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“This means… of Rocky, possessive. Of the speaker.”
“My.”
“Correct. But only for names.”
“So you’re calling me…?”
Rocky repeats the word: “My Grace. Yes.”
“Are there other Graces? Why do you need to specify?”
Rocky considers this, tapping his xenonite-encased claws idly against the floor.
“No other Grace,” Rocky says. “We just do this.”
“Like an honorific,” Grace guesses. “It goes before everyone’s name? Everyone you know?”
Rocky whirs in surprise. “No, no, no. Not at all.”
“Okay, then who? What makes me qualify?”
Rocky is silent for a moment.
“...Does this offend Grace?” he asks, voice lower.
Grace blinks. “No! I don’t think so. Is there a reason to be offended?”
“Good,” Rocky says, relieved. Grace is starting to recognize what Eridian relief sounds like. “No, no reason.”
“Who else do you call that?”
“You don’t have this on Earth?”
Grace considers. What for, friends? He couldn’t call Marissa “my Marissa.” That would be weird.
“I still don’t know what it means,” he settles on. “So I couldn’t tell you.”
Rocky groans in frustration. He’s a very impatient tutor. “We just say it.”
“Are you my Rocky?” Grace asks. He hits the two keys to make the my note.
“I don’t know!” Rocky says. “You decide this.”
“I decide? Who do you use it for?”
“You. Adrian. I will use it for my pebbles.”
Grace blinks. “So few?”
Rocky shifts. “I am… you do not have the word yet. Eridian who works alone often, not close to many other Eridians.”
“What, mechanical engineer?”
Rocky chitters. “Acceptable.”
“Is Adrian your only friend?”
Rocky draws back, like he’s taken offense. “I have friends. Coworkers. But different.”
So just Adrian. And him.
“This worries you,” Rocky says.
“Adrian is your mate,” Grace points out. “I’m not your mate.”
“Correct. You are not. You do not like to be a mate.”
Grace isn’t sure how to respond to that, so he ignores it.
“I’m your friend,” Grace says.
Rocky hesitates, for a second. “...Correct.”
“Like your coworkers.”
“No.”
Grace sighs, rubbing his hand across his face. Okay, maybe that’s fair. It’s not like he felt about any of his coworkers like he feels about Rocky.
“Best friend,” Grace amends. “You’re my best friend, too.”
Rocky hums. “Acceptable.”
“Just acceptable? Now you are offending me. Can you just explain?”
This makes Rocky fall silent for a minute longer than usual. Grace is half-ready to apologize and to say let’s move on and to retype his own name without the superfluous my.
“The Earth ‘best friend’ is not strong enough,” Rocky says finally. “It does not translate this way.”
Grace runs his fingers through his hair, a little nervous, for some reason. “Okay.”
“It is…” Rocky pauses. He has to pause more often, now that they’re not using the translator, to simplify his language. “It means that I am not Rocky without my Grace. You are part of… of the whole. When I wake up, I think of you. When I work. When I eat. When I think I am going to die.”
Rocky speaks slowly, but it’s still a lot of Eridian for Grace to grasp all at once. Even as he works out the sentences in his head, he can feel hot tears rising in his eyes.
“It means that when you are sick, I am sick,” Rocky continues. “And it means I will take care of you, because taking care of you is taking care of myself.”
Grace bunches up his sleeve, wiping it across his face, blinking furiously.
Rocky’s voice is soft. “So Grace is part of Rocky. Grace is like a cell. You see? My Grace.”
Grace is quiet, for a moment, trying to get himself together. When he speaks, his voice is shaky.
“...Oh.”
Rocky hums, pressing his carapace gently against Grace’s arm. “You are leaking. Does this make you sad?”
Grace shakes his head, sniffing, crossing his arms across his knees and resting his chin on his sleeves. “Not at all.”
“Good, good.”
“I feel like that,” Grace mumbles. “Just like that. Just exactly—exactly like that.”
“About your old mate?”
“Don’t act stupid. You know I’m talking about you.”
Rocky hums, burrowing closer. Grace curls one arm around his carapace. That’s not enough, so he leans over, dropping his head down so his forehead presses against the xenonite.
“My Rocky,” Grace whispers in English.
“My Grace,” Rocky echoes in Eridian. Grace can recognize the note at the start. He will add it when he plays Rocky’s name.
