch and scratch, and jab all up and down the expanse of my back.

“AAHAHAHAHA-! AAAAAH-!! PLEHEHEASE THIS IS SO NOT FAIR!!”

“Yes it is, this is all at your request, Angel.”

He drives his knuckles into my low back, at the same time, blowing a sharp raspberry onto my neck. I thrash in his iron- or xenonite grip, until finally, I’ve had enough.

“ALRIIIIHIHIHIGHT ALRIGHT, UNCLE, PINEAPPLE, HAIL MARY, WHATEVER, STOHOHOP!”

And he does.

I fall limp, and Simon keeps me steady against him.

“That was cruel, y’know that?”

“Again, you asked me to do this. You said it’d make you feel better.”

“Uuurrerrghhj…”

Simon snorts, patting me on the back.

He peels me away from him, holding me at a short distance.

“Do you feel better?”

I nod, fatigue weighing heavy on my eyes. “Yeah, yes, thank you.”

“Anytime, Angel.” Simon nods, squeezing my shoulder gently.

He reaches up, combing a hand tgrough my hair, pushing it out of my face. He looks at me softly, not saying a word.

…What happens next can only be explained by a sleep deprivation induced lapse in judgment. I honestly to god don’t know what came over me in the moment, but in the stillness of the silence, I took a breath, and leaned forward…

I kissed Simon.

I… kissed Simon. I did.

And he kissed me back.

I figured- heck, I expected him to push me back, but he didn’t. Sure he was stunned for a second, but once the shock wore off, he slid a hand behind my neck, the metal one down to my back, and he kissed me back.

Not rough, not vicious or messy… equal, comfortable reciprocation.

I’d hardly ever done this before, and hadn’t the slightest clue what I was doing, but pulled back, with a sharp pain in my lip that I’m pretty sure was y standard for the experience.

Right, the teeth.

“Oh, sorry-“ Simon mutters, looking down at the red stain on my lip.

“No no, it’s alright. It’s fine.”

“It’s bleeding.”

“Yeah I can taste it. It stings…” My voice is quieter now. @Y- you’re not… venomous, are you?”

“I dunno, guess we’ll see.”

“What?!” I tense up.

“Joking, Joking. I’m not venomous. My teeth aren’t hollow like snake teeth.” Simon taps one of the long, sharp teeth with his finger.

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.” He smiles.

I nod, looking to the side.

“Gracie.” Simon tilts his head to catch my eye again. “That didn’t have to mean anything you don’t want it to. You’re drained, and your mind is probably still a little scrambled - don’t worry about it, okay?” He says softly.

Admittedly, a part of me is relieved. I’m really not a relationship guy, let alone a kisser, so I couldn’t begin to imagine the implications a spur of the moment kiss would have on any other person.

I sigh. “Thank you, I- I appreciate it. I don’t know where that came from… W-well it’s not that I didn’t- that I don’t want to… kiss you…”

“Oh? Okay-“ Simon chuckles.

“No! But- I don’t- I just-…” Simon puts a hand up, signaling me to shut up, and I do.

“You don’t need to explain yourself. Don’t hurt yourself, you don’t have to explain.”

“Right… sorry…”

Simon lets out a deep quiet laugh, shaking his head.

I yawn, rolling my eyes.

Simon tips my head down, planting a kiss on the top of my head, like he did earlier.

“Why don’t we stick to that for now? No obligation, Nonthreatening.” He smiles.

“Yeah… yeah okay that sounds good…” I murmur, fading in and out where I sat.

Simon points behind me to my rumpled quilt and pillow. “Lay down. You’re gonna pass out sitting up.”

I mutter something even I can’t remember now, and let myself drop back onto the bed, making the supports rattle with the impact. I had been craving this sleep for dozens of hours, and it was finally within reach.

I hear Simon shuffle over to his side of the mattress, enough room between us maybe for Rocky to fit without his hamster ball. The light on the shelf clicks off, and Simon lays back with a groan only a man thirty years his senior should make.

I short.

“Something funny, Grace?”

I giggle like a kid at a sleepover, whispering - “you sound like an old man.”

“You’re older than I am.”

“But I don’t sound like that when I move around.”

Simon sighs, no longer finding me amusing. I can’t blame him.

“Go to sleep.” He grumbles.

I sigh, rolling over, closing the distance between us.

“Seriously?”

“It’s cold…”

“You chose to wear shorts!” He hisses.

“Okay! And so I’m cold!”

“Will this help you go to sleep?”

“…yes.”

Simon sighs, slinging his arm up and over me, yanking me close, my head between his arm and chest.

“Goodnight.” Simon says, grumbling with exhaustion.

“H’night… love you.” I mutter, my body finally falling limp against Simon’s.

Ryland Grace floated around the Hail Mary with a straw in the corner of his mouth, leading to a bag of vodka. He hadn’t been drunk in a hot minute and needed something to feel a little less like himself. It was certainly a problem he had but at least some form of way to taste something nice and forget stuff for a bit. Be a little happier despite all that was going on around him. Making his way into the screening room where Rocky was staring at the screen surrounding him. What played was one of those videos you play for cats with ocean sounds in the background. All sorts of fish swim by, sharks, sea turtles. Something grace had taught the little Eridian not too long ago and seemed to have formed quite the likeness towards. Something so pure and majestic he could just watch for hours…almost seemed to have beat the tape measure. 

Anti-Gravity had now been turned off to Grace’s request by Mary as he slunk to the floor. Awkwardly landing on his feet, waltzing over to his friend and sitting down beside him. Leaning his right arm against the xenonite ball. A bit wobbly from the amount of alcohol consumption but still functioning smoothly. He never let himself go that bad…well…most of the time. 

“Hey Rock, what's got you watching this?” 

Said alien chirped in delight at the sound of Grace’s voice, reaching an arm of his out from the mesh of his ball to hold onto his friend’s arm. 

“Hello Grace! Rocky wanted to watch calm video. Rocky like fish.”

Grace smiled softly at his friend's words. Patting the top of the ball with his palm and setting down the bag of vodka. 

“Do you have a favorite bud? Mine’s the manatee but if we are talking about actual fish. Then I really like basking sharks…such interesting creatures.” 

“Grace has a dumb taste. Spider crab is an obvious choice.”

Grace snickered at that.

“Pfff, whahat? Why would you say that?”

The Erdian seemed to raise his claws up into the air. Letting go of grace and pinching his appendages in the air similar to how a crab would.

“Great big creature with many arm scary! Rocky look like this! Rocky very big. Very strong. Like spider crab.” 

