Chapter Text
Simon may or may not remember his first few days on Erid, because he was pretty out of it for a while there.
However, Grace certainly remembers. He won’t ever forget the man blearily opening his eyes for the first time and asking Grace, “…are you an angel?” Before passing out, and repeating the same question the next subsequent wakings.
When he’d finally been able to be awake long enough to be offered some solid food, he’d eaten with tears in his eyes and repeatedly thanked Grace, calling him Angel yet again.
“I’m not an angel, though thank you, that’s very flattering.” Grace had said with a smile, “My name is Ryland Grace, but they usually just call me Grace around here— Ryland doesn’t have as easy of a translation in Eridian, and I’m sort of just used to it. What’s your name?”
Simon had stared at Grace for a few long moments before he seemed to realize what Grace had asked.
“…Simon. My name is Simon.”
“Alrighty, well Simon. I’m not entirely sure what happened to you, or how you ended up in a submarine on an asteroid…but we don’t need to get into that now if you don’t wanna.”
Simon had nodded slowly, a wary look in his eyes.
“…I’m… my words feel jumbled.”
“Understandable, you had quite a few symptoms of a concussion and oxygen deprivation on top of some mild radiation sickness. So, some confusion or amnesia is to be expected.”
“Hmmm.”
Grace has passed Simon a laptop, “Maybe typing the messages would be easier? Feel free to try. It’ll read out the messages aloud when you hit the submit button at the bottom of the text field.”
Simon had cautiously accepted the laptop like it had been made of glass, and tentatively pecked at the keys.
[“Are you sure you’re not an angel?”] the mechanical voice chirped over the tinny speakers, much to the bemusement of both Grace and Simon alike.
“Pretty sure buddy. No wings, no halo, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never owned a harp.”
Simon had chuckled.
Grace grinned, “I’m human, the only other one here actually— so… let’s rip the bandaid off right now, you’re not on Earth anymore.”
“Er?” Simon mumbled, and he hesitatingly typed a message on the laptop, [“I have never been on Earth.”]
Wow, okay— loads more questions now, divergent evolution? But that didn’t explain how Simon knew English (and thank goodness honestly, learning one alien language via point and translate was enough for one lifetime). Grace reigned himself in, shifting his focus on the most obvious next question.
“Uh, sorry, so where are you from then?”
[“Filament Station.”]
“Is…that a space station?”
“Yes?” Simon said, looking incredulous, his facial expression made it seem like Simon thought it a little ridiculous that I even had to ask that.
“Well… uh that’s not, I’ve never heard of Filament Station before…” Grace shook his head, “I’ll circle back to that later, right now we’re on the planet Erid— or I’m calling it that, because it’s the inhabited planet in the Eridian system, and I’m bad at names. The primary inhabitants of this planet, I’m calling them Eridians, imaginative, I know, built this biospheric orbital habitat for me.”
Honestly, it was becoming a bit of a ramble as Grace got going about astrophage, and the story about the Hail Mary and the Blip-A.
Simon is clearly riveted, eyes widening at the mention of Grace and Rocky working together to find the solution, and saving the dying stars.
He carefully picks out his message, pausing to backspace more than a few times, and Grace waits patiently. After suffering through all of his word vomit as he rehashes what amounts to his life’s story, he owes it to Simon to give him time to gather his own thoughts.
[“Saving the stars sounds like something an angel would do.”] Reads the message, but there’s a sardonic look on Simon’s face that conveys that he’s being a bit of a smart alec.
Grace playfully rolls his eyes, huffing out a laugh, “No angelic help sadly. Would have been nice, I’m sure. Any questions?”
Simon mulled that over for a few moments, drafting out his reply one keystroke at a time.
[“I probably have lots of questions I should be asking, but I’m tired, and my head still hurts.”] is what comes out of the laptop after a few false starts. It’s clear that Simon's energy is beginning to wane, and that he’ll need a bit longer to rest and recover.
