Yuu_id

The seamstresses had approached the problem with considerable enthusiasm, but that enthusiasm had steadily diminished as every new attempt produced another problem. Eventually, one of them decided to search on the portable thinking machine.

"There are too many holes."

Grace stared at them. "That's rich coming from a species with five arms."

The seamstress immediately tapped one of their limbs against the floor. "Yes, but they are all the same size and evenly spaced. There is no need for tight-fitting clothing."

Another Eridian produced a series of thoughtful clicks before looking at the diagram again. "The human body is inefficient."

"Excuse me?"

"Your body has many differently shaped sections."

Grace frowned. "I wouldn't call it inefficient."

"But it is."

He opened his mouth, decided that it wasn't wise  to argue with an alien seamstress about the efficiency of human anatomy, and closed it again. The seamstresses eventually turned back to the portable thinking machine, searching for simpler human clothing designs that they could reproduce step by step. 

They scrolled through examples, compared measurements, and gradually became more interested as they found something that seemed considerably easier than trousers or fitted shirts. Grace watched the discussion from the other side of the room, assuming that whatever they had found would be some kind of simple tunic. He should have known better.

Within a few hours, they had produced their first viable garment.

Grace never expected the Eridians to find and make such clothing.

It was a skirt.

Grace stared at the garment the seamstress brought him. Objectively, it was very well made. The fabric was soft and carefully stitched, and the Eridians had decorated it with tiny patterns that Grace suspected had taken considerable effort. The problem was that none of those things changed what it was. It was still, unmistakably, a skirt. Grace searched desperately for something diplomatic that would not hurt the seamstress's feelings, because they were clearly extremely proud of their accomplishment.

"That's..." He hesitated, looking between the garment and the expectant Eridians. "...very nice."

The seamstresses brightened immediately.

"Then human savior wears now. We want to hear."

Grace looked down at the skirt, then at the Eridians, and finally back at the skirt. He could already feel his dignity preparing to leave his body.

"Of course."

He took it and awkwardly put it on and figured out how it was supposed to sit around his waist. The process was considerably more clumsy than a garment with a single hole to put on demanded, especially considering that the Eridians managed to make it affeter so many  attempts.

When he finally had it on, Grace straightened himself and tried not to think too hard about the fact that he was standing in front of several aliens wearing a skirt they had made specifically for him.

The skirt was long and really well made. It fitted around his waist perfectly, and the material fell almost all the way to his ankles, moving softly whenever he shifted his weight. Despite being comfortable it felt too breezy and reveling, Grace felt terribly exposed. He tried to hold the instinct that demanded he placed his hands in front of himself and gather the fabric between his legs as if that would somehow make the situation less embarrassing. 

"Grace savior sounds nice. Fitting is good. Main problem with Eridian first clothes was fitting. Grace said fitting very important." They said happy. 

"Yes, and you did very well," Grace assured them. "It fits perfectly. It's just..."

"What problem? Stitch will fix issue."

"No, no, it's not that." Grace took a deep breath and looked toward Rocky, hoping desperately that his friend would understand what he was trying to explain. Rocky, unfortunately, remained completely still. He knew human social norms. He knew exactly what Grace was talking about. Instead Rocky decided that this was entertaining enough to watch. Traitor.

"Look, Stitch, humans have this thing called gender, and it kind of dictates the clothes we wear."

"Yes. Stitch aware. Very aware that have to leave loose fabric when doing undergarment for reproductive organ because savior Grace male."

Grace's soul briefly attempted to leave his body. He really, really did not want to have that conversation again.

"Right. Well, in that same way, males don't usually wear skirts. That's considered something females wear. And I'm male."

Stitch rocked back and forth thoughtfully, apparently processing the information. "Is that anatomical problem like with reproductive organ, or is fashion thing?"

"No. There are no anatomical problems with it. It's a cultural thing." Grace paused, realizing that he was going to have to explain several thousand years of complicated human gender expectations to an alien civilization that had no equivalent concept. 

