Long after the rest of the Hail Mary team has gone to sleep, Atratt and Grace find themselves unable to sleep, wired, tired, and in need of distraction from the stress of the most important mission in history. For however brief a time.
Lee!Stratt, Ler!Grace, and vice versa.
This ended up a little more Lee!grace heavy….. sigh…. Whatever I wrote this like minutes after getting home from the fourth time watching the movie- it was late, gimme a break.
The fear of open water is known as thalassophobia. I learned that from one of the captains of the aircraft carrier a while back.
It was never something I really knew I had, considering I rarely ever found myself in situations where I’d be so far out on an ocean, that no land could be seen in any direction.
Despite the fear, the upper deck of the carrier was one of the few places I could go to catch my breath, collect my thoughts, and enjoy some silence.
I’ve been there most of the evening. Honestly, I completely lost track of time. I had only come back to my senses as I noticed the last glimmer of our dying sun had long since dipped below the horizon
How long has I been standing here in the dark..?
My watch promptly told me that I’d been there a while. It was well past midnight.
In any case, I absolutely was not interested in being on the deck with a pitch black sky, and endless void ocean coming to meet it right in the middle. I stood, took a breath of the cool, salty air, and started for the lower deck of the vessel.
I passed a few clocks on the walls on my way down the long corridor, each of them, seeming nearly to scream at me that it was, in fact, WAY too late for me to be wandering around. I ignored them all, as I pushed my way into the crew lounge, standing for a moment in the doorway, enjoying the rare, and absolute silence.
I make my way over to the bar, planting my hands on the counter as I look out over the array of weirdly shaped bottles along the wall. It’d would be really sad for me to drink alone at this hour…
Good thing I don’t drink.
Behind the counter, there’s also a fountain drink dispenser. The kind you’d see at a fast food restaurant. I grab myself a cup, and nudge it against the metal lever that dispenses sprite.
I set the drink down on the counter as if I were serving someone else. “Here you are.” I mutter before walking back around, and taking a seat on one of the barstools.
“Why thank you” I reply to myself, taking a sip of the sprite.
I spend a few long moments staring into the cup, watching bubbles of carbonation form, float to the surface, and burst. The silence is peaceful.
No more than a minute later, I hear the door to the lounge open. I jolt, spinning around to see Stratt walking in, eyes glued to her phone.
I stiffen up my posture. Of all people?! Really, Stratt?!
“Oh- h-hello- Sorry, I hope I didn’t disturb you. I know lights out was hours ago-“ I say, unsure of how I should be acting, deciding in ultra-polite and proper.
Stratt raised a hand, giving me a nod as if to say “no need for that.”
I relaxed, slouching back over my cup on the bar table, resting my cheek on my hand.
Stratt took the chair beside me, sitting so that her back faced the bar, her gaze toward the rest of the empty lounge. We sat in understood, peaceful silence for a few moments.
“You are up late, Dr. Grace.“
“Yeah… lost track of time. A little stressed, and can’t sleep.“
“ me neither. Most nights I can’t.”
“… I’m… Sorry to hear that.”
“A bit late for drinking, no?”
I smile awkwardly, lifting my cup, tilting it towards her. “Oh, no… It’s just sprite. Never been much of a drinker. Want some?“ …What a dumb question.
Stratt huffed. The closest thing I’d ever seen to a laugh out of that woman. To my surprise, she took the cup from me, peering into it for a few seconds.
“It’s not… It’s not poisoned, if you’re worried about that.”
“ I know, you just drank from it yourself. Habit, I suppose.”
That worried me for some reason, but maybe that’s something we can unpack another time.
Stratt took a long sip of my sprite, cringing as she did.
“What?!” I chuckle, tilting my head.
“Why is it so sweet? Is this how all American soda is?” She set the cup back in front of me.
I snort, picking it up myself. “Yeah, pretty much. You know if you want a reliable fuel source, maybe you should give Mountain Dew a try. Untapped potential right there. A liter of that battery acid could probably power a space station for a year..” I say with a smile.
