Archive of Our Own

Ryland Grace was a perpetually irresponsible glasses owner at best back when he lived on Earth. 

And within the confines of Hail Mary, he was arguably worse. There were a million surfaces to set his glasses, and a million places to lose them. 

He was supposed to wear them a lot of the time, considering he had a fairly severe case of farsightedness.

But from personal experience, Grace found he really only needed his glasses most of the time, not all the time. He hardly carried them on his person every moment of the day, especially at night when he wasn’t working. Sure, sometimes he’d trip over stuff on the floor, or miss the mark when he was trying to find his bed in dim lighting, but he didn’t require his glasses.

They were mostly for convenience, if anything, and really fun to play around with when they weren’t on his face. 

Which made them incredibly easy to misplace. And notably, when glasses were easy to lose, they were also easy to break.

Which is exactly what happened that day. 

He’d been jumping around, trying to get himself extracted from his skin-tight LCVG suit, when his glasses went skittering across the floor, falling from the bridge of his nose before he could reach out and grab them.

And naturally, in Grace-like fashion, he’d forgotten all about them. 

He only had long-distance activities for the rest of the day, nothing requiring him to read at the very least. So, the glasses stayed there, discarded on the floor, as if they weren’t one of the majorly important items Grace needed for basic functionality while performing extremely important research. 

Grace went about his nightly routine of gritting through a sponge-bath, and being a captive participant in Rocky’s nightly interrogation about human hobbies and music and the reason behind the stupid little human celebrations they had on the day of one's birth.

When Rocky was satisfied, Grace brushed his teeth, whistled as he shuffled down the hall toward his discarded space suit, deciding to–for once–be a little bit responsible and pick up after himself. (Or maybe he was just sick of Rocky complaining about his mess, alright? Sue him.)

Grace’s whistling was interrupted by an unusual sounding crunch that came from underneath his untied shoes. 

What was that? 

He glanced between his feet, squinting in the dark and attempting to focus his blurred vision. 

His stomach sank all the way to the floor when he realized what he’d stepped on.

His freaking glasses. 

“Grace sleep now, question? Large day tomorrow. Grace and Rocky science time.” Rocky was rolling around somewhere in the distance, and had almost definitely heard the crunching noise. Grace made a lot of random noises, a lot of which bothered Rocky, but he’d been getting better at not commenting on all of them. Grace couldn’t have been happier to not have to address this particular noise, because oh boy, Rocky would not be happy about what just happened. 

Rocky was right, the next day they had some pretty important plans. They were drafting the final plans for their route to Tau Ceti e, and Grace abso-gosh-darn-lutely needed to be able to see things for that. 

So, yeah. Crappppp. 

“It’s big day, not large day,” Grace corrected and dropped to a crouch, squinting and frowning when he couldn’t see the glasses in the dim lighting. 

“Substantial day tomorrow,” Rocky offered as an alternative. 

“Nope, not that either. It only works if you say ‘big day,’ that’s it,” Grace called back, tracing his fingers over the floor seeing if he could find them that way. He inhaled sharply when he finally caught one of the temples between his fingertips. 

“Disagree,” Rocky shot back, who would have guessed?  “Grace taking long time. Grace okay, question? Need help, question?”

Of all things Grace didn’t want, he especially didn’t want Rocky’s help. 

Rocky found Grace to be careless, and had made that observation known on at least a thousand occasions so far. Grace was definitely going to be chastised like he was a clumsy child if Rocky found out he’d broken his ‘vision device.’ And even if the glasses weren’t broken, Rocky would definitely still dive into a lecture. 

Hence, Grace deflected. 

“Nope! You don’t need to help–I’m just…” He held his glasses up to inspect them. Well, at least Grace tried to inspect them, but he couldn’t freaking see. “I’m just cleaning up a bit before bed.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. He had been intending to clean up. 

Grace moved his glasses between his fingers, feeling over what he knew was shattered glass. Great. Perfect. 

From what he could feel, Grace determined that the right lens was broken into larger shards, with a few pieces missing in the middle. Unfortunately, the left one–conveniently, the lens with a higher prescription–was essentially a lost cause, little sharp pieces of glass digging into Grace’s fingers. And on top of it all, one of the arms had snapped off the more he manipulated the glasses in his hand. 