Grace couldn’t help but chortle and shake his head at the thought. He remembered now that Rocky had taken an interest in all things with many appendages like him. The giant squid, octopus, all sorts of crabs, spiders and such…If only he could see and understand what color was. Then he would really have his little rock mind blown. 

“Whatever you say buddy.” 

“Yes Rocky say yes, Rocky smart yes yes.” As Rocky spoke his arms pushed through the mesh of his xenonite ball, briefly going to reach up and skitter against the side of Grace’s neck. Making the poor guy squeal and squish his shoulders up to his ears. Quickly glaring at his friend and playfully giving him a push. 

“Rohocky!”

The Eridian chirped and trilled at his friend. He loved the sweet sounds that came from his favorite human when he tickled him.

  It had been several days since the little Eridian had learned what exactly tickling was. It was such an interesting and endearing concept to him. Something so simple made his friend laugh and smile so brightly just by touching him…He couldn’t help but chirp at the thought. Rocky had turned it into a normal thing to now sneak in a tickle or two while the teacher worked or was bantering. Always seeming to jerk out a new reaction from the man that always seemed to make the tips of his ears glow a warm shade of red. That be a snort, a squeal, a shriek. Whatever it was, it was something that swelled the Eridian's heart. That is if he even had a heart….You get the point

However Rocky couldn’t help but start to wonder something about himself after the events with Grace…Was he ticklish? As in himself…Something he would begin to ponder about for a few days…He tried doing what he did to Grace to himself but it didn’t seem to work. Maybe leaky blob humans are just far more sensitive than any other species…who knew. The Eridan was never shy of an experiment, however. All he had to do was ask his friend! Right?

--------♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.‧₊ ♪˚⊹˖ ݁♬⋆.˚𝄞. ~☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★🛸~♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.‧₊ ♪˚⊹˖ ݁♬⋆.˚𝄞.-----------

A few days had passed before Rocky began to act on his thoughts. Finding Grace in the laboratory. His eyes fixated through a microscope, performing experiments on taumoeba. Adjusting the lenses as seen fit and squinting to try and notice any changes. The man hadn’t been seeming to sleep much at all recently. In the past three days Rocky had only watched him sleep one time…Grace was running himself dry. Nothing coffee couldn't fix. He eventually brought a pause to his work however as the Eridian rolled his way to be close to his friend. 

“Hey, buddy! I unfortunately haven’t made any progress on well…anything today. So if you’re looking for further information I don’t have any”-

He was cut off.

“Can Grace tickle Rocky question?” 

The rest of what Grace was going to stay immediately paused at the tip of his tongue. Processing what the Erdian just asked of him. First furrowing his eyebrows. Then leaning back in his chair. Eventually, a soft smile spread across his face.

“Wait wait wait. Whahat do you want?”

“Grace ask dumb question.” Rocky twittered and pointed at Grace. “Rocky ask Grace to tickle Rocky. Rocky want answer.” ‘

Now this was something that Grace didn’t necessarily expect the alien to ask of him. And yet he couldn’t help but hope he eventually was going to ask him. A small smirk spread across his lips. Pushing his glasses up upon his nose. 

“How can I say no to something like that? Comere big guy.” 

Grace got down onto the floor and sat upright on his knees. Arms open enough for Rocky to come towards him. Completely oblivious to what was about to happen.

“Not hurt right? Question…” 

Ryland shook his head giving the side of the xenonite ball a pat. 

“Noho no of course bro, buddy. Yknow hugging right?” 

“Long thing that goes too long that Grace also like? Question…” Rocky deadpanned. 

“Well- yes that. Think of it like that but added with a bit of extra. Just tell me to stop whenever you need me to, pal.” 

Rocky was a bit skeptical, but he trusted Grace. Allowing the man to bring his hands through the mesh of Rocky’s protective ball. The texture was something familiar to dish gloves for Grace. He hated doing the dishes. Especially when soggy food got under his fingernails. The thought was enough to make him gag. But his fingers simply rested on the from appendages of the Erdian. Rubbing his thumbs along the rough surface. It wasn’t enough to cut him however. The xenonite blocked anything that could actually hurt him. But it did make his palms a bit warm. It was almost nice. 

“You ready pal?” 

Rocky chirped a yes, giving Grace the go. “What Rocky supposed to do? Que”- 

Before Rocky could finish Graces fingers gently scratched experimentally at the top of Rocky’s back. Tracing his fingertips along the cracks and crevices. Rocky was genuinely so surprised he darted to the corner of his xenonite ball with a high pitched shrill. Almost sounding like a dolphin.. Not running away considering graces arms were still through the mesh. If he did so he was prone to hurting his friend. Grace couldn’t help but worry he scared his friend or started too quickly. 

“WHAT WAS THAT QUESTION?!?” 

“Thahats what tickling is buddy! I’m sorry did I scare you?” 

Rocky came out from the corner and back to his friend. His little claws gently holding onto An his friends wrists. Putting them back on the top of him. The act alone was enough to make a FAT grin draw across Grace‘s face. 

“No. Statement. Rocky does not get scared.”

“You sure about that, pal?” Grace chuckled softly. 

Continuing the little experiment with his alien buddy. Gently tracing the little bumps along Rocky’s topside. Little chirps and tweets coming from said Eridian that didn’t seem to be translated. This was certainly his form of laughter….

“Who would have thought that Erdians could be tihicklish…this is really cute buddy.” 

“Rocky not cute statement! ᯓ‎𝄞 ˎˊ˗ ♬⋆.˚!!” 

“Yeah you are, pal.”  

Grace traveled his tickling down the sides of his friend. Noticing, however, that Rocky’s assumed ‘laughter’ seemed to deminish…So Eridians have tickle spots like humans too.  

“Why not work question?” Rocky disappointingly drooped. 

“Well…As humans people have different places that are more…sensitive. Like I’ve told you, usually in protected places…maybe you’re similar…” Grace hummed.

“Grace ticklish everywhere statement.” 

The straight up thought made Grace look off to the side. “Y-Yeah wehell…T-that’s different…” 

“It is not.” Rocky twittered cheekily….was Rocky provoking the scientist? 

“Yohou little- alright pal you’re just asking for it now.” 

The Eridian chirped at the sudden fluttering of Grace’s fingers underneath his front two appendages. What would be considered his underarm, the joint of his body to his ball and socket would be. Not clamping his arms down however. Not wanting to pinch the man’s fingers. 