Stratt hums again in reply, but her gaze drifts. I follow her eyeline to on a world map tacked onto the wall on the other side of the lounge. I think I’ve lost her.
I spin around on my barstool so that we’re both facing the same way.
“What’s up?” I soften my voice, slouching down to meet her gaze.
A long, heavy silence passes.
“ You know of Atlas, yes? The… figure. Not the map.”
I raise an eyebrow. A little random. Definitely didn’t expect mythology of all topics, but I humor her anyway. “Yeah, the guy that holds the Earth on his shoulders. The Greek titan.”
“ Yes, the carrier of the Earth and the heavens.” She pauses, looking over to me with just about the most exhausted pair of eyes I’ve ever seen. “It is hellish work, truly. To carry all that is, was, and will be on one’s own shoulders.”
I can see where this is going. I sigh, steepling my fingers under my chin, resting my elbows on my knees.
“ I bet you feel a lot like him right now, huh? I mean, from the outside, looking in, I’ve got to admit, the whole ‘ I can make any country do whatever I want as long as it’s to save the world’ does look pretty cool, but… It is a lot to ask of one person.”
Silence falls between us again.
“But for what it’s worth, what you’re doing, is something no one else on this planet could pull off. And I think that’s something to be proud of, y’know? You’re badass. Overworked, but badass.”
I hesitantly put my Hand on Stratt’s shoulder.
“And more importantly, you don’t have to carry the world by yourself. I mean- you’ve got an entire team here on the ship to support you. You’ve got allies all over the world all sharing the same goal.”
I smile, swueezing her shoulder gently, and pushing her playfully to the side.
“If I can give my honest advice, if you want to lessen the pressure you feel that’s suffocating you, you’ve gotta learn to rely on others to share the burden with you.”
Since when was I an on-board therapist? Wish I could give myself that kind of advice.
Stratt is quiet for a while, and I let go of her shoulder. Her posture loosened a little bit, and I couldn’t quite tell if she was glad I moved my hand, or disappointed.
“Thank you, Dr. Grace. For the advice.” Her response was distant, her focused had dropped from the map, to the floor, but I could tell she internalized my words, which made me happy.
“Can I get you a drink? A soft drink- it is… really late.”
“I shouldn’t. Far too much sugar for this hour.”
“What’re you tryin’ to say?” I raise my arms in mock defense.
She looks over at me, giving me a once over, before looking forward again.
“Not a problem for you. You need the calories.”
She mutters the last part to herself as I stand up to pour her a sprite.
I chuckle, returning to my seat, handing her the cup. She nods in thanks, taking a sip
“For your information, I’m not that skinny. I’m just tall. More room for-“ I gesture to myself “distribution.”
Stratt chuckles quietly, looking to the side. I beam, leaning forward to get a look at her face.
“Did you just laugh?! Did I just make Eva Stratt laugh?!” I smile wide. Stratt waves me off, shaking her head, but I know what I saw.
She raises her cup to cover her mouth, clearly embarrassed by the attention, but I didn’t care.
“It’s the sugar in your damned soda.” She mutters into the styrofoam.
“Ha! That’s a myth! Sucrose does NOT cause hyperactivity, thats a lie peddled by health conscious parents. Don’t get into a fun fact fight with a middle school science teacher. It’s a fight you will ALWAYS lose.” I grin, annunciating my point with a gentle jab to Stratt’s ribs with my elbow, to which she jerks away.
I straighten up, the smile dropping from my face. That was a pretty strong reflex. Did I hurt her-?
“Woah-! Sorry, sorry- did that hurt?” My eyebrows knit together as I awaited a reply
She shook her head with a thin smile that I could only see when her hair moved out of the way. A smile?
Why is she still smiling? Why did she flinch so hard?! What should I be apologizing for, if anything?! I- …ohhhhh.