“Fair, well if you think of anything you can ask me later, you need to rest pretty soon, and I know it’s a lot to take in.”
Simon nodded typing at his laptop, [“Sorry if you said earlier, what is your first name?”]
“Oh, it’s Ryland.”
[“Thank you Ryland.”]
“You’re very welcome Simon!”
Simon managed a weak smile, and Grace helped to set the laptop onto the nightstand and he fluffed up Simon’s pillows and helped him lay down more comfortably.
He quickly drifted back to unconsciousness, and to all appearances, a dreamless sleep.
Grace lingers to watch over Simon, who had obviously had a very rough go of it, covered in now healing injuries, and a half haunted and hunted look that even lingers on his face in his sleep.
Simon’s life has always been at the ‘mercy’ of systems that were broken well beyond any possible repair before he was even born.
Then the event, so massive and unthinkable, that the only seemingly proper name for it was The Quiet Rapture.
Life had become unfathomly worse, even more tenuous. Dashed upon the uncaring and now profoundly empty cosmos. Planets and the stars are gone, and their light is fading. Pale and washed. The artificial lights of the stations of Consolidation Of Iron generate some of the only new light.
Everything is the stations; recycled air, recycled water, ever more scarce resources.
Sand used to be the most abundant substance across the galaxy, crushed silicone was the simplest thing to source— so of course most stations didn’t have any in their storages, why waste the space?
And so why waste any of their now precious supplies of glass on Simon? Why give him a window on this welded shut tube of metal. He wouldn’t be able to see through the Blood Ocean anyway… and neither should the camera, now that Simon thinks about it, it doesn’t make sense that it worked.
Maybe it wasn’t a camera? Some sort of sonar? Maybe some sort of X-Ray? Maybe he’s being exposed to lethal amounts of radiation, not like he’s got any way to tell.
Not that it really matters how it works, Simon isn’t going to live long enough to worry about long term health consequences.
He’s been nauseous for what feels like days, and he’s thrown up a couple of times… but really; Simon would like to dare anyone to not be a little out of sorts in a cramped, dark, and leaking Blood Ocean submarine.
Regardless of whether or not there is also radiation poisoning on top of all that.
He’ll give himself a pass.
Simon never expected to be able to escape from this damned bloody death tube— the last thing he remembered was a flash of blinding light, then back into the copper liquid of certain death.
He should have died.
There was never a plan in place to retrieve him, he wasn’t worthy of the resources. He hadn’t even been worthy of the resources used to send him to his own death— the Iron Lung had been recycled from a previous mission that had also failed!
But apparently, there are forces beyond his mortal coil that conspired to save an entire other universe's stars— and somehow… Simon has found himself in an entirely different universe… and the savior of those stars, found him, and reached out to save a condemned convict.
There’s a halo of gold that seems to find itself in the light that reflects off the man’s blond hair… Simon spends a few confused, concussed, hazy hours, days maybe? He’s not sure convinced that the man is a literal angel… it doesn’t hurt that the man’s name is Grace.
Grace is a beautiful name.
Which, it becomes obvious later on, to be a bit of an oxymoron when it comes to the man’s speech and coordination.
Simon doesn’t remember much of his early life, but he’s fairly certain he cannot remember ever meeting anyone less graceful than this absolute clumsy (both socially and physically) mess of a man.
He’s cluttered in mind and possessions, but honestly Simon doesn’t have any sort of context for what is normal for this… world?
Oh yeah—This place still has planets, and—more importantly, this place still has its stars.
And Grace… and an alien? Apparently? A rocky crab looking creature, called Rocky. Grace picked the name as a translation for the mix of chords that make up the alien’s actual name.
Imaginative.
Regardless. Grace and Rocky had saved their respective stars from something that had been eating them.
Astrophage, according to Grace. Star Eaters, had they been what had vanished the stars of his own universe? Had his own universe been salvageable if only they had someone like Grace with the right smarts and equipment in order to somehow solve their own dead stars?