“Feel funny-‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹ statement! ‧₊ ♪˚⊹” 

Rocky tapped one of his feet onto the ground, curling up like a cat and loafing around Grace’s hands. The man simply followed Rocky. Keeping his touches as feather light as he could. Not wanting to overwhelm his friend. Rocky was enjoying himself quite a bit. He wasn’t entirely sure about this concept before but it sure was interesting to him. Human culture is so interesting…

“Yeahhhh that’s how it is, bud! It’s completely harmless. Are you sure you're still okay with this?” He asked Rocky. 

“No worry Grace! ˖ ݁♬⋆.˚𝄞༄࿐༘⋆ Can keep going statement!”

His playful attributes travelling to trace the under sides of the alien. An even higher pitched noise coming from the Eridian. Swatting one of his paws at Grace and using another to hold onto the human’s wrist. Almost in a way acting like a puppy getting its belly scratched. It was so endearing to see… Especially for Grace. He himself was very much enjoying himself. Smile wide, biting his lower lip just enough. Glasses slightly off his ears. His heart swelled with affection for his dear friend. 

“I wonder if…” The teacher paused for just a moment. 

Giving Rocky a bit of time to recover before taking one of his paws in his hands. His arms are still inside the xenonite ball. Such a shame that such material had to separate the two…Really limited the tactics he could have used…He wished he could teach Rocky what a ‘raspberry’ was. (No not the actual fruit…You reader. Yes you. Know what I’m referring to. Ticklehead) But the two different types of environments they could be in really limited that. Grace gently began to poke and prod around the place Rocky's fingertips had a crevice to his palm. A slight and yet genuine twitter and tweet coming from the rock. 

“Nohow THIS is sweet. Your little paws are sensitive.” Rocky couldn’t resist closing his paws around Grace’s fingers. Holding his friend's hand and shaking up and down just a bit from all his chittering. The astro(not) adjusted his glasses on his face. Letting go of Rocky’s paw and pulling his arms from the xenonite ball’s mesh. Sitting criss-cross now from his friend.

“Glad you seemed to enjoy yourself pal.”

“I like ! Repay Grace statement.” Rocky rolled slowly towards his friend.

Grace's big smile shifted…his eyebrows changed his expression. One of now…nervous worry, Processing what Rocky said. Slowly standing up and backing away towards the door. Rocky followed close. 

“R-Rocky…dohon’t….”

The alien raised his claws up into the air quickly picking up the pace to match Grace’s backwards walking. 

“Rocky tickle Grace now! Thanking friend and run experiement!” 

Grace quickly turned around and began to bolt out of the laboratory for anywhere to hide. As fast as he could however…considering how exhausted he was. His body was finally starting to feel the effects. Crap. Rocky being close behind and quickly catching speed. The man nearly fell due to the fact he wasn’t wearing shoes and his socks made his friction on the floor being far less than with shoes. Catching himself on the wall sliding into a nearby room. He hadn’t really thought out this plan well..Rocky was incredibly fast and had intense hearing…He eventually was going to catch up and find him. Maybe secretly that's what he wanted. Rocky was so gentle with him all the time, and affectionate. He wouldn’t mind it in the slightest. After all, it made him and Rocky both happy. As he was lost in thought however, he didn’t notice his friend in the doorway to the room. Grace had practically trapped himself in his bedroom now with Rocky at the entrance. 

“Hey Grace!” He rolled closer to his friend.

“Uhhh…H-Hihi Rohocky…” He waved towards the Eridian, slumping to the floor in the middle of his room. Accepting his fate.

“Rocky want to help Grace relax. Rocky know how statement. And Rocky wants to try things!”

Grace began to curl his knees up to his chest. Hugging them as the Eridians sat right in front of him. 

“I-I don’t think that’s necessary pahal…” Rocky pushed his from appendages out of his protective hamster ball. Tapping at Grace's arms as a way to ask the man to let go of his legs and instead hold onto him. With a sigh, the man obliged. Holding onto the ball and wrapping his legs around it. His shoulders scrunched tight and up against his ears. 

“Just be soft alright bud?” 

“Rocky understands.”

Grace’s nose scrunched up as his expression turned into a wobbly smile. The slowness of Rocky's arms wrapping around his sides and resting on his back filled the anticipatory feeling inside his chest. Rocky remembered the first place Grace had tickled him. Imitating the same place now on Grace. His fingers gently began to trace and flitter across the teacher's back. Dragging up and down his spine as well. An almost immediate mouse-like squeak coming from him.

“EEE! R-Rohocky! Oho goodnehess!” 

Grace tried to wiggle and squirm from his friend arching his back just a little bit even though it did literally no good. Squealing as Rocky experimentally scratched underneath his shoulder blades. 

“GYEHahaha! *squeak* W-wahait nahat there R-Rohock!” 

“Grace so noisy statement” The alien chittered and gently stayed at that spot.

Grace tapped his feet on the floor and squirmed a bit against Rocky’s tickling. Pressing his forehead against the xenonite and letting his soft genuine laughs spill from his lips. 

“Ihi cahan’t help it buhud!” He hiccuped.

Rocky couldn’t help but think again…He learned that his sides weren’t ticklish and he already knew that Grace’s were so there was no need for experimenting there. He already had his answer there. He also knew just how ticklish the man's underarms and stomach were. But a little time in those spots wouldn’t be a waste in the slightest. With a few more pokes and prods against Grace’s back the tickling traveled down and across the human's belly. Sliding his paws underneath his shirt and pinching at the soft skin. Grace immediately bit down on his lip, squeezing his eyes tightly and holding in his laugh. His cheeks puffing out.

“Why Grace not laugh question?” 

Rocky was confused. Maybe human spots change over time? He instead changed his methods. Gently skittering his fingers against the lowermost part of the man’s belly. Causing Grace’s protest not to last very long as he erupted into adorable laughter. 

“PfffHYAHA! *snort* NahaAHAHA!” 

He sucked his belly in to try and protect himself from Rocky’s tickling fingertips. You would think he would have learned by now that it does literally nothing. But alas. 

“Rocky fix Grace laugh statement!” The alien enthusiastically trilled and dragged his curled paws up and down the sides of Grace’s belly. 

The man’s shoulders shook as he let go of the xenonite ball. Lightly pushing with little effort against Rocky. Being given the grace of a break however as rocky pulled his paws out from under the man’s shirt. Patting his sides. Before asking an interesting question. 

“Can Rocky see Grace hand question?”

After rubbing his cheek with a bit of confusion he agreed. Resting one hand on his tummy, rubbing out the butterflies that fluttered within. Giving the other to Rocky. 

“Why do you need my hand?”-

The Eridian gently held Grace’s wrist with one hand and used the other to gently circle a singular finger along the man’s palm. Tracing the creases and soft padding. 