I regain the smile on my face, gently nudging her in the ribs again, this time earning a quiet gasp of surprise in addition to the same jolt from before.
“Stratt. Are you ticklish?” I can’t hold back a laugh, as I fold my arms, leaning back against the bar. As fascinating as the information was, I didn’t want to push it.
“Most everyone is. Why is that shocking?” She indirectly answers the question, but I still get my answer.
“Mmm, 77% of the population. Majority, but not ‘most everyone.’” I say with a shrug. Stratt throws me a confused look.
“Fun facts. Full of ‘em.” I smile. “Anyway it’s shocking because you don’t seem like you’d be in that majority.” I say, taking another drink of my sprite.
“And you seem like you are part of the majority.” I choke on my drink. She says it just as coldly as she says everything else, but it still catches me wildly off guard.
“W-what?” I feel my ears and neck burning, and I can only imagine my face is just as red.
“What makes you think I’m in the majORITY- hehey!” She pokes me hard in the side. I rub the area with my hand. Her nails are sharp.
“It appears I’m correct.” She says. I laugh incredulously, shaking my head.
“You know what?” I reach over, grabbing her around the shoulders, pulling her toward me like you would if you were about to give your little sibling a noogie, but instead, with my other hand, I gently claw at Stratt’s side. I leave plenty of slack for her wo wriggle free if she wants to, but she doesn’t.
I’ve never heard Stratt laugh before, aside from the occasional, polite, heavy huffs, so I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect. Apparently, she hiccups?
“Dit is dwaas-!” She barks out between hiccuping laughter.
“I don’t speak Dutch, Stratt.” I chuckle, continuing to scratch at her side. She leans further into my chest as she loses her grip on her own stool. I chuckle, scooting us both over so that she can regain a point of contact with her barstool. All the while, I don’t let up, making a rigid claw tith my hand, and vibrating it against her ribs.
“If you wanna say something, unfortunately you’ve gotta say it in English for the stupid monoglot can understand.” I chuckle.
Stratt hiccups, grabbing my hand with a solid grip. “Enohohough!” She struggles to get the word out.
At the signal, I release her, sitting up, with my hands beside my head in a surrender position. I feel a slight burn in my wrist. Stratt points to the same place. “Apologies.” She says, straightening her cardigan.
I look to my arm, and there are two, short, cat-like scratch marks in my arm, apparently where Stratt’s nails had caught me. I shrug.
“No big deal. No worse than a cat scr-AH-! Oof-! Jesus, Eva-!” I cough out as Stratt took my momentary distraction to body slam me to the floor with a hollow thud. I looked up at the woman, frankly terrified.
“Stratt.” She corrected me firmly as she loomed over me, blocking the ceiling light like a storm cloud. My face twisted from pain, to confusion.
“Hang on- you call me Ryland sometimes, why can’t I call you Eva?” I squint at her. Not out of intrigue- my glasses flew off in the fall, and I couldn’t make out any part of her aside from a silhouette.
She doesn’t reply, delivering a sharp jab to my stomach. I gasp and kick a leg out. It’s only now I notice that Stratt has me effectively pinned to the lounge floor, knelt over me like a wolf over fresh kill.
“OKAHAY-! Ok- Stratt it is.” I sputter out.
“This is a very important mission, Dr Grace. It is important that mutual respect and decorum are maintained. That includes titles.”
I scoff. “Don’t give me mission talk right now! I’m on the floor of a bar right now, this isn’t decorum!” I protest. Stratt rolls her eyes - I think, I still can’t really see - and descends a hand to my left side. I shriek, thrashing like a beached fish as her deft, sharp fingers prod and poke at my ribcage.
“AHAHA-! OW- OW-! H-HAHA JEEZ YOUR NAILS ARE SHARP. MMMPH-!” She stops, slapping both hands over my mouth.
“It’s two in the morning, be quieter.” She scolds.
“I can’t help it!” I hiss back once she releases my mouth.