"Skirts are considered feminine because people decided they make women look prettier, and they're supposedly harder to move around in, and women usually don't move around as much—wait, no, that's not even true." He stopped and rubbed a hand over his face. "Sorry. I'm explaining myself very poorly. There are no laws saying men can't wear skirts. Males just don't usually wear them, and dresses are considered strange for men. Not bad, necessarily. Just... unusual."

Stitch's limbs continued their rhythmic tapping against the floor as they considered this explanation. Grace had the uncomfortable feeling that the conversation was moving in a directions he was incapable of controlling.

"If not wrong, then Grace should wear," Stitch finally said. "Make Grace pretty."

"Well, I don't know if it makes me pretty."

"Yes, it does," Rocky said.

Grace's head snapped toward him. Rocky had finally decided to participate, and the amusement in his tones was unmistakable. "Grace looks very good like this."

"I..." Grace looked down at the skirt again, suddenly feeling much more self-conscious than before. "Well, if you say so. I never thought I would wear something like this."

"Then decided. Savior Grace will get more skirts. Savior Grace should wear what he wants. Erid has no gender norms. Grace now free."

"When you put it like that, I guess you're right." Grace looked down again, smoothing the fabric absently between his fingers. "It'll take some getting used to, but alright. The breeziness down there is kind of strange, but the skirt is really pretty."

"Good," Stitch said. "Next we learn how to make dresses."

Grace's head shot up. "Wait, what?!"

But it was already too late. Stitch was heading toward the airlock, presumably with every intention of returning to the portable thinking machine and beginning the next stage of the Eridian fashion revolution.

"I just really wanted some jeans," Grace muttered mournfully.

Rocky began to chitter beside him.

"It's not funny. Dresses aren't going to look good on me. I'm just bones. I don't have curves."

"Rocky and Adrian fix. No problem. Grace needs more Eridian jewelry. Will tell Stitch and other clothes makers."

Grace turned toward him in disbelief. "Rocky, I thought you were my friend. You know how badly I want something that actually fits me."

"Rocky, Grace's best friend, will make sure Grace is pretty."

With that, Rocky left the dome as well, leaving Grace standing alone in the middle of the room.

"Traitor" Grace muttered.

The truly embarrassing part was that the Eridians were right about one thing: the skirts were pretty, and they were very, very comfortable. Grace hated admitting it, particularly after spending so much time insisting that he would rather wear trousers, but there was something incredibly pleasant about not having fabric constricting his legs, the flow of air and fabric against his legs was very nice once he got used to it.

The Eridian material was soft, light, and surprisingly warm, and the longer skirts moved naturally when he walked. He had expected to spend his entire time wearing them feeling awkward and exposed, but after several days he found himself forgetting about them entirely. It was only when he caught his reflection in a polished surface or noticed one of the Eridians staring at his clothes with obvious pride that he remembered he was wearing something that would have caused him considerable embarrassment back on Earth.

Then the seamstresses began adding jewelry, at Rocky's request, and that was where Grace finally surrendered.

Eridian jewelry was beautiful. The seamstresses incorporated small polished pieces of material into the fabric, attaching them around the waist and along the edges of the skirts. Some hung loosely enough to move when Grace walked, producing soft little sounds that followed him through the dome. Others were woven directly into the fabric, catching the light in ways Grace had never expected. He began to notice that the combination of the flowing fabric and the jewelry made him sound almost like one of the Eridians himself. He liked that more than he probably should have. There was something comforting about looking less like an alien visitor and more like someone who belonged on Erid.

Rocky noticed the change immediately.

"You like the skirt."

Grace sighed. "Maybe."

"And the jewelry."

"it´s kinda pretty "

"You have worn the same skirt three days in succession."

“You´ve been counting??”

“wanted to make sure Grace liked it and… felt pretty" 

“Aww you care Rocky”

"Maybe," Rocky replied.

Grace laughed despite himself. "You're impossible."

"I believe Stitch is pleased."

"They're smug."

"They successfully identified a garment you enjoy."

Grace looked down at his skirt and then at the small ornaments attached to it. He ran his fingers over one of them before smiling despite himself. 

"They do make some fine clothes."

Eventually, the Eridian seamstresses learned trousers, then shirts, and even jackets. Human clothing slowly became less mysterious as they learned more about Grace's anatomy and figured out how to translate Earth designs into something they could actually manufacture on Erid. 