“Gyeheh H-hehey buhuddy!” 

“Grace very ticklish statement.”

Grace curled up around himself the very best he could. Lots of giggles coming from the man as his hands were tickled oh so softly. He didn’t even know his hands were ticklish. He wasn’t surprised however. Like Rocky stated very clearly and despite how flustering it was. He was a very ticklish individual. 

Not too long after Rocky ceased his gentle and playful actions. Closing up graces fingers into a fist and giving his hand back. 

“Rocky done statement. Eridian and Humans share ticklish areas.”

Grace sighed as he hugged himself around his mid section. 

“Must you hahave to p-pohoint it out?”

“Yes.” 

Grace shook his head, catching his breath. Using Rocky’s ball to help push himself up and walk towards his bed. Rocky follows close behind to prepare to watch him sleep. 

“Ihi think…I really need to get some rest now.”

“Yes ! Grace finally sleep! Rocky watch Grace sleep yes yes.”

Rocky helped push Grace up into the bedding. Pulling the blanket across the man. His arm dangling off the side of it for Rocky to hold onto. Laying down next to the bed, loafing like a cat. 

“Thanks buddy…”

“Ill be here when you wake, Grace.” 

I look in the mirror, turning my head from side to side.

“Hm..”

“What wrong, question?”

“Nothing’s wrong- my hair’s just getting a little long. I haven’t cut it in a while.”

“Hair not look different to me.”

I shrug.

“Yeah it’s not all that much longer. I just get annoyed when the back touches my neck. It’s itchy.”

“Itchy, question?”

“Yeah. Human hair can have different textures - soft and smooth, coarse and stiff, thick, thin… I happen to have pretty thick hair, which can be scratchy.”

“Hm, Grace have bad hair.”

“Wow- okay.”

I huff, taking the shears out of the cabinet and flicking them on. Rocky flinches at the sound.

“What that?! Weapon?!”

“No! No, not a weapon! They’re just clippers! They wouldn’t put a weapon on the spaceship, Rock. This is used to cut hair, see?”

I turn to the side, eyeballing a rough cut of the shaggy hair at my neck.

It wasn’t a perfect cut by any means- even worse with my eyesight, but the end goal was comfort, not style.

A few tufts of brownish blonde hair tumble down my back and onto the floor. Rocky seems horrified by the sight.

“Hurt?! Grace hurt?! Losing body part!!”

“Nooooo, Rocky, hair doesn’t feel pain when you cut it off. People cut their hair all the time! Especially when it gets long and unruly.”

“‘Scuse me.” Simon appears, bargimg into the small bathroom, startling Roxy and me both. He reaches past me, grabbing a shirt he had hung to dry on the zero-G stabilizer bars near the ceiling.

“Yeah, see? Long and unruly, like this.” I tease, picking up and gently tugging a lock of Simon’s dark, long, unkempt hair.

“Get offa me, Astroboy.” He hisses, elbowing me in the chest, knocking me a step back. I snort, shoving him in the back, pushing him out of the bathroom. “Careful! I’ve got clippers! And you got in my way, Iron Man!” I chuckle.

“That one isn’t even clever.”

“Yeah it is! Blood’s made of iron!”

“Whatever.”

“60-170 micrograms per deciliter, baby.”

Rocky chirps with quiet laughter.

“See?! He thinks it’s funny.

Simon groans from outside in the dorm.

“Hey, your first nicknames for me were ‘Savior’ and ‘Angel’, and you didn’t drop either for days, so I don’t wanna hear it.”

“I thought I was dead, and you were the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes on a bright white foreign ship. OF COURSE I thought you were an angel! had just woken up from a coma!” Simon shouts, standing in the doorway, shirt held tight in his hand.

“Ohhhh welcome to the Confused Coma Club, Iron Man. Nice to have a third member! At least you didn’t wake up to a robot claw in your face. Would you put your shirt on please?” I snicker.

“Your shirt.”

“Well you’ve stretched the heck outta the thing, so it’s yours now.” I snicker.

“Asshole.”

“Language, Moon Fish.Hey, when are you gonna let me fix your hair up? Lord knows you haven’t done much with it since you got here.”

“I don’t want a haircut.”

“At least let me brush out. Pull it out of your face a little?” I suggest.

“No.” Simon grumbles as he turns to leave. “And for the record, you definitely got a kick out of ‘Angel’.”

“…Get out of my sight.” I click the clippers on and off at him a couple times as he walks off.

I roll my eyes, crouching down to collect the tufts, putting them in the waste bin.

“Why Simon no have to cut hair, question?”

“Because he doesn’t really care about it. It’s not mandatory, some people like their hair long, some like it short.” I run a hand through my hair, pushing the fringe back off my face. “I don’t like hair touching my face or my neck, so I keep it short. Simon couldn’t care less if he tried, so he lets it grow. Simple as that.” I shrug.

“Tedious. Tedious. Humans too tedious about appearance. Inefficient, statement.”

“Yeah well.” I mutter.

“’m headed up to the lab. Join me if you want to.” I say, placing the clippers back where I found them.

“What Grace working on, question?”

I shrug. “Got some samples I’ve been looking at the last couple weeks that I wanna check on.”

“Ohhh Simon Rocket samples!! Blood and metal!” Rocky chirps.

I grimace, shaking my head.

“Shhh! Rocky! …Ok, yes, those samples, but don’t say it so loud!”

“Why question?!”

“I don’t…” I peek my head out of the bathroom to make sure the coast is clear. “I don’t want Simon to know that I harvested samples from the planet and vessel that almost killed him!” I hiss.

“But… alive now! And okay! Should not matter.”

“In a perfect universe it wouldn’t matter. But trauma can make things that can no longer hurt you feel just as painful. And besides- he doesn’t react well to blood… he said it agitates him. I don’t wanna trigger him.”

“Why Grace get samples then?!”

“I got them before he told me all this! Look. I only work with the samples when he’s asleep, to minimize risk of exposure. I already feel bad enough keeping the stuff on board.”

“Then eject samples. Statement.”

“Through the airlock that’s as loud as a star exploding? Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“Bad bad idea.”

“Yeah, well I don’t know what else to do, Rock. I’m doing the best I can.”

-

It’s late.

And you’ll just have to take my word for it, since it always looks like night in space, but according to the clocks in the lab, it was well after midnight.

Simon had gone to sleep early, around 9:45, as opposed to his normal 11:00, so I spent that extra time in the lab this evening doing some work on the hull and ocean samples that I had - selfishly - retrieved from Simon’s ship during the rescue mission.

