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The first thing that Eva Stratt had thought of Dr. Ryland Grace was that he was, for lack of a better term, ridiculous.
He was too large for his clothes, far too bright-eyed and as immature as the children he taught — but Eva Stratt needed answers, the world needed answers, and this man was the only one to have challenged the idea that all life required water to evolve. He was the perfect fit, so she would put her personal feelings to the side for this, as she always did.
The second thing Eva Stratt had thought of Dr. Ryland Grace, after a few days had passed since their initial meeting, was that he was quite smart.
He certainly hadn’t earned that doctorate on his charming smile alone, sure — but it was one thing to hear of someone’s talents, and another thing entirely to see them.
She’d waited patiently for his plane to land. She’d listened raptly to him ramble far more than necessary as he swayed in his steps, motion sickness pouring off of him in waves.
She’d presented him to the entire room, pushing him forward until he finally seemed to gather the courage to speak, addressing everyone in the room despite the shake just barely present in his limbs.
She’d cringed through his presentation, sure, but stood behind him nonetheless.
Ultimately, she’d decided that he was awkward, immature, unseemly and incredibly odd — but intelligent. Beneath it all, his intelligence shone like a beacon, stirring within her the barest shred of hope — and Eva Stratt could surely put up with a bumbling disaster of a man if it meant further discoveries, further results like the first successful breeding of astrophage.
She’d put up with him for as long as was necessary to save the world.
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Dr. Grace was quickly proving himself an incredibly good decision on her part.
Despite his obvious initial hesitancy towards any involvement with the project, he had taken to his work like a moth to a light — as was the nature of any good scientist, she’d noticed. He’d remain in the labs for hours on end, dissecting the very concept of astrophage down to the tiniest details, going over every known fact and trait until it surely become static nonsense to him. He even worked like a man possessed at times — she’d been made aware of the numerous incidents in which a member of staff had needed to physically pull him away from his work, demanding he needed sleep to be of any further use.
She’d also noticed a change in those working with him. There seemed to almost be a brightness surrounding him, one that was proving to be at the very least somewhat contagious. Once perpetually nervous scientists were starting to lose some of the tension ever present in their shoulders, while some of the stoics were becoming more casual — she’d even caught one or two of them smiling on occasion.
She’d picked up on Dr. Grace’s warmth quite early on. She hadn’t thought much of it at first — if he could work efficiently, his personality didn’t matter — but she was beginning to appreciate it, if not for the simple fact that his presence seemed to positively affect those around him, in turn improving their work.
The doctors and engineers and scientists and officials of all kinds around her had gradually begun to see his true value, just like she had. Sometimes remarking to her offhandedly on how she had a good eye for talent, how bright she was to have picked him despite his blaring oddities. She’d accepted those praises, despite how the backhandedness ruffled her slightly — sure, he was a bit odd, but it hadn’t once interfered with his work, so why was it such an issue to them?
Some had continued questioning if he was really necessary, insisting there surely were better options for the job — but she’d stood firm and defended his placement, confident in her eye for people and the talent Dr. Grace had shown thus far, and eventually those questioning it would back off.
Dr. Grace made progress quickly and efficiently enough for her liking as well. Sure, he’d provide candy to everyone working with him and