Grace finally got his jeans, although the first few attempts were still somewhat questionable, and eventually he had an entire collection of clothes that actually fit him properly. The skirts, however, remained their favorite things to make. Whenever Grace visited the workshop, there was almost always another one waiting for him, each different from the last: different lengths, different patterns, different decorations, and increasingly elaborate pieces of Eridian jewelry attached to them. By then, Grace had stopped protesting. He had even started giving them suggestions.

When he finally arrived one morning wearing one of his favorite skirts with a decorated belt and several pieces of Eridian jewelry, the seamstresses gathered around him with obvious satisfaction. They clicked happily as they examined their handiwork, and Grace found himself smiling as he looked down at the clothes he was wearing. The fabric moved comfortably around his legs, the jewelry chimed softly whenever he walked, and for once he did not feel like he was wearing something alien. It felt like something that belonged to him.

"Human savior has been enjoying our clothing," one of the seamstresses observed. "A lot."

Grace looked at them with a soft smile.

Materials:

Thin nails (to keep the jacket pinned and in place)

A bar of soap (to paint on the fabric)

Measuring tape

Cardboard inside the jacket to keep everything sturdy

Secretly, Rocky would have named it Grace, their star savior, in the same way Grace was his savior. But that felt a bit too much and embarrassing. Instead, he settled for listening to Grace's breathing and that content little hum he made whenever he was feeling pensive.

Grace did all the experimentation because Rocky knew nothing about biology, but watching Grace perform human science was enthralling, and that was all that mattered. When he was done, Grace measured the amount of astrophage in each sample.

“It's the same amount. It makes no sense.” Grace turned the digital meter toward Rocky. The screen showed the same reading.

“Makes no sense. Should be double astrophage. Go to Adrien to breed.”

“I know, buddy. It's either not reproducing, or it's not leaving the planet.”

They did more experiments. Grace put the sample under a microscope, a thing that magnified tiny things, and suddenly he gasped as he peered down at it.

“Oh my God.”

“What is it?” Rocky was immediately worried.

“Life. There is life.” Grace turned the monitor toward Rocky.

“What does this mean?”

“There's a whole ecosystem here, like on Erid or Earth. There's life on Adrien.”

Goodness. Impossible. No way. No way. No way.

Rocky trembled. He knew there was more life outside Erid; Grace himself was proof of that. But discovering it like this, finding something that had never been seen before... it was new. Rocky couldn't help but screech.

“LIFE IS REASON!”

There was life. An ecosystem. A life cycle. A food chain. A predator. Organisms that fed on astrophage like any other living creature. Oh, God. Oh God. Oh God.

“Rocky, what are—”

“Life is reason, mate. Life is reason.”

“I don't follow that. What are you trying to tell me?” Grace was shaking too, though for a very different reason. Rocky paused, trying to find the words.

“There is predator on Adrien.”

“Why didn't you say so?!”

“If we bring it to our planets, Rocky and Grace save stars.”

“Yes! Yes, we can do that. God, Rocky, you are so smart.”

Rocky couldn't help but preen. Happy hums and chitters escaped him.

They hatched a plan to reach Tau Ceti e's atmosphere and gather a sample. They couldn't leave orbit and simply descend into the planet; if they ventured too far into the atmosphere, the Hail Mary would break. The ship wasn't made for reentries, which rubbed Rocky the wrong way, but right now he couldn't think about it. Saving the stars took precedence.

“We need to reach the atmosphere. That's where the breeding grounds are, but we can't go that far down.”

Grace was bouncing a ball against his enclosure like an overexcited pebble. It was really endearing to watch him this happy and enthusiastic.

“I make chain. We go fishing. Attach predator collector to chain end.”

“You can do that, Rock, 5km?”

“Yes. Look.”

Rocky pulled out the few chain links he had already made.

“Rocky, you're a genius.”

“I know,” Rocky bragged.

During this time, Grace gave him the necklace. The crystal wasn't even in a proper setting. Oh, he was going to have so much fun designing and creating all their matching jewelry.