It was truthfully meant to be somethingto keep me busy during the rest of the flight to Erid. I wanted to learn about the blood ocean, the ship itself, what perhaps critical design flaws went overlooked, leading to the wrek, and maybe even figure out how Simon’s body was able to mutate in such a short time.

I could ask Simon all these things too, of course. But there was no use jostling trauma that was still trying to heal.

By the end of my session, the lab station was a wreck covered in specks of rust, drops and splatters of blood at varying dilutions that had escaped the pipettes I had been using to transport it from vials to dish to slide.

It looked like a bit of a crime scene. I chuckle, lifting my goggles over my head, setting them to the side.

In the last few weeks, I had come up with some pretty interesting results from the experiments and tests I had spent so long in secret running. I did wish I could share them with Simon, but the time didn’t feel right.

Who knows if he’d even want to know some of this stuff. Why did I want to know?

There was a bin in the lab specifically for biowaste, which is where I discarded my stained gloves. Although the blood from the ocean wasn’t technically from a human, it still counted as human blood. Finally, I wipe down the station, and begin packing up all my samples.

“What could you possibly be working on this late.”

“AAAH-! Cheez-itz! Where did you come from?! Why are you up?!”

I jolted, scrambling to shove the rusted metal, vials, and microscope into the nearby cubby at the back of the lab station.

“Nightmare. What’re you doing?” He remained unflinching, standing with my cardigan lazily draped over his shoulders.

“Nothing! Nothing important I- I was just… working on something for Rocky… that he uh… asked me to do.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm!”

“Something for Rocky.”

“Yes.”

Simon looked me up and down.

“How many times I gotta tell you you’re an obvious liar. Simon rolls his eyes, pushing past me with ease.

“Simon-‘ wait, hold on-“

“Rusty metal? The hell does Rocky need with rusty metal when he has xenonite?” He mutters, peering into the cubby, dragging the lab set back out.

I groan as he leans down, looking at thw small vials of red liquid, all in a row on their stand, each one a slightly diluted color than the last. The stacked Petri dishes, and wrapped microscope slides.

Simon scanned the table, then looked back at me.

“Is this blood-? Are these samples from my ship?!” He looked… very irritated.

I freeze, unsure of how to respond.

He caught on quick….

“I- uhm, yeah…?”

He gave me a searching look, taking a step back.

“How the fuck did you get these?”

“I- I salvaged them during the rescue operation-!”

“Why do you have pieces of my ship?” His voice dropped. Ice cold.

“I- I’m sorry! I didn’t think it would be that… big of a deal..?”

“Not that big of a deal.”

“Yeah! I just- I just wanted to do some research on y-your ship! And the composition of-“

“You could just ask me that yourself, Ryland.”

“I mean, I could, but that would just be unnecessary trauma exposure…”

“AND THIS ISN’T?!” He shouted, slamming his prosthetic fist into the table. I clambered backward into a neighboring table, slamming my back into the corner of it.

“I told you specifically, in trust and confidence, that I NEVER wanted to see that god forsaken moon, the ship that was almost my CASKET, OR THE BLOOD THAT TURNED ME INTO A FUCKING MONSTER. EVER. AGAIN.” Simon shouted, bearing his teeth at me.

I cowered away, shifting away from the table, only to misstep, and fall backward onto the floor.

“I- I know, I know I’m sorry.”

“AND AT NO POINT, DID YOU THINK IT WOULD BE WISE TO TELL ME YOU KEPT SOUVENIRS OF MY DEATH SENTENCE?”

“I- I thought I could do a better job! At keeping it hidden!”

“That’s what you’re taking from this.”

Simon stood over me, the dim, pale light of the lab backlighting his hulking silhouette.

“NO! I- I didn’t mean it like that!” My heart was pounding in my chest.

“I’m not sure I believe you. Seems spot on to me” I could hear every inhale and exhale from his lungs. 

“Please-! Please, you- just listen! I already had the samples before I knew a-anything you told me. I wanted to bring it up but I didn’t know how ithout upsetting you, I’m sorry-!”

Simon says nothing. I swear I could see his red eye flicker in the low light as he stood over me like a devil in the dark.

“I- I can get rid of it! I can put it all in the airlock and I can shoot it aaaall out into space.”

…

“Simon..?” I was paralyzed, firmly against the wall like I was trying to phase right through it.

Simon makes some kind of move towards me that I could only see a split second of before I flinched, shutting my eyes.

“No- NO-! ROCKYYY!” I shout on a broken cry, balling up on the ground and bracing for… something.

Nothing ever came.

I heave, still rigid in fear.

Enough time passes for me to be confident I was no longer in danger. I open my eyes.

He’s… gone.

-

I’m in trouble… boy don’t I know it…

know I’ve made a mistake. A ridiculous, moronic, dangerous mistake. And honestly, if he would have torn me into microscopic pieces for going behind his back like I did, I wouldn’t hold it against him.

So stupid! All of that, just to do some reaserch on a moon I’m never going back to, and a vessel that’s been pulverized.

I feel like a horrible friend.

It’s been three hours. Simon is probably in bed by the window, and I’ve sequestered myself in the dorm, frankly too scared to go up.

He wouldn’t have actually hurt me…

Even if something did happen, that’d be 100% on me.

Rocky didn’t hear me calling for him. He was asleep, here in the dorm.

I set Simon off, AND left Rocky to sleep alone. Great.

I sit up slowly, standing up off the bed, pacing around in a circle around Rocky, asleep in his ball.

At the very least, I can gather up all my samples of Simon’s ship, and toss it all in the airlock. I won’t cycle it, since it’s late, and the airlock is deafeningly loud, but hopefully it’ll put Simon a bit more at ease if I prove that I’m willing to get rid of everything.

I think to myself.

Yeah, that’s a good plan.

I make my way up the ladder, out of the dorm and into the main, long hallway. It’s pretty easy to sneak around the ship, since nothing really creaks or squeaks under foot.

There’s no light aside from the dim emergency lab bulbs a few yards down the hall, the light spilling up from the dormitory hatch behind me, and the hazy starlight at the end of the corridor.

I feel like I’m walking through a haunted house. It’s dark, I can hardly see as is, and I don’t have any idea where Simon is.

I don’t know if he’s asleep, awake, still mad, and stalking me…

One step at a time… my only objective is to collect the samples, and put them in the airlock. Easy!

I come upon the enterance to the lab. Staying close to the wall, I lean over, peeking in.

Simon’s in the lab…. Simon’s in the lab?! What’s he doing..?!

He’s at the station I left all the hull samples at. Craptastic. What does he want with them?! I thought he didn’t want to see them!