It’s not worth dwelling on. Simon isn’t even sure how he ended up here, let alone if it’s even possible to figure out a way back.
Or if Grace and the Eridians (Rocky’s people) would even have the inclination or ability to help a universe not their own.
Now, that isn’t at all a slight against them! The Eridians are clearly capable of a lot. They have set up a ginormous orbital ring biosphere entirely to comfortably house the savior of their own star.
And Grace is the whole reason the Eridians even have the capability or will to take care of a human in the first place.
If Grace hadn’t shown up before Simon, then regardless of the Eridians had still managed to hear the Iron Lung’s distress call, they wouldn’t have known enough about how to deal with humans in order to save him. Nor the time to figure him out, even if they had wanted to save him on their own…and if their star had still been actively dying, they would have bigger things to worry about.
Why waste the time and resources on a lone member of an alien species who couldn’t even contribute to their own care?
But hey, the biospheric ring is already set up, and they already have more knowledge than necessary for the care and wellbeing of humans… so Simon had not been much more of a consideration, outside of doubling the food and potable water…
Which… Simon is still having trouble wrapping his mind around.
Grace is willing to use the goodwill that he earned as the savior of Erid to have the Eridians devote whatever time and energy it takes to accommodate a whole other human, a stranger, who didn’t even fucking do anything to earn it.
The man says he’s not an angel, but he’s certainly the closest fucking thing to it that Simon has ever experienced.
Grace is generous in so many aspects, not stingy with his words or offered touches, both of which Simon greedily basks in.
His own words, when he can even fucking find them, grate painfully out of his throat. He just has so much he can’t convey with his rusty and wrecked voice. But Grace is kind… he’s so kind.
He gave Simon a laptop, and told him he can type out his words if that would be easier for him. He won’t mind, he’s used to adapting to differences in styles of communication.
And it is actually easier, because he’s got more time to form out his thoughts— unjumble the stray words that he can find— that he cannot convince to flow to his mouth with any coherence outside of the simplest of sentences.
It is much easier to return the touches Grace offers, as it is clear that the man needs the contact as much, if not more, than Simon does.
Grace has been without human contact much longer than Simon has, which is fucking saying something, but at least the company Grace did have during that long period of time was a darn sight more pleasant than what Simon had to endure… a low bar to clear, to be certain, but Simon is not going to rebuff Grace the comfort that he himself has been needing for… a while… he’s not quite sure how long.
Time sort of becomes an abstract concept when all the planets and stars vanish, and all that’s left is space stations and mysterious blood ocean moons.
But as nice as this universe seems…Simon isn’t sure exactly, about anything.
There’s no guarantees in any universe as far as he’s concerned.
Grace may be the kindest and most generous fucking person ever; but the fact still stands that all the hospitality currently being extended to Simon only exists because of Grace. The Eridians certainly have no fucking real reason to keep Simon comfortable or alive, outside of him being convenient human company for Grace.
If Grace were to one day decide he didn’t want Simon around, what use would the Eridians have for an extra human that they owe nothing to? Outside of a scientific experimental lab rat?
Simon certainly doesn’t deserve any of the good treatment that Grace has.
He’s only currently benefiting from proximity… from the treatment that Grace is properly due, in a habitat made for the savior of their planet.
Simon couldn’t have earned this sort of treatment for himself if given hundreds of lifetimes.
He’s not sure what precisely Grace expects from him, he seems content enough for now for Simon to be a sounding board— that occasionally manages to scrap a couple of coherent sentences together to respond somewhat intelligently.
That and the friendly touches.
High fives, fist bumps, hugs— he really likes the hugs, or as Rocky might say; really really really.
The hugs go on so long, it’s really more like brief bouts of cuddling— but without labeling it as such because…
Because….
Well, Simon isn’t sure. Something about saying that they’re cuddling just… makes his heart clench funny, pangs in his chest of something else he couldn’t possibly have earned.