The first thing he did was remove the wire, careful not to damage it. He noticed how light it was and how soft and malleable the metal was, he would try and replicate it. The first step was to polish the crystal and then frame it with xenonite, similar to how Grace had the pendant surrounded by it, making sure it would chime whenever it touched something, at least by Eridian standards.

Rocky wanted to start with the necklace and devote all of his efforts toward it, but they had to build a chain to save their planets.

The next days were rather miserable. With how many chain links they needed, it took them an entire week. It wasn't as awful for Rocky, who had several more limbs than Grace and was an engineer, but mate Grace had a lot of trouble. He couldn't even sit still for long enough.

They discussed how to fish. Mate Grace said he would just go outside, grab the ball, launch it, and retrieve it. Rocky was not happy about that in the slightest. Mate should not go into the silent space. Even while they skirted its atmosphere, the void was still very scary, and Rocky did not want mate to die.

They discussed it for a long time. In the end, there was no other way. Rocky complained, but not without checking everything on Grace's suit.

“Rocky will allow mate to go outside if Rocky can check and improve space suit.” Rocky stood proudly on all of his legs, face to carapace with Grace. Humans valued eye contact a lot, even if Rocky had no eyes.

“Okay, that's fair. If there's something wrong, tell me.”

“Rocky will tell and fix. Rocky will make sure mate is safe no matter what. But Grace needs to learn how to pilot first.” Grace's head fell, and he groaned.

Rocky liked hearing that noise.

They spent another week learning how to pilot, while Rocky got enough time to finish securing the predator collector and the necklace, a tricky thing to do because it had to be a surprise.

Luckily there wasn't anything wrong with the suit. 

“Okay, Rock. I'm ready.”

Grace had his suit on. He was waving his arms and exhaling lots of air, apparently trying to de-stress himself.

Everything was ready. The spools of chain and the collector were on the ship's hull. Grace's skills as a pilot were as good as they were going to get, and Rocky had tested and fine-tuned everything to the millimeter.

It was time.

They settled into a low orbit, close to the atmosphere and at just the right angle. It was the best performance Grace had managed while piloting the ship to date. Rocky would have been proud if it weren't for the anxiety crawling up his limbs.

“Good.”

“Yes. It's now or never.”

Rocky dropped the collector.

“Three thousand meters. Good connection,” Rocky measured.

“Okay. Now is the fun part.”

“Going out to get collector no fun. Rocky not want mate Grace out alone.”

“It's a joke.”

“Rocky not like humor right now. Promise Rocky mate Grace will come back.”

He was desperate and whiny, and he didn't care. Grace was much more important. So much more important that, if he could, Rocky would change places with him. He was sturdier than Grace, and Rocky would die before watching anything bad happen to him.

Grace looked at him. He knew that, if Rocky were human, they would be holding some serious eye contact. As it was, Rocky could only listen in the most earnest way possible.

Rocky had finished the necklace, burning a hole into its side on the pouch where he kept it hidden.

“Rocky, I promise you I'm going to make it back. I swear. I'll come back to you no matter what.”

Grace grabbed the sides of the xenonite Rocky was standing at, and slowly, with reverence, he placed his forehead against the xenonite at Rocky's height.

Rocky pressed back just as carefully.

Grace's mouth moved, but no sound came out.

For the first time, Rocky desperately wished he could see. He wanted to know what Grace had silently told him. He wanted to picture Grace's face forever, to capture every skin wrinkle and muscle twitch, to listen to all those hidden details.

He listened to Grace leave, all the way to the airlock, before focusing his attention on Mary's readings.

“Oh God.”

“What is problem? Grace okay?!”

“Yes. It's just... the air is on fire.”

Grace went out through the airlock and carefully navigated the ship's hull until he reached the chain.

There were so many things Rocky wanted to tell Grace. How smart he was. How funny. How handsome. How he was the whole reason Rocky hadn't given up. How much Rocky wanted to hold him forever.

But Grace wasn't ready for the entirety of Rocky's love, and he could not distract Grace from the mission.

So he settled for:

“Words of encouragement.”

“You can't just say that.”

“Great words of encouragement. Love.” He knew Grace didn't know the word, but it felt right.