Dang it. They were broken broken. Crap. Like, not really usable at all, kind of broken. 

That threw only a minor kink in the whole saving the Earth plans he had for the next while. 

Grace felt a crushing weight on his shoulders, cold disappointment seeping into his veins. He only had one job out here, lightyears away from Earth, and that one job relied on him being able to see. Of course, he’d found a way to mess it up through a simple act of carelessness.

He rolled the glasses between his fingers, stomach rolling and eyes watering as he tried to calm himself down. 

It’s gonna be fine. It will all be fine. Don’t freak out, Grace. 

“Grace make sad noise. Crying because cleaning, question?”

“N-no! No–Rocky–I was…laughing.” Grace was a bad liar, and Rocky knew that.

“Laugh at what, question? Grace not funny.”

What would he be laughing at if he wasn’t lying through his teeth? Maybe the ridiculousness of this whole situation? Maybe the fact that he’d messed up astronomically in a matter of a few seconds?

“It’s an inside joke. With myself.” Grace answered the question as he wiped his fingers across his face, wiping away any evidence of his leaking eyes. 

“No understand.”

“Exactly. That’s the point.”

Rocky seemed to let things go, and Grace heard him rolling around in the distance, probably working on his current xenonite project as he had been the past couple of nights while Grace slept. At least someone in the Hail Mary had the capability of being productive. 

Grace took a few deep, shaky breaths, trying to get over the initial hump of emotion and start thinking through all of the possible solutions. Maybe there was a back-up pair of glasses somewhere in his pack? Or maybe the med-bot had the capability to fix his existing pair? Maybe the med-bot could make him a brand new set of glasses?

Grace wished he could remember anything about the last few months of his time back on Earth, wished he could recall the memories of him packing his personal effects. Heck, he wished he could remember having a physical performed by a doctor before he was approved to join the crew of the Hail Mary. Certainly someone would have thought ahead and gotten together some sort of plan to pack some spare specs, right?  

But even as he screwed his eyes shut and paced back and forth overtop of his crumpled space suit on the floor, he couldn’t seem to force himself into a memory. 

Which meant, he needed to start looking around and hope that he stumbled across the answers to his questions. And somehow–in the process–not send Rocky into a fit of worry.

He decided that checking his pack was the place to start, even if he had searched through it at least ten times since he’d been on the Hail Mary. 

Grace stalked his way toward the dormitory, bypassing the lab–and Rocky–completely, though, he wasn’t able to avoid Rocky’s questions. 

“Grace go to sleep now, question? Rocky wake Grace in eight human hours, question?” Rocky said. 

“Uh–not yet, just getting ready for bed.”

He slipped into the dormitory, heading straight for his pack and pulling at the zippers. He’d gone through the thing at least ten times before, though he’d never seen a pair of glasses before. His pack didn’t have much in it to begin with, just some of his clothes, a couple of odd pictures of himself, his hacky sack, and a few trinkets that were admittedly fun to fiddle with. 

This time, he extracted everything from the bag, laying it out on the floor, then searching through every nook and cranny of the bag itself, scraping his fingers along the edges of it in place of trying to see through his blurred, unfocused eyes. None of the pockets had anything inside them, and even when he shook out of his clothes for good measure, he came up short. 

“Strike one,” he muttered quietly enough that he was sure Rocky couldn’t hear him in the lab. 

Next, he grilled the med-bot, keeping his voice low and praying Rocky was too busy to be curious.

“Do you have replacement lenses for my glasses frames?”

“There are no replacement spectacle lenses for crew: Ryland Grace.”

“Do you have replacements for my glasses?”

“There are no replacement spectacles for crew: Ryland Grace.”

“What about for my crewmates? Either of them have any spares?”

“There are no replacement spectacles.”

“Can you make glasses if I need them? Medically? Or just for fun?”

The med-bot didn’t respond. 

“Do you have contacts instead?”

“Contacts are not available.”

“Can you give me laser-eye surgery to fix my vision permanently?”

