Chapter Text
If you had to ask Adam how two strange men(?) appeared in his field one Thursday morning crawling out of a tube, sobbing and speaking incomprehensibly, he still wouldn’t have an answer to give.
Not one that made much sense, anyways.
It had been quite the lovely morning at that, if his memory served true. Rising from his slumber, the old farmer had gone down to his small kitchen and watched the sunrise while preparing the same breakfast he’d eaten for the past 20 years- toast with honey and orange juice. The sky was clear and though still half-hidden below the horizon, the sun’s rays were warm and vibrant. A beautiful day in late spring.
After feeding the goats, chickens, and his pig, Yammy, Adam took a short stroll through some new farmland he’d recently purchased. Large, rolling expanses of land, still in need of proper preparation before they could be used for growing crops. Long, untamed grasses and wildflowers grew, making for quite the pretty picture. Pretty didn’t pay for food and heating, though, so Adam made the arrangements necessary to have the natural flora removed. He was too old for much physical labor, anyhow.
Lunchtime was right around the corner, and Adam decided to have his meal out in the fields- might as well appreciate the beauty while it lasts. Cutting his ham and cheese sandwich into triangles, he poured himself a tall glass of milk; a lunch he’d enjoyed since childhood. Carrying the food carefully down to the edge of the grass, he settled himself down on a less wild patch and began to eat.
Taking another bite of his sandwich, Adam let his gaze meander about, observing the treeline and the sky above, flushed a rich blue that was occasionally paled by wispy clouds, streaking high up into the atmosphere.
Adam leaned back, taking a long sip from his milk and wiping away the faux mustache it left on his upper lip. He liked to watch for airplanes, specifically the tiny, itty bitty ones, the ones where you find it hard to even fathom that a human could be up there operating it. His sharp eyes found a dot- it was above the center of the grassy area, and so small that he congratulated himself for being able to see it from such a distance. And at his age? A feat.
Smiling in self-appreciation, he watched as the dot… grew larger? Adam squinted, the confidence in his eyesight waning. Don’t planes normally soar across the sky? As in, moving forward? This dot wasn’t moving forward at all- it actually seemed to be moving downwards . And it kept increasing in size.
Adam could make out a color now. Red. Red and something shiny- maybe silver? It was coming down fast, and looked cylindrical in shape. Like a tube, or a large pill.
Placing the sandwich down on his plate and rising from where he’d taken a seat, confusion and fascination raced around Adam’s mind. This was like a comic book almost- a thing out of science fiction. That, or this tube was a bomb and Adam was about to get blown to high heaven. Since the old man was luckily far away from any sort of major town or military establishment, he greatly doubted the latter.
The capsule was so close now, Adam could make out its size. It wasn’t giant- maybe about 4 feet around, and 6-7 feet tall? He wasn’t incredible with numbers, but it looked big enough to hold a man, maybe two if they squished.
Tracking the cylinder, Adam wondered if it’d hit the ground. It seemed on a crash course, never wavering from its freefall. The farmer held his breath and counted down the seconds till impact.
5…
4…
3…
2…
1…
THUD
The capsule struck the earth like the mighty blow of a blacksmith’s hammer. It bounced, surprisingly, before slowly rolling to a stop. Adam felt a little shell shocked- brushing it off, he quickly jogged over to the tube, wheezing slightly from the exertion. And also maybe out of relief that it wasn’t a bomb.
Staying a safe distance back, the man studied the container. Yes, it was red and silver, and small wisps of steam wafted off of its rapidly cooling body.
Before Adam could step closer, there was suddenly a bit of the metal peeling itself away. Wait- no, it wasn’t peeling. There were hinges, a creaking noise.
A door was being opened.
Adam stayed completely silent. Whatever was inside that thing was now exiting, and he didn’t know if he wanted to stick around out of curiosity, or bolt out of fear.
Adam had never been one to fear, and so he held strong, observing cautiously. An arm emerged from the interior of the pod, reaching around almost frantically before connecting with the soil. The arm gained purchase and pushed down.
Attached to the arm was a body. Something that looked like a person clambered out of the machine, ungraceful and apparently astonished. Adam felt some tension release from his shoulders- at least it wasn’t an alien.
The man who’d emerged had his back to Adam, yet the old farmer could still see the wonder on his face as he took in his surroundings. Pure enchantment. It was perplexing, but nevertheless, Adam opened his mouth and prepared to ask this younger man a question.
He was promptly cut off by a small, incredulous laugh, and the young brunet turned excitedly back to the tube, tugging at something inside. Adam watched as another man- so there really had been room for two- shakily emerged, this one older than the first. He too looked around, and then looked at the younger, apprehensive but relieved.
He muttered something, something Adam couldn’t quite make out- it sounded a bit like “We’re free,” which, given that the two beings had just climbed out of a vessel so small it could not have been comfortable, made sense. Then the two men embraced, tears falling fast as they clung to each other.