Grace reached the chain and managed to take the collector.

The ship shook.

Rocky whined. He was so very afraid for Grace.

“I have the collector,” Grace announced through the intercom.

“Amaze, amaze, amaze. Come back now.” Rocky demanded

Then Mary beeped.

“Losing altitude.”

Rocky's stomach dropped.

“Mate Grace needs to come back now! Losing altitude!”

“I know. I saw.”

There was so much dread in Grace's voice that Rocky trembled on his spot, unable to help.

There was a camera on Mary's hull where Grace was walking by, and Rocky saw something knock into him. He hadn't heard it, he didn't warn Grace.

Grace went down like a sack of rocks.

The collector flew off, and Grace lay motionless on the hull.

Dead.

Rocky panicked.

“Grace. Grace, Grace, please, please, please. Mate needs to get up.”

“I'm... I'm okay.”

“Mate injured. Answer!”

“No, no. I just, I need to get the collector.”

Mary beeped again.“Elevated heat signatures.”

Rocky trilled anxiously. Humans couldn't handle heat. Their fragile bodies couldn't withstand those temperatures. Rocky should be the one out there. He could handle the temperature. Things could knock into him and he would be much sturdier. He had more limbs to grab onto the hull.

Rocky sang a sad song into the intercom. He couldn't help it. He was worried.

“Forget the collector. Come back inside.”

“I need to get it.”

“Grace, forget about it. Mate will die. We try later.”

“Rocky, I don't think there's going to be another chance.”

“Grace not die. Please come back.”

“I said I was coming back to you, didn't I? Trust me Rocky.”

There was so much faith and earnestness in Grace's voice that Rocky had to believe him, because otherwise it would kill him.

“Grace, come back. Please.”

Grace let go.

He flew through the hull into the silent void, and Rocky screamed so loudly that his voice went rough, arms knocking into the xenonite.

“GRACE WILL DIE! NO! NOOO!”

Grace held onto the collector's ball, flailing in the scorching nothingness of space. The thing that had knocked into Grace went down, and the pull made Grace rise. He was now on top of the hull again.

Rocky warbled, claws tapping everywere.

There was a pained yell coming from Grace as the rope securing him to the hull pulled on his arm. He cut the rope. He was untethered in space.

Rocky cried out, distressed.

Grace made it inside. He dropped the collector in the airlock and climbed after it. The relief hit Rocky so hard he felt woozy.

“Where is that noise coming from?” Grace yelled over the cacophony of beeping machines, frantic alarms, and the deep thumping noises coming from inside Mary.

“Noise coming from everywhere, but harder from dormitory.”

“The gravity is tearing the ship apart.”

“Bad, bad, bad. We need to leave.”

“Affirmative.” 

Grace climbed into the pilot's chair, strapped himself in, and pushed the thrusters to maximum capacity.

Mary blared, “Increased pressure hull.”

“That's no good. Bad, bad, bad.”

“I know.”

“Mate, do something!”

“It's the fuel deposits. I need to concentrate.”

Rocky fell silent.

He didn't want to aggravate Grace, especially after such a stressful moment, but he remained anxious, warbling worried noises under his breath. Still, he let Grace maneuver.

He couldn't focus  on anything. There was too much noise, and he couldn't picture Grace as clearly as he would have liked. It troubled him.

Finally, they exited the atmosphere and pulled out of the planet's orbit.

“Wow. Okay. We did it, Rock,” Grace cheered. “I told you I would come back to you.”

“Yes. Rocky very happy to have Grace back and predator collector.”

He did some jazz hands and happy trills. He was basking in Grace's smile when his face turned. Rocky noticed the texture-pad gun clank against the xenonite wall.

That shouldn't happen.They were in zero gravity.

Suddenly, Grace's pilot chair was violently pulled to the right, and Rocky crashed against the xenonite again. He let out a pained trill. Grace looked at him, confused, his own terror staring back at him.

“Why ship moving? Question.”

“There is a hole in it.” Grace slid further away from Rocky. “The fuel is escaping toward Adrien.”

“Eject fuel deposits!”

“Yes, I'm on it.”