Maybe he’s getting rid of them himself. Thats okay too, I guess. He isn’t obligated to tell me. Those were pieces of his ship, after all-

~Creeeeeak~

I jolt- I had put too much of my weight on the open lab door, making the heavy metal creak as it slid forward.

I ducked away, my back to the wall I had been so desperately hugging. I closed my eyes tight, biting my lip, hoping, praying that Simon didn’t hear.

…

A moment passed. Nothing. Clear.

I open my eyes, turning back around the corner.

“Ryland.”

“AGH-! Simon! I’m so- SO sorry, I- I wasn’t spying on you! I was-“

He raises both his hand.

“Stop talking.”

“Okay.”

“What are you doing? Why are you creeping around the ship like it isn’t your ship?”

“…”

“You can speak now.”

I sigh. “I… I thought you’d be asleep by now… I was coming back to get rid of all the samples…”

“Right.”

“I’m serious!”

“You weren’t gonna just move them someplace else.”

“Simon.”

“You understand my hesitation to trust you right now, right? It was easy enough for you to lie to me before, why wouldn’t it be now?”

“I didn’t lie to you!”

“Lying by omission is still lying, Ryland.”

“Fine, yes, that’s… that’s fair, and I’m sorry! I don’t know how else to prove to you that I’m sorry!”

“…”

“…”

“Did you learn anything?”

“W-what-? I I mean yes, I’ve learned a lot from this- n-not to just go and do things behind-“

“From the samples.”

My face goes a little red. Oops. “Oh. Y-yes, I did, yeah.” I mutter.

Simon stares at me for a moment, piercing eyes scanning my face like a laser.

He grabs me by the wrist, turns, and drags me behind him into the lab.

“W-wait woah-! Woah woah, what’re we doing?!”

We reach the lab station, and Simon shoves me down onto the lab stool.

“Show me.”

“…Show you…”

“Show me what you’ve gleaned from your samples.”

“Are you sure? We don’t have to-“

“Show me.” Simon hisses.

“Alright! Alright… okay. Um…” I tap my fingers anxiously on my thigh as o think of what to show him.

“Okay, well for starters, I know why your hill breached.” I say, reaching down to a metal filing drawer, pulling out a thick notebook, edges worn, with various corners of stray parts and sticky notes poking out in all directions.

I set it on the table, flipping it open, scanning the page with my finger.

“You keep physical notes?”

“Well I didn’t wanna risk you stumbling across the notes on the ship’s cloud drive, so I opted for physical.”

Simon groans.

“I l ow… I’m just being honest. Here.” I point to a paragraph on the center of the page. Keeping my finger on the paper to hold my place, I reach into the cubby at the back of the desk, pulling out a sealed, clear container that I’m sure Simon missed.

I hand it to him.

“That’s a chunk of the outside layer of your hull.”

“I can see that.” Simon groans,poking at the chunk of metal inside. It was a good sized piec- maybe about theee or four inches, square.

“Turn it over.” Simon flips the container.

“See the caked on blood there? Under earth.”

“Everything was caked in blood, what’s this supposed to prove.”

I stand up, looking down at the sample, and tapping the plastic of the container.

“Yes, but look. The entire bottom side of the piece is covered in dried blood. The bottom shouldn’t look like that if it were functioning properly. The outer layer wasn’t secured to the body of the vessel, and it was allowing ocean blood in between the hull and the body of the ship.” I explain.

“In space, a breach like that would kill you in minutes.”

Simon stares at the sample intensely.

“Rush job.”

“Rush Job. They just needed it done and built to send you down. It was a design error.”

I sit back down.

Simon is quiet for a while.

“What else.” His tone has softened quite a bit. He sounds curious now, as opposed to angry, and holding himself back.

I swivel back around on my stool to my notebook, flipping through the pages.

“Right, uh… nothing, nothing, nothing… a lot of obvious observations… oh! Oh…” I land on a page titled ‘Mutation’, and I sigh.

“What?”

“I uhm… I think I found what may have mutated your body, Simon.” I say cautiously. He stares at me, and I can’t read his expression at all.

“Okay, come here, look at this.” I slide everything on the desk aside, and pull the microscope forward.

I switch it on, and reach for a pair of gloves.

I spend the next few minutes setting up a slide with a drop of diluted ocean blood, and a very small sample of the only other living cell I could safely work with. A drop of taomoeba.

I close, and load the slide onto the microscope, and move out of the way for Simon to take a look.

“There’s something in the ocean blood. A microbe of some kind, and it’s aggressive.” I say.

“What’s it doing?”

“You see it? The little red cells?”

“Yeah… those aren’t blood cells..?”

“Yes, and no. They’re similar. They have almost the same composition and shape, but they’re poonty.”

Simon adjusts the magnification on the slide, zooming in.

“Has it found a tapmoeba yet?”

“Yeah, it… it attacked it. It killed it.”

“Keep watching.” I fold my hands in my lap, turning to watch Simon.”

“It’s moving again. The taomoeba. But it’s moving around kinda frantic.”

“Yeah, I observed the same.” I say. “The ocean blood cell attacked it, killed it, and replaced what was lost withsome e of itself. It mutated the taomoeba.”

Simon Stands up straight.

“That’s what happened to you. The microbe got into your system through a wound, probably, killed off parts of your body, and managed to change your genetic code just enough to convince your body to self edit.” I sigh.

Simon nods slowly, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“I mean… it’s not all terrible, though. If you really think about it, if you weren’t mutated into something that could withstand the ocean… you may not have made it out. I may not have ever found you.”

I stand up, shoving my hands in my pockets.

“The mutation doesn’t seem to be spreading anymore, since you got here. Which is also a plus. You had enough healthy human cells to fight off the infection, with Armando’s help, so it’s not gonna get any worse. The ocean blood cells can’t survive without th right atmospheric conditions. Thats why I keep them in the vials- oh!”

Simon cuts me off, wrapping me in a tight hug. I stand there, frozen like a fool, unsure of what I’m supposed to do or say.

“Thank you.”

“For… what, exactly-?” I mutter.

He doesn’t reply for a while.

“Proving with your sneaky, annoying science that I’m not a monster.”

The words are quiet, muttered into my shoulder like something he was assuring himself of, and not telling me as a fact.

“What?! Of course you aren’t. You never were. You’re a survivor.” I finally bring my arms up, hugging him back for a long while.

With a deep breath, I take him by the shoulders, prying him off me, and holding him at arms length so I could look him in the eye.

“And look, I’ll still get rid of the samples if you want me to. I never should have hidden them from you, and if you want them gone, they’re gone.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, it’s better if you keep them.”