“Laser-eye surgery is not recommended for crew: Ryland Grace. No physical examination of the eyes has been completed.”

“Can you give me the exam then?”

“Ocular examination is only performed if a crew member has a medical history of vision impairment or has suffered an injury.” 

What? 

Was the med-bot implying that there was no medical history on file documenting his farsightedness?

“I do,” Grace protested, whisper yelling a little louder, like the bot hadn’t heard him clearly before, “I have that. I’m farsighted, I have been for over twenty years.”

“There are no records on file implicating visual impairment for crew: Ryland Grace.”

What the heck? 

Grace’s chest twisted uncomfortably and he felt his hands start to shake where he was wringing them together atop his stomach. 

“I don’t understand!” he hissed to himself, pressing the palms of his hands over his eyes. 

You’d think that a mission in the caliber of Project Hail Mary would have had people working day and night on compliance? You’d think they would have noticed that one of the crew members’ medical information was incomplete? It was a matter of life and death for the crew, but also for humanity itself; there probably should’ve been someone doublechecking that everything the crew needed to function was locked and loaded. 

But, it looked like this little (enormously important) detail had been missed, and now Grace was screwed. 

Screwed and visually impaired for the foreseeable future, unless one of the additional storage boxes he’d yet to look through had either a second set of glasses, or materials to make another set from scratch. 

Bad, bad, bad. 

Grace slumped down onto the floor, sitting with his legs crossed and head buried into his hands, misery sweeping over him in waves. If his vision were better, the whole situation would be little more than an inconvenience; maybe he’d get the odd headache from squinting down at whatever was in front of him.

But unfortunately, his vision was bad bad. 

Dread began to trickle into his veins, adrenaline starting to lose its hold on him. 

He wasn’t looking forward to constant headaches, or not having a single piece of reading material available to him. He wasn’t looking forward to tripping over things more frequently than he already did. And he certainly wasn’t particularly thrilled about the idea of trying to manually navigate the Hail Mary around from memory alone. 

He wasn’t ready to tell Rocky that he’d messed up, and wasn't ready to face the disappointment that followed. 

Grace allowed himself to wallow, a few tears slipping down his cheeks as he rhythmically tapped his fingers against his forehead, trying to calm himself down. He needed to think clearly, but in order to do that, he needed to let himself have a cry and a pout first. 

Grace gave himself ten minutes before he peeled himself off the floor, wiped his face with his sleeve, and went to get comfortable in his makeshift bed where Rocky could watch him sleep. 

He convinced himself he’d tell Rocky the next day when he had a clear head.

-

A full night of sleep led Grace to a plan of action.

First, figure out the supplies they had on hand. Then, exhaust all possible options, see if something stuck, and if he came up short? Then (and only then), he’d tell Rocky. 

There was no reason to worry him before Grace hadn’t spent at least a bit of time trying to solve his own problem. Sure, Rocky was smart and crafty and practical–but Grace was smart too, and the direct cause of his own problem; he figured it would make the most sense to try and find a solution first. 

But a night of sleep didn’t fix the dread in Grace’s chest, or take away the weight on his shoulders, or make him feel any less like an idiot when he couldn’t figure out where he’d left his stupid toothbrush. 

Still, he was functional enough.

“Hi, Grace,” Rocky said from his ball, rolling around in the lab, following Grace as he carefully navigated through the lab to grab his morning breakfast burrito, which was unusual in itself. Characteristically, Rocky wasn’t a big fan of watching Grace’s gross eating routine. 

“Morning, Rock. How’s the…” he squinted at whatever blurry xenonite contraption Rocky had inside the ball with him, unable to make it out, “Whatever that is? How’s the project going?” 

“Progress is good, good, good. Rocky will explain device use again when functional.”

“Looking forward to it, pal.”

Grace looked down at the crate of burritos–well, what he assumed was the crate of burritos–and reached down to grab at one, pulling it out, then held his hand out to feel around for the stool he knew was somewhere around him. Probably that gray blob to his right–

“Grace make strange movements, statement,” Rocky commented. 

Great. He’s noticing already. 