It’s just that he’s the only other human here.
So he’s Grace’s only option to fulfill his need for human interaction.
If Grace had a choice?
He certainly wouldn’t be cuddling with someone like Simon.
Convict.
Butcher
He resolves himself; whatever is left of his life, he owes entirely to Grace…
So whatever Grace wants out of Simon, regardless of what that is, Simon is going to do his fucking best to give it to him.
All he is now is at the mercy of yet another system… This system is leagues more pleasant than anything the C.O.I had managed to cobble together. Entirely set up to support and surround Grace.
And… in at least one aspect, Grace has so far lived up to his name.
Grace watched over Simon those first few days, he doesn’t know yet how aware Simon was at the time, nor how much the man remembered now that he’d recovered full consciousness for more than a few dazed fitful minutes at a time.
He’d definitely had a concussion, and mild radiation sickness… and he’d been covered in blood (not his own, which— Grace wasn’t entirely sure made it better or worse.) the sheer volume of which baffled Grace and the Eridians evaluating Simon and his submarine.
Simon had babbled something about drowning in a blood ocean, but Grace isn’t sure if the man is being metaphorical, hyperbolic, or if he means an actual ocean's level of blood.
Given the aforementioned coating of blood on Simon and in the interior of his submarine, Grace isn’t exactly ruling anything out; even if it seems equally unbelievable as it is horrifying.
He’s more used to learning that there’s more possibilities out in the vastness of space than years of Earth-based science would have him believe (take that Goldilocks zone theory!)
Grace is willing to hear Simon’s story out if/when the man feels up to sharing it. As tempting as it would be to push for more information now, Simon might not want to talk about it at all— ever.
And pushing too hard (or too soon) for what seems like would be a very traumatic story out of a complete stranger would probably only cause more damage and mistrust than bring forward any answers.
Whatever happened to Simon, it had him experiencing pretty horrific nightmares. Poor guy, according to Armando his sleeping schedule was abysmal.
The Eridians on biosphere duty had all offered to watch Simon sleep, and Grace had explained how that it was a big cultural thing for them, but Simon had rebuffed all offers.
Grace himself had thought to offer, because maybe it was just being watched by aliens that Simon had the objection to, which would be completely understandable. It had taken Grace weeks to get used to the idea of Rocky watching him sleep, and that had only been sped along by forced proximity.
But, Grace wasn’t entirely sure that Simon would be comfortable being vulnerable to him either, and didn’t want to insist on a point that he’d already turned away the Eridian’s for— make Simon think he has to accept that someone has to watch over him.
He’d barely accepted that Armando the Nannybot would be constantly monitoring his vitals anytime he was in the cabin, but there was literally no way to make the health protocols ignore a living human who was within its sensor range— short of breaking it.
So when Simon did manage to sleep, he did so alone.
That was, until one fateful night, when Simon had woken with an even more violent jolt than usual. Drenched with sweat. Yelling at the top of his lungs, “Angel, please help me!”
And so Grace was promptly himself woken, Armando’s alerts blaring about pulse rate spikes and a panic attack.
He rushed over to Simon’s room in the cabin and quickly rushed past the open door—Simon didn’t like closed doors, he got claustrophobic, and felt trapped easily.
Simon was sitting up and crying when Grace quickly, but carefully approached, not wanting to startle the poor shaking man.
“Simon, it’s me— it’s Grace.” Grace said, doing his level best at keeping his voice soft and soothing, “I’m here, I’ve got you. Please, tell me how I can help.”
“I— words, I can’t…”
“I’ll get you your laptop if you want, buddy.”
“No! Don’t leave!”
Grace made a few shushing noises that he hoped didn’t come across as condescending, he’d last used the same noises to console upset middle schoolers after all.
“Okay, don’t worry I’m not going anywhere, do you want me to come closer Simon?”
And Simon quickly and forcefully nodded yes.