Adam felt… uncomfortable, to say the least. Here were these two random men, crying in the middle of his field, after crash landing in a metal tube. And they hadn’t even acknowledged him? Although, they probably didn’t know he was there…
Stuck between letting the two continue on or alerting them to his presence, Adam decided to clear his throat- he didn’t want to ruin the moment, but he didn’t have all day.
The pair jumped back at the “A-hem,” that came from behind them, both whipping their heads around; the older looked terrified, the younger… a little abashed.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you two- even though y’all interrupted my lunch first, but would you mind explaining why and how you fellas fell out of the sky and landed in my field?”
The pair just stared back at Adam, until the brunet nudged his partner and gave him an expecting look.
“Oh! Yes, I forgot- apologies, sir, my… friend, here, is mute. Would you please tell us where we are? And- ah, as for how we ‘fell out of the sky and landed in your field’, I believe there is a natural phenomenon that humans commonly refer to as gravity-”
The Brit (how did a British man get all the way over in Adam’s part of the country?) was cut off by his ‘friend’ pinching him in the arm.
“Ow! Stanley, what was that for? I was just explaining to this elderly man about our situation-”
The younger man, or ‘Stanley’, moved his hands about him- Adam recognized it as sign language, and though he himself was far from fluent, Adam picked up a couple words here and there. ‘Too’, ‘people’, and ‘normal’ were all he could decipher- the brunet was signing quicker than Adam read.
“Look, I think my main question is, are y’all alright? That was quite a fall- can I get you anything? Are ya injured?” However lost he felt, Adam wasn’t without a heart. This odd pair fell from what must have been tens of thousands of feet up- and though his memory was fading as the years passed, he was pretty sure humans weren’t fit to survive such a drop.
“Oh, yes, we’re both functioning splendidly, I’m sure. Wait a minute, actually, I never checked… how are you feeling, Stanley? Are you hurt? Here, let me see-”
The older man started fussing over the younger, but Mr. Stanley only laughed and stood up, still looking dazed, but healthy.
“Do y’all have a ride? This here field- well, the entire farm, actually- is a ways away from anybody, ‘cept me and my Yammy.” Adam figured that this strange British gentleman and his mute companion couldn’t deal much harm. They weren’t dressed for crime anyhow- Mr. Stanley wore a sterile, uniform-type outfit, like an office worker.
Adam never liked offices. Having to sit in a stuffy little cubicle, slaving away at a desk, the only exposure to the outdoors being a dead succulent in the corner and *maybe* a window, if one was lucky. They were so restricting .
His outfit wasn’t the only thing that was plain, however- the whole man looked so unbelievably typical. Short brown hair, brown eyes, not too tall or short. It was doubly shocking, to see such normalcy coexisting with someone who looked so… abnormal.
The Brit looked like he belonged in a posh uptown brownstone, rather than a field full of wildflowers- he wore a blazer, deep brown slacks and shiny shoes, and whilst they had rumpled slightly, Adam could tell that the clothing was expensive. A pair of golden glasses perched upon the bridge of his nose, and a tie matching in color with the patch of goldenrods the group was currently knee-deep in had draped itself over one shoulder. The man’s eyes were… interesting , to say the least. In all his years of living, Adam had never seen eyes that matched the color of clouds at sunset- bright and golden.
Yes, an intriguing duo, but harmless all the same. Mr. Stanley reached out a hand to help his counterpart up- Adam took note of the way the elder stumbled and held on tightly to the younger’s forearm.
“We- do we have a- Stanley, what’s a ‘ride’ again?” Another interaction via sign language. “Oh, a motorized vehicle! In that case, no, unless we could get the escape pod to-” A tug of the arm. A look. Adam was confused by yet invested in their silent communication; though he never married himself, he had only seen that type of understanding in married couples, or friends who had spent so much of their life together that they could practically read each other’s minds.
“Well, Mr…?”
“The name’s Adam. What might yours be?”
“Oh, have I not introduced myself? How impolite of me, I apologize. My name is the Narra-”
At this, his partner tugged his arm so hard the Brit almost fell.
“Gah- ow! Stanley, there’s no need to be so rough-” Some fast, aggressive signing. “Wha- what do you mean, it’s not a ‘proper name’? What constitutes a name anyways?” Mr. Stanley looks annoyed. “Well, what should I go by then, if my name is oh so horrible?” More signing. “Oh, Stanley, I really don’t know why I asked you, that’s an awful name. I think I’ll go by Nigel, that has a nice ring to it, does it not?”
The older of the two turned back to Adam, who was now feeling out of his depth.
“My name is Nigel! Oh, that feels strange, but not too bad. Just new. It’s fantastic to meet you, Adam.”
Adam shook his head. Maybe this was just how all British people behaved.
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Despite his better judgment, Adam found himself inviting the strangers into his home, and was now standing at the stove making lunch for the two of them. An odd pair for certain, but courteous enough.