“You say that everyday,” Grace shot back, finally getting a hold on the stool and sitting down carefully. He placed the burrito down neatly in front of him on the table, tugging at the wrapper. He planned to eat it at room-temperature–he wouldn’t be able to make out the controls of the warmer. 

Normally, this was the part where Rocky left Grace’s general vicinity, announcing his disgust at Grace’s chewing sounds. But Rocky didn’t move at all this time, just stayed there patiently, even as Grace got the burrito out of its wrapper and into his hands. 

“Rocky find movements more strange. Grace no make burrito warm, question?”

Grace sighed, chest feeling tight as he shook his head. 

Rocky was exceptionally attuned to Grace’s schedule–whether that was in his nature as an Eridian, or whether it was because he was concerned, Grace didn’t know–and it was hard for Grace to explain the inconsistencies in human behavior without sending off alarm bells for Rocky. 

“Yeah, just hungry. Don’t want to wait for it to warm up,” Grace lied. It took less than a minute to warm a burrito. 

“Grace always make burrito warm. Is strange.”

Grace shrugged and took a bite, staring off into the distance to give himself something clear to look at, for once. Still, Rocky didn’t leave, apparently unbothered by Grace’s nasty eating. 

Awesome. 

“Grace no wear vision device, question?” Rocky asked seconds later, continuing the interrogation. Grace knew Rocky would notice, he wasn’t caught off guard, but he hadn’t expected the question that early in the day. 

“I don’t always need them to see, remember?” He didn’t need them all the time, just for most things, but he didn’t say that, “Just…don’t feel like wearing them.” Grace continued to eat, hearing Rocky rolling back and forth, a little movement he made when he had a lot on his mind. A lot to say. 

“Grace always wear them even if not feel like. Grace very, very, very, strange with human behavior. Rocky need know more information to assess illness–”

Grace whipped his head around, staring at Rocky’s blurry ball a couple of feet away. “Woah, woah, woah! Hey–no. Nope. I’m not ill!”

“Grace say deviations in human behavior is because of illness.”

“Sometimes. I said people act weird when they are sick sometimes. Other times, they act weird because they are weird.”

“No understand.”

Grace sighed, felt his body flooding with anxiety, breath heavy in his chest. Rocky meant well–of course he did–but he didn’t recognize the need for nuance and had a penchant for catastrophizing. Grace had expected some questioning, but Rocky was really going at it, picking at Grace’s every little movement for the whole five minutes they’d spent together that morning thus far. 

“Just trust me on this one–I’m not sick. I’m just looking for variation. Changing things up. Being a goofball, having fun.”

“Variation…” Rocky repeated, knowingly, “Fun…”

“Yeah, you get it. Good talk. I’d leave now if you don’t want to see me continue eating. I know how much disgust it is for you.”

“Very gross and disgust. Rocky hate human face while eating.”

Rocky rolled away with that, leaving Grace with his half-eaten, very blurry burrito in hand. 

“Coffee,” he requested through a groan.

He finished his coffee quickly after spilling about half of it on his lap.

-

After he’d finished eating, Grace explained–unmoving from his rolling stool–his intentions to put off their original plans, and instead, turn his focus on looking through the remaining supplies they hadn’t sorted through from storage. 

As consolation, he offered to let Rocky have the first pick of whatever movie he wanted to watch that night. Which was probably going to be either 2 Fast 2 Furious or Trolls, much to Grace’s chagrin. 

Rocky was understanding enough, even offering Grace his help, but Grace absolutely needed Rocky to not be watching his every movement while he blindly stumbled through unpacking a bunch of storage boxes. 

But thankfully, Rocky was more than happy to start working on adding to his xenonite tunnel he’d started to form moving toward the dormitory. 

Which…yeah, it took up more of the limited space in the Hail Mary, but Grace was looking forward to being able to sleep in his bunk for once. 

Regardless, Rocky was distracted with his own project, which left Grace (mostly) to himself in the lab. 

A while back, Grace had pulled the remaining boxes up from storage and now they sat in the far corner of the lab in a precarious stack. He rolled himself over in that general direction–slowly, so carefully–and took in a deep, unsatisfied breath when he realized what he was getting himself into. 