“How long have you called me that?” Grace asks. “Must’ve been a while. I didn’t notice it change.”
the thing with rocky is, does he want to kill himself? no. he has the weight of survivor guilt and responsibility towards his entire crew to keep him from killing himself for 46 years. he cannot allow himself to die. he owes them at least that. give him the choice to trade his life for even a single other blip-a member tho and he would deep throat a gun harry dubois style. case in point:
my beautiful mutuals and many other enlightened minds have discussed the possibilities for tension between rocky and adrian re: gracerocky codependency, but ever since that interview with james ortiz i have been plagued with a vision of like. rocky returning to erid as the sole survivor of what, while highly dangerous, was never meant to be a suicide mission... adrian having other family (i was thinking hatchmate) on the blip-a crew as well alongside rocky, and their relief at rocky's safe return getting swept up in their grief. all the families of the other survivors. his best friend is starving in 2 months. it's touchdown day on erid and rocky's "it should've been me" stocks have never been higher
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the Hail Mary is the opposite of idiot-proof. she's built for very smart people to be able to do Whatever They Need with every tool they have in order to achieve their goals. fucking with the centrifuge settings? i'll warn you that you're messing with important stuff but go right ahead man. ripping up the floor panels and pulling out the electricals to make a really unsafe extension cord? sure why not. pop off the fucking fuel tanks? yeah ok you're the most qualified person here and if you say you need to do that who am i to argue. i love the utter lack of guardrails on everything
one thing that absolutely murdered me reading phm was how after grace n rocky separate and head towards to their respective planets, for ages afterwards grace sets aside a brief period each day where he kills the engines on the hail mary so he can fire up the petrovascope and look back at the IR light from rocky's ship. and he does this so consistently that after the taumoeba-burrowing-through-xenonite crisis, he still knows roughly where Rocky's at and that his ship was still functional up until pretty recently, because he's been checking on him every day 😭
I think eva stratt has detailed files on all petrova taskforce personnel that contain more information about their subjects than the subjects even know about themselves. several people in her employ have mild food allergies that she noted and had cut out of their diets via requests to the catering staff but that the people themselves have never consciously noticed, ilyukhina just thought she stopped getting regular stomach aches when she arrived on the vat because she's god's specialest engineer and not because all the dairy in her diet got swapped out for alternatives. grace does some shopping on the mainland at one point and doesn't realize he bought a different scent of moisturizer than usual so stratt just goes into his room and switches it with a hypoallergenic formula in an identical bottle. this is because she has never been normal about anything in her life.
One fun thing about learning new languages is reconsidering the structure of words and language in your mother tongue. It seems with each new language I study, I get more little insights into English, either in how it's similar or how it's different.
For example, a couple years ago, while learning Spanish, I encountered the word for a store, "la tienda." I thought "huh, that's a lot like tener (tiene) - the word for store in Spanish literally corresponds to 'to have/keep'. How interesting!"
Then I stopped for a moment, and for the first time in my life, thought about seriously about the meaning of English word for the place where you buy things, "a store."
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Grace mentioning to Rocky that he used to watch his ship every evening after they parted ways (and do complex math to figure out when he's going to lose sight of it completely). Grace is. a little bit embarrassed about the whole thing.
Rocky is ecstatic.
"Grace watched Rocky sleep, question? Even though we were apart??"
as a child being told "the moon controls the tides" with no additional explanation was like. oh okay. you want me to believe in magic? you're talking about magic right now? okay. fine
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Your partner came back from the dead after being missing for decades. Every one of their friends who they went with ended up dying a horrible death.
Now, somehow, their entire mental health is based on the continued life and happiness of this fairground goldfish that they picked up.
Neither of you know the first thing about how to care for even a healthy fish. This fish has been poorly cared for, has multiple diseases and the person who handed it over explicitly didn't expect it to live nearly as long as it already has.
You're frantically googling how to set up a fish tank, where to buy fish food, can you even take a fish to the vet? Your partner wants you to know that they're happy they made it home and survived their horrific ordeal, but also that if anything happens to the fish then they're going to kill everyone on this planet and then themself.
You're honestly wondering if you're even helping the fish, or just prolonging its suffering, but your partner will only accept medical help for their many injuries or engage in basic self-care once they're confident that the fish is being looked after.
So you get a tank. You set up a filter and all that stuff. You learn way more than you ever wanted to know about water temperature and ph and nitrate levels. The fish is safe. You start to develop some affection for the little guy. Your partner begins to recover. The fish begins to recover.
Which is when you learn that in its 'healthy' state, the fish regularly refuses to sleep when tired, keeps begging for food that is obviously unhealthy for it (and struggling to eat the food that you do provide because “it tastes gross”), and continually tries to persuade your partner to take it out of its nice safe tank so it can go explore the wonderful world of Outside, where the slightest mishap will kill it instantly.
Your name is Adrian, and you kind of wants to strangle this fucking fish, statement.
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