There was something about the duo, Adam thought, as he flipped over one of the grilled cheeses, wrinkling his nose in frustration as he realized that the sizzling sounds of the butter had misguided him, and the bread was still white, the cheese unmelted. Something strange- the man who went by Nigel appeared to be polite, but his actions were almost clinical. Like he was performing, putting himself through the proper motions. As he aged, Adam had developed a skill that came only with time- the ability to observe and deduce accurately.
It was a skill possessed by few, which is why the great detectives and heroes of fiction, like Sherlock Holmes or Batman, were so revered in their abilities. It took years of meeting others, taking note of common humane actions and choices. A skill that honestly made meeting new people boring at times- you already knew all about them, before they even approached.
As the years whittled by, Adam’s ability was at its peak about fifteen years ago, when he interacted with others on the regular. Now, after all these years of isolation, it had dimmed significantly.
And still, the old man was both perplexed and enamored by Mr. Nigel and Mr. Stanley. Absentmindedly turning another cheesy triangle, he realized that one of the reasons why Mr. Nigel seemed so off to him was because he didn’t do any of these small human gestures.
Again, Adam thought that he acted a bit like a performer. Something would be happening- a typical, day to day event, like Adam accidentally touching a hot pan, hissing and recoiling from the burn- and all of a sudden he’d flap his hands in excitement, gushing to Mr. Stanley about ‘Oh! I’ve read up on this, Stanley, just watch! To treat a burn, you are required to run your hand under cool water until-’ and then his partner would tug or pinch him, looking apologetic if he had done so too harshly, sign a few sentences, and the conversation would return to normal.
Even though it was becoming increasingly obvious that nothing about these fellows was ‘normal’.
Dragging himself out of his own head, the farmer pulled two plates from his cabinet and placed them on the table, using a spatula to pick up the grilled cheeses and put them on the plates, in front of the two.
“I sure hope you fellas enjoy colby jack, cause these here sandwiches are loaded with it.” Adam reclined back in his chair, congratulating his past self on not throwing away the spare chairs he kept in his cellar- he would never forgive himself if his guests had to sit on the floor.
“Stanley, what is a ‘colby jack’?” Adam heard Mr. Nigel ask, before tuning out the conversation. He would have to drive the two the 80 miles to the nearest town himself, and wasn’t looking forward to the trip. He was old, and though toughened mentally, it was no doubt that his physical health was in decline.
His attention was soon recaptured by Mr. Nigel’s squeal of surprise. “Stanley!” the strange individual gasped around a mouthful of bread. “Stanley, look at this! It’s… stretching! Oh, why is it doing that?”
Ah, so it was- the sign of a good grilled cheese, when the outside was crispy and the inside was gooey. Strings of melted colby jack were suspended between the older man’s mouth and lunch- Mr. Stanley reached over and gently took the meal out of Mr. Nigel’s hands, pulling it back far enough for the cheese to detach itself.
Stifling a chuckle, Adam shook his head at the bizarre men. Sure, they had done and said some confusing things, but as far as he knew,neither held any ill intent.
Ah, young people. Who really understands them?
The pair finished their lunch, and soon Adam was driving down the highway with both in the backseat (Mr. Stanley had wanted to sit in the front, but Mr. Nigel had complained about getting lonely, and also about being nervous inside a car. Adam had laughed to himself at the comment- the man could fall from airplane-cruising altitudes, but didn’t like car rides? Interesting).
The drive… wasn’t as bad as Adam had first dreaded. Given that it wasn’t night, there weren’t a lot of people on the road, and the men in the backseat were relatively quiet, save for Mr. Nigel’s quick breaths when they sped up, or the occasional hum from Mr. Stanley.
After the occasional stop for gas or two, Adam dropped the men off at a small inn in town. Waving his goodbyes, he turned the key in the ignition and turned around, ready to drive all the way back home. The two stayed on his mind for the rest of the evening, and the week, and month, and even as the years continued to droll on, the men would come to mind every now and then, whenever he ate a grilled cheese sandwich or caught sight of a goldenrod.
Adam had workers who had come to clear out the field help him move the pod that the visitors arrived in. He kept it right round the back of his house, and showed it to anyone who passed through, explaining that two odd men fell right into his field in this tube, and that one was mute and the other talked all the time. Some listened. Most thought he was senile.
And sometimes, Adam was allowed to speak for long enough periods that his language would devolve into more contemplative topics- such as what might've happened to the two. They seemed to comprehend one another on another level- a totally idiosyncratic pair, but a pair all the same.
At this, Adam would laugh and shake his head. Though speculation was fun, he knew that overall, it didn’t matter where those fellows ended up, it only mattered that they stuck together. To deeply understand another was a complex and almost unattainable concept, and from the little he’d seen, Adam guessed that nobody would be able to understand either man as they did each other.