He knew wouldn’t be able to see the contents even though he could manage to slice open the cardboard boxes or unlatch the metal ones. So, he was going to have to have to look from a distance, or feel around to see if he could figure out what he had in hand. Either way, it was going to look exceptionally stupid, and be extra time consuming, and probably make him go mad after a few hours.

But it had to happen, and crossing his fingers, there were a few spare pairs of glasses somewhere in there, maybe even tools to make them. Something. 

With a sigh, and what he hoped was a box cutter held between his fingers, Grace got to work. 

And within a couple of hours, he’d hardly made a dent.

He thought he would be better at identifying an object while holding it in his hands. But oh boy was he wrong about that. And even if he did back away far enough so he could see clearly from a distance, it wasn’t a very efficient process at all. Not to mention, inside many of the boxes were smaller boxes labelled with the tiniest, unreadable font. 

Of what he had been able to identify from the five unloaded boxes, Grace had become the proud owner of another fifty test tubes, two anal thermometers (for some unknown and highly concerning reason?), a bag of spare knobs for the Hail Mary’s dashboard controls, and finally, a bunch of bags of random screws and bolts of varying sizes. 

So, really, he was just sweaty, exhausted, annoyed, and basically 0% done with the task he’d set out to do. 

Oh–and still, unable to freaking see!

“This is never going to work,” he mumbled to himself, crouched over top of the contents of box number six, blinking harshly through the beginnings of a mild headache. “Probably nothing usable in this whole stack.”

Grace dropped his elbows over his knees, head hanging, preparing himself for disappointment from yet another box. 

He reached out beside himself to where he’d deposited his box cutter somewhere on the floor, hand reaching blindly for the blotchy gray spot on the white floor. His fingers brushed against the metal body of it, and he wrapped his hand around what he assumed was the handle of it–

“Ow! Shit–”

There was a sharp, stabbing pain in the palm of his hand, blistering, snappy pain curling through Grace’s hand for a split second. His brain shorted out as he tried to process what had just happened, pain ebbing for only a second before it came back even harsher. More violent.  

Hurts, hurts, hurts!

He looked down, seeing unfocused blobs of red all over the place, stark against the yellow of his pants and the floor. Oh god! 

Grace didn’t like blood, not even when it was pixelated. He hated the smell of it, and the warmth of it sliding down the length of his arm toward his elbow. It made his stomach boil, made his heart clench inside the walls of his chest. 

Oh my god I’m gonna vomit. Oh my god!

Grace hissed violently, falling back on the seat of his pants, and cradling his hand against his chest while he choked up his barely digested all over the floor of the lab. 

It smelled horrid, mixing with the acrid smell of blood, making Grace dry heave into his unharmed hand even after he’d expelled the remaining contents of his stomach.

And wow that hurt! 

“Grace!” Rocky was rolling around somewhere in the distance, but Grace couldn’t find it in him to care, focused on trying to get his breath to stop hitching in his chest. Trying to get his stomach to stop flipping over in wretched circles every time a flicker of red made it into his field of vision. 

He gulped down a wet breath, feeling the heat of tears dripping down his cheeks. Everything was too wet–the blood, the tears–and Grace hated it. The sensation was too much, all over his skin, making it crawl. He needed to get it to stop. 

Need to get something to get the blood to stop.

Grace staggered to his feet, head feeling empty, and foggy, and just plain wrong.

“Grace!” 

Rocky again, closer this time, panicked. Worried. Exactly the opposite of what Grace wanted. 

Everything felt bad, but Grace forced himself to move, unsteady as he tripped across the floor toward the roll of paper towels by the lab’s sink. He banged into anything in his way that he wasn’t able to see, uncaring about whatever mess he was causing because he needed the blood to stop. 

“Grace!” Rocky was right behind him, Grace could hear him rolling around unsteadily, “Grace, bleeding, question? Bad, bad, bad!” 

Grace fumbled with the paper towels, struggling to rip off a wad of them with just a single hand. He used his teeth, tearing off a section, trembling as he pulled his bleeding hand away from his chest and shoving a wad of the paper towels over his whole palm. 