“Are you certain that’s what you want?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll even let you cycle the airlock yourself.” I chuckle.

“Angel, I’m positive.” He smiles softly.

“Angel? Why am I Angel again Not Gracie, or Astroboy?”

“Would you prefer something else?”

“No, just wondering.” I shrug, letting go of Simon’s shoulders, and turning back to the lab table. I grab a small cup, and a small squeeze bottle that I had lying off to the side, filling the cup about a quarter inch.

“What’re you doing now?”

“Killing the mutated taomoeba. I don’t want these little guys running around the ship. Already had one leak, and that was plenty.” I remove the slide carefully from the microscope, and dunk it into the cup.

Simon leans down over the cup, his hair falling over his shoulder, into his face, dangling over the cup.

I gasp, quickly reaching over, gathering his hair and holding it back. The solution wasn’t volatile, just some lab grade isopropyl alcohol, but a rule o always had in my classroom was to keep hair, clothes, skin, and jewelry away from chemicals at all times.

“Careful-! Careful- my god! How many times do I need to tell you to watch your hair around the lab!” I scold, holding a bit too tight, as evidenced by whether grimace on Simon’s face.

“Sorry, my bad- here let me…” I step behind Simon, twirling his hair around two of my fingers, and fastening it onto a tight bun. He didn’t seemed thrilled, but he didn’t fight me.

“There. Perfect. It wouldn’t hurt to wear some goggles… too…” I trail off a bit, walking back around to the side, as Simon looks at me.

“What?”

“N-nothing! I’ve just never seen you without your hair in your face. Looks good!”

He rolls his eyes. He did honestly look a lot different. The usual shadow cast over his eyes was gone. They were a lot kinder in the light - and maybe a bit tired.

“It feels ridiculous.”

“It isn’t, you’re just not used to it.”

Simon groans walking to the other side of me, helping me clean up the lab station.

“Oh- no don’t worry about it, I got it.”

I shake my head, looking up at Simon. I catch a glimpse of something I hadn’t seen before just as he picks up some equipment, and pivots to go put it back in a cabinet a few paces away.

“Wait- hold up. Back up. Come here a second.”

Simon sighs. He knows exactly what I saw.

“No, you make too big of a deal out of everything.”

“Correct! Now come here! You’ve got another mutation you weren’t telling me about?”

“So you can keep secrets, but GOD FORBID I do…”

I jog over to him, ignoring his jab. “Hold on, let me see!”

Simon rolls his head back in annoyance, before relenting. “Oh my god, it’s not that interesting!”

“You’ve got a fin for an ear! That’s incredibly interesting!”

It’s true. On the same side as the rest of his mutation, Simon’s ear had become something like a multi-pointed fin around the shell. The points were sharp, three of them, jutting out about two inches from where the top curve of his ear used to be. A r rib of cartilage held each point up, like the bones of a duck’s webbed feet.

The extension of the ear faded in an even ombré from the paling tan of Simon’s slin, to a bright ruby red at the ends of each spoke.

“That’s incredible! This is what you were hiding under your hair this whole time?!”

Simon takes a seat on the low lab table, letting me do my thing.

“Yeah, it looks dumb.”

“No it doesn’t you look like a dragon! You’re so tough on yourself, Si, jeez.” I say, still glued to Simon’s fin.

“What could this mutation possibly have been useful for…?” I mutter to myself, running a finger along the back of the fin.

Simon’s head lulls to the side, into my hand just slightly. It seemed to happen against his will.

“Yeah?” I give Simon a sideways smile, repeating the motion again, scritching with a bit more pressure this time. He tilts his head again, looking at me like I’ve put some kind of spell on him.

“No way-!” I laugh.

“I’m not doing anything! I can’t contr-ol i-it!” I scratch behind Simon’s ear with purpose, and he drops his head completely into my hand. And his leg starts to bounce against the ground.

I smile wide, laughing more out of surprise than anything else.

“Oh my goodness! You’re like a puppy! A sea puppy!” Simon tries to scowl at me, but a smile fights his way onto his face.

“C-cuhut that out, Grace.”

“You’re laughing! Does that tickle? Ha!” I experimentally run a nail up one of the points, earning a snort from Simon. He shrugs his shoulder up in defense.

“Haha! How silly is that?!” I lift my other hand to his opposite ear, scratching behind it the same way. He laughs just as much as he did with the fin, but without any additional movement.

“Ohhh okay, so you’ve just got ticklish ears anyway. But this one-“ I give the back of his fin a sort of rough scratch.

He lets out a high piched cackle, dropping his head to the side again, his knee bouncing in place.

“This one’s the ticket right here!” I snicker.

“A-ahahAHAhaAHA-! G-GRAHAHACE!”

“Yeah? Whats up, bud?” I lower my hand on Simon’s undamagwd side to scritch along the curve of his jaw. He laughs through gritted teeth.

“S-stoHOHOP! I- I’m gonna kihihill you!”

“Noooo, you won’t. Earlier if you told me that I woulda believed you- but you wouldn’t be calling me ‘Grace’ if you were really upset. It’d be ‘Ryland’.” I say my own name with a deep, gravelly imitation of Simon’s voice.

Simon shakes his head back and forth, slowly sliding down off the table. I follow him down to the floor, a hand on the back of his head to make sure he didn’t smash it into the table on his descent.

“Ok, floor it is. Comfortable?” I sit on my knees towering over his slumped down form.

“Stay- a-away from me.”

“Why would I do that, Siren?”

“Siren-?”

“Yeah, the dish fin thing gives you a kinda mermais, siren kinda look. And it rhymes with Simon, so-“

“Laaaame.”

I scoff. “Askin’ for it!” I say, bringing my hands back to either side of Simon’s head, skittering randomly all over, behind his ear, behind his fin, along his jaw, under his chin, and down his neck, all while making the most annoying ’tchktchktchk’ sound through my teeth, just to tease him, really.

“A-AHAHAHA-HAHA!! GOHOHOHODDAMNIT-!!”

“I would have never known your face could turn so red with all that hair you kept in your face, man!”

“S-shuUHUT UP-!” Simon puts his arm across his face.

“Absolutely not, c’mon.” I tutted, shooting a hand down underneath the arm, pinching and prodding at his armpit. His arm comes crashing back down to his side, and he howls.

“AHAHAHAAAA-! FUHUHUCK!! GRACIE- GRACIE, PLEHEHEASE.”

“You can’t butter me up with a nice nickname, that doesn’t work as well as you think it does.” I drag my hands down, gently running my nails over Simon’s gills. I know it can be a bit much for him, so I take it easy.

“AGH!! YOHOHOU BASTARD-!”

“See? That’s why nice nicknames don’t work. And I’m not even being aggressive about it! I’m going nice and easy.” I say in a bit of a condescending tone. I’m having fun, sue me.

“DohoHON’T patronihihize me I could tAHAKE it.”

“Ohhh is that a challenge, Fishstick?” I grin, stilling my hands.

“Do it, Foxtrot.” Simon hisses.

I smile, staring down at him for a moment.

I extend a hand to him firmly.

“No fighting, hitting, or shoving me off. Gills, thirty seconds, or until you say “Hail Mary.” Deal?”

Simon mulls it over in his head for a moment.

He takes my hand and gives it a confident shake.

“Deal.”

“Alright, ready?” Simon nods.

I swing a leg over him, straddling him by the thighs to keep him down. “3… 2… 1!”

I latch onto Simon’s ribs, both hands velcroed to the middle gills on each side. With everything I have, I vibrate my fingers into the arches.

Holy moly his screaming could wake the dead.

“AAAAAAA AAHAHAHAHHAHA-!!! SHIT SHIT SHIHIHIT-!”

“Let’s find kinder words.”

“NOHOHO, SCREW YOHOHOUHAHAHAHAHA-!’ OH MY GOHOHOD-!”

“Could’ya say it a little louder? I couldn’t hear you too well, actually.”

I chuckle, and switch to raking my nails up and down Simon’s ribs with force I typically would never use. Not enough to leave any sort of mark, but probably pretty close to it.

By this point, Simon has completely slid onto his back on the floor. He had taken to gripping the locked drawer handle behind and above him to keep his arms out of the way. Man, he was serious about this.

“Fifteen seconds.” I announce. I speed my hands up, switching back to the vigorous kneading from before, making Simon’s entire body jolt.

“Huh, look at that- your other ear is just as red as your fin now.” I tease.

“HUHIHUSH.”

“So rude.” I huff, leaning down, and without slowing my hands down, blow hard against the side of Simon’s neck.

I had forgotten to shave earlier too. If this were any other situation, I’d apologize for the scruff.

“AAAHAHAHAHAHA-! FOUL! THAHAHAT’S A FOHOHOIL!”

“No it isn’t. I just said “gills”. I did t specify which gills. You signed off on it.” I say with a conniving smile.

I blow another, then another, the seconds ticking down. I switched quickly to the raking motion against his ribs again, and to my surprise…

“OKAHAHAHAY!! OKAY OKAY OKAY I GIVE!”

I slow down a bit, but don’t stop.

“What do you sayyyy,theeeen?” I I sing out.

“HAIL MAHAHARY! HAHAHAIL MAHAHARY-! PLEASE-! Please-! A-Angehehel-!” His voice quiets down as o stop at the very first word.

“You alright?”

Simon groans, letting his arms fall from the drawer handle.

“Yehehes. I’m fine. Did I make it.?”

“Three seconds short.”

“Bullshit.”

I snicker. “Toooold youuu- WOAH-!”

Simon takes me by the shoulders, pulls me down, and barrel rolls us both over, pushing up once he’s successfully swapped our positions.

“That was a cheap shot to the neck! I would have won!”

I laugh incredulously. “You ALWAYS say that! It was fair game! Get ohohoff me!” Simon gets one decent squeeze to my stomach before I catch his hand, wrestling it away.

Simon growls, pushing against my arms as I push back, the two of us wrestling like dogs on the lab floor.

I pull my legs free drum under Simon, moving them both to the right, and using them to push Simon over to the left, successfully knocking him off me.

“Oof-! Christ! Where the hell did you learn that?!”

Don’t worry about it! TRUCE! Truce! No more.” I yelp out through nervous laughter as Simon looks at me like he’s gonna jump at me again.

“Truce.” I say again.

“Fine, Fine, truce.” He nods, pushing his hair, that had long since jostled free of the bun, back behind both ears.

“Hey! You’re wearing it out of your face now!” I smile, crossing my arms.

The right, unscarred half of his face turns a little bit pink. I never knew it took so little to embarrass him- I’m learning a lot with a clearer view of Simon’s face.

He gives me a look. He knows I noticed.

He rolls his eyes, lift in himself off the ground.

“Oh shut up, Gracie, you’re just as bad.” He leans down as he walks past, grabbing my cheeks and giving my face a firm shake, before stepping over me on the floor. “At least I have the hair to cover it up.”

“You have the hair because you refuse to cut it.”

“I do t want it cut!”

“You’re just too lazy to cut it!”

“I am not too lazy, o simply do not feel like it.” Simon mutters, replacing all the tools and equipment on the lab table back in their respective homes.

“First of all, same thing, and I’ve offered to do it, no less than 700 times.”

“And magically, you think im gonna say yes on the 701st ask! You know what that is? Insanity.” He points a finger down at me. “And besides I don’t trust you. You’re scissorhappy.”

“Wrong!”

“Correct!”

“I cut my own hair just fine, and I can cut yours!”

Simon looks at my hair with a raised brow, then back down at me.

“Yeah, I’ll pass.”

“What?! I look great!”

“In the dark.”

“Fishbrain…”

“Dogboy.”

“Dog boy?!” I scoff

“Yeah, your whole thing is foxes. Foxes are dogs”

“Incorrect. They’re both in the Canidae family, but they’re completely different. Just like how a tabby cat isn’t the same as a tiger.”

“Ohhh whatever! You certainly yap like a fox.

I snort, standing up off the floor. “Yap yap yap yap!” I make “quiet coyote” hands, making them bark in Simon’s face.

“Get away from me, you stray.” He mutters.

“Don’t hate on foxes, you’re still wearing my cardigan!” I snicker, bumping into Simon on purpose as I walk past. He shoves me back, making me hop a step forward.

“Oh! You can keep that notebook, by the way.”

“Notebook?”

“Yeah, the one with all the stuff I wrote on your ship samples. There’s two whole pages about the composition of the ocean. Some weird stuff in there.”

Simon looks down at the still open notebook on the table.

“You sure? You don’t need it?”

“Nah, next time I work on the samples, you can help me out. I’ve got plenty more books- we can start another one.” I smile.

Simon nods slowly, closing the book carefully, keeping a hand on the cover.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” I give Simon a thumbs down, which he returns with a quiet whir of his xenonite arm.

“I gotta get back to Rocky… I’ve let him sleep alone wayyyy too long.”

“Right, alright. G’night, Starman.”

“Ha’ I like that one!” I laugh on my way out of the lab. “There’s a staaaaaarMAAAAAAN waiting in the skyyyyy!”