Grace stretched. He made struggling noises, and Rocky could barely focus with all the noise going around them. They ejected one of the fuel deposits. The force sent them flying to the other side.

Mary blared, “Excessive centrifugal force.” Rocky couldn't help all the worried noises coming from him. Grace reached, with the tip of his finger, the last button.Then hell.

The Hail Mary spun out of control. The disengagement jolted them painfully to the side before crushing them forward.

Rocky crashed against the xenonite wall. It was painful, but not detrimental. The pressure was more harmful. In the midst of it all, Rocky heard it.

Crash.

Crunch.

The noise was organic. Wet. Absolutely horrifying. Rocky knew something inside Grace had broken. Something solid had shattered. And that was what drove Rocky into panic.

“Grace.”

“Grace!”

“GRACE!!”

No response.

For the first time ever, the world was truly silent for Rocky. His only focus was Grace.

He listened.

A heartbeat.

Grace was alive.

Then Grace's eyes fluttered open.

Rocky didn't think he had ever seen Grace's face in such horrific detail. Blood poured from the cuts across his face. His features were distorted by the accumulated blood, and his nose was caved in. Broken.

Rocky feared that, without a nose, Grace would suffocate to death, unable to breathe.

Grace reached with one trembling hand toward the controls. The centrifuge control would counteract the extreme centrifugal force.

Rocky tried to encourage him with trilling noises.

The force was too much. So much so that Rocky could hear the way Grace's blood was moving toward one side of his body. He could hear his breathing slow and his heartbeat weaken. His arm fell. 

He yelled in every tone and frequency he could.

“Grace! Grace, Grace, please, please, please don't die! GRACE!”

“Grace please” he soobed.

Grace was wholly unresponsive, dead to the world, if it weren't for the fact that Rocky could still hear his heartbeat, he would have tough him dead.

They were going to die.

The realization settled over Rocky with more weight than the centrifugal force crushing them.

He needed to hit that switch. If they didn't activate the false gravity, they were going to die.

He had to hit that switch. Grace couldn't.

And Rocky refused to let his soulmate and love die.

No one else was going to die on his watch.

Adrenaline and resolve coursed through him. He punched the xenonite with all his might. One hit two on the third hit, it broke. His carapace bleed.

It was cold. So terribly cold, and at the same time, it burned like hell.

Agony.

He scratched at the controls. He could barely handle it , but Grace needed him. He turned the switch and pulled the lever.

The relief from the centrifugal force did nothing to alleviate his pain, but Grace was no longer being crushed against Mary's panels.

The blood began returning to his whole body.

Rocky unstrapped Grace from the pilot chair. He could hardly manage any finesse. He grabbed onto Grace's arm.

He had never regretted his wish to touch Grace, so much. The skin beneath his claw sizzled, warped, and popped under the extreme heat. Rocky dragged Grace with enough force not to crush the arm bone he was holding.

It was so cold.

So very cold.

He was shivering.

But Grace—Grace needed to get to Armando.

They reached Armando, and the robot wasted no time. It held Grace up and placed him into the bed, immediately administering all the medicine he needed.

But Grace wasn't waking up.

His eyes weren't opening.

Rocky would watch until Grace woke, even if it was the last thing he did.

“Grace. Love. Mate. Please wake.” He wailed. He was so loud and distressed that he didn't even know whether Grace's ears could hear him.

He took the pendant out of the pouch, his body trembling and limbs convulsing, but carefully settled it onto Grace's chest.

Grace woke.

His eyes were unfocused until they landed on Rocky.

The relief was so immense that all of Rocky's remaining strength left him.

He fell.

It burned so much.

It was so cold.

But Grace was alive.

The pain became unbearable.

Rocky ran for his airlock. He bumped into every wall and door on the way there, but he managed it.

There was no relief.

The pressure of his natural environment suddenly felt suffocating.

He fell to the floor, exhausted, bleeding, cold.

But Grace was alive.

That was all that mattered.

______________________

I'm really sorry for my absence! I was playing Mass Effect and it absolutely destroyed me, but I'm back now and returning to my old "schedule". I hope you're not mad and that you'll enjoy this new chapter!