Okay. Alright. What next?

Rocky’s ball pressed up against the backs of his knees, demanding his attention. 

“Grace, medbay. Now, statement. Now, now, now!” 

Right. Rocky was right. Grace nodded shakily. 

“I–yeah. Yes. M’going.”

He went as quickly as he could, breathing through gritted teeth, Rocky on his heels.

Grace stumbled over something when he rounded the bend toward the corridor, falling down onto his knees and ramming his elbow into a sharp, metal railing. 

“Ow, ow! That’s–hnggg–owwwww–”

It hurt so bad, adding to the already everpresent, throbbing, horrible pain. 

“Grace very not good at seeing now.”

Grace couldn’t stifle the wet laugh that was wrenched from his throat. Because yeah, Rocky had no fricking idea!

He managed to get himself back on his feet and somehow, all the way to the dormitory where he charged in the direction of the med-bot. 

Grace let it drag him onto the bed, not trusting his vision enough to differentiate between the white surfaces of the floor versus the floor when he didn’t have his hands available to guide him. Rocky watched impatiently from the side, rolling back and forth. 

“Bad.”

“I know. I agree, one-hundred percent.”

The med-bot grabbed at Grace’s arm making him hiss violently when the probes forced him to unfurl his fist. 

“Very, very, very, much bad.”

“Uh-huh. Noted.”

The med-bot continued it’s torture, producing gauze or something like it, affixing it Grace’s hand, applying pressure that made the pain turn sharp and deep yet again. 

“What grace do to hand, question?”

“I just–ow, ow! Stop that!–I cut it. Picked the box cutter up on the wrong end–”

“Grace no use eyes to see sharp blade, question?”

Well.

“Grace no wear vision device, statement.”

It sounded like a realization, but also an accusation. The words hung in the air. 

Grace properly ignored him, knowing he was at the end of the line, knowing he’d only made it three hours into the day without his glasses before getting himself into a situation.

He had to tell Rocky. It wasn’t like he was going to be able to get through all the storage boxes anytime soon. It wasn’t like he would be able to pretend for much longer without Rocky narrating his odd behavior out loud. 

“Grace no see blade because no vision device. Where is vision device, question? Rocky find for Grace, fix vision, no more blood or stupid movements.”

Grace’s heart throbbed loudly in his chest. 

The med-bot took the break in conversation as an opportunity to announce that Grace would need stitches. And sedation to properly do so. Which probably had something to do with the fact that the bot wasn’t well-calibrated to be able to complete precise procedures unless the patient was completely still. 

“Where is vision device, question?” Rocky repeated, losing patience. 

“Preparation for the procedure will be completed beginning in ten seconds,” the med-bot informed them. 

There wasn’t time to explain, wasn’t time for Grace to really get Rocky up to speed on the last twelve hours of his life. “Rock…I don’t–they’re–”

The med-bot whirred. 

“Rocky find.”

-

When Grace woke up Rocky was nowhere to be found. 

Groggily, he threw the oxygen mask off of his face, sitting up and already getting to his feet to go find him.

Grace looked down at his hand as he began to shuffle from the dormitory, really only able to make out the white bandages contrasting against his skin. At least there wasn’t any red, and for now, the pain wasn’t terrible. It was just a dull, uncomfortable ache, distracting at worst. 

And even so, less distracting than the painfully obvious blurriness that remained fixed in front of Grace’s eyes. 

Oh right–yeah–he couldn’t see. Grace remembered clearly why he was so worried that Rocky wasn’t right there at his side when he woke up. They’d parted ways on uncertain terms. 

Last he remembered, Rocky was going to look for his glasses, the same shattered pair that he’d left hidden underneath his pillow the night before. The same pair that Rocky would’ve inevitably found by now.

Not good. Very not good. 

Grace meandered his way into the lab, following Rocky’s noises and clanking, dread curling through his stomach. He’d become very familiar with the feeling of dread in the last day, huh?