With both her hands over my mouth, she had left my hands unguarded. Now was my chance to gain the upper hand.
In a very uncoordinated move, I launched my arms forward, using the momentum to sit myself up, catching Stratt’s arms before she could once again capture mine. She matches my speed, mirroring my movements.
We had each other by the elbows, pushing one against the other like a reverse tug-of-war. I gritted my teeth as I struggled against her. This lady was strong. I met her gaze, only for a moment, catching a flicker if fire I hadn’t seen from her before. She was enjoying this, damnit! At my expense!
In a split second, Stratt threw my arms to the side, knocking off my center of gravity, and sending me tumbling back to the floor, this time rolled into my stomach. She grabbed my right arm, folding it across my back, and with her free hand, she rakes her claws along my back. Thankfully, the thick yarn of my cardigan dampened most of the feeling, but not enough.
“AUGH-! HahA- OWWW.” I tried to move, but with every twitch, pivot, or lean, my arm bent a little further in the wrong direction.
“Don’t be a baby, Dr Grace.”
Why is Stratt of all people so good at play-fighting?! Does she have brothers? No matter. I endure just about as much as I can, until I feel a cold hand slip down the back of my collar, landing on my neck.
I gasp sharply. “NO. NO. NO NO NO STRATT, PLEASE, I- I’M SORRY.” I plead, my entire body tensing up. I can feel my heart beating against the floor. She seems to pause and consider for a moment, but goes on anyway.
Five, nimble fingers scratch gently along the back of my neck, and I shout. And I mean howl.
“NAHAHAHAHAAA-!! STRAHHATT-! HOLY HELL, STOHOHOP!” My voice breaks as I cackle, legs kicking furiously behind me, as I try to keep my torso still, for fear of dislocating my arm.
She squeezes a few times, just for the hell of it, and I give out. I slam my free hand on the ground much more than three times.
“ALRIHIHIGHT. OKAY. PLEASE, STOP. UNCLE. UHUHUNCLE.” My voice comes out as more of a whine.
“IT MEANS STOP. GET OHOHOFF.”
Finally, she lets up. She releases my arm, and unstraddles me, standing up beside me. I curl in on myself, catching my breath for a moment, rubbing the back of my neck, before slowly rolling over, and pushing myself up off the ground.
I plop back down into my barstool, looking at Stratt like a kicked puppy.
“What was that for?! I only tickled you for like a minute!” I complain.
“One minute and thirty-six seconds. I multiplied your time by five.”
“That’s how I used to play with my brothers. Habit.”
“I knew it. I knew you had sibling. No only child fights like that.” I murmur.
“The distraction. I needed it.”
I smile, despite my exhaustion. “Oh- yeah. Anytime. W-well please don’t- please don’t do that all the time, but I’m happy to be a distraction when you need it.” I offer an awkward thumbs up. “It’s good to loosen up every once in a while. Especially under pressure like this.” I say.
“…But can I please ask that you don’t tell the team about this? I- I mean I doubt they’d make a big deal about it, but I just KNOW ilyukhina would-”Stratt lifts a hand.
“Consider it confidential.”
Stratt smiles softly, nodding. She makes her way behind the bar, gathering out cups, and filling them this time with water. She hands me one.
“Go to sleep, Dr Grace. Hopefully you find it easier to fall asleep now. We have much to do in the morning.” She says to me as I take my cup.
“Yea. I think I will.” I stand up, my cardigan hanging off of one shoulder. Stratt reaches towards my chest, and I flinch sharply, backing into the counter, nearly spilling my water. She pauses, breaking into a stream of quiet hiccupy laughter.
“Relax, Dr.” She turns her hand up, shaking my glasses in front of me, and shoving them into the breast pocket of my shirt. I flush.
“Oh. Right… thank you.” I smile awkwardly, patting the pocket, and starting for the door.
“G’night, Dr Colonel Lieutenant Major Madam Stratt.”
“You said titles were important!”
She rolls her eyes, nodding and waving.
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