Rocky knew he was coming, but didn’t utter a word, and boy if that didn’t feel ominous. Grace felt his stomach clench as he stepped inside the corridor of the lab. Rocky was there in his sectioned off space, working on something. From a distance, it looked to be something small and intricate, requiring a good amount of attention. 

“Rocky?” Grace asked, voice hoarse, body dehydrated. 

Rocky paused for a moment, clicking noises slowing to a stop. 

“Grace.”

Grace swallowed, not liking the sound of Rocky’s tone. He seemed…sad. 

“I think Armando’s got me all fixed up now.”

He held up his arm, showing off his bandaging. 

“Happy.”

Just a single happy was not, indeed, happy for Rocky. It meant something closer to vaguely satisfied. 

“I’m gonna guess you found my glasses?”

“Yes.”

Alright. Suck it up, Grace. 

“They’re broken. I broke them last night. I should’ve just told you, but I-I panicked. Armando doesn’t have any spares, and can’t make me new lenses or contacts or anything! And I didn’t have any extra pairs in my pack. I thought maybe I could look through the storage boxes and see if there was anything in there. I didn’t want you to worry, okay? I didn’t want–”

“Grace.”

Grace was stopped in his tracks, breath hitching in his chest, eyes watering again.

Rocky stood next to the xenonite wall, hand extended upward, holding something that Grace could make out, even from a distance. 

Glasses frames. Xenonite glasses frames, shaped just like Grace’s original pair. 

His heart fell right into his belly. 

“Rocky fix part of vision device. Rocky and Grace research method for interior part of vision device together and find solution. Rocky fix part of broken device in spare time.”

“Oh. Rocky…you–” Grace didn’t have the right words to express the feelings welling up in his chest. It wasn’t just gratitude, but love, appreciation–he’d never had a friend do something so thoughtful, never had a friend tried to pick up his pieces and put them back together.

“Thank you, Rock. I–” 

“Rocky accepts gratitude.” 

Grace sobbed out a laugh and a cry together at the same time. “I’m gonna be really stupid until we figure out how to fix the lenses, you know. Can’t see five feet in front of my face without that part.”

“Rocky know. Grace is stupid often, will not be new behavior to observe.”

Grace snorted out another wet laugh, craving a hug, wishing there was an easier way to get one that didn’t include throwing his body up against a hot xenonite wall. Still, it was better than nothing. 

Grace started to move toward the wall, earning himself a retort from Rocky. 

“No, stay there. No more blood.”

Grace ignored him, dropping down in front of the wall and hoping he was hugging the right place when he threw the expanse of his arms up against the wall. “I’m sorry, Rock. Really, I am. I’m sorry about the blood. I’m sorry for not just telling you I messed up. I hope we can figure this out because I can’t pilot the ship, or research, or read without–”

“Grace shut mouth and hug. Will figure out together.”

Right. Rocky was right, per usual. 

“Can you at least tell me if you are okay, Rock? I know I probably scared you.”

“Rocky fine.”

“Fine? That means nothing coming from you.”

“Not fine, but fine. Grace understands, statement.”

Grace smiled against the glass at the blurry, brown blob of Rocky in front of him, hand throbbing a little, headache flaring, but heart so, so, so full. 

“Yeah, I understand. I’ll do better next time.”

“Rocky thinks hard for Grace to do worse.”

“Oh, come on!”

-

Whoever’s idea it was to give the Hail Mary crew all of the information and resources ever available on Earth was doing god’s work. 

Between hours of trying to navigate through his computer without being able to see the screen, figuring out how to use the pre-installed screen reader, and listening to hours upon hours of obscure and highly technical Youtube videos, they managed to find a solution to recreate Grace’s lenses. 

By no means were the new set of lenses perfect–that’s for sure–but somehow, they managed to use resin, molds, and a whole bunch of time to get some fairly usable, better than nothing, cobbled together pair of lenses.

Rocky helped get them set into the xenonite frames, proudly showing off his handiwork when Grace finally stood in front of the single mirror aboard and admired the intricate design that had been added to the arms. 

“Dude, these look great!” Grace loved them, loved that he could see them. “Seriously, they’re perfect.”

“Happy, happy, happy!”

And Grace felt the weight on his shoulders slide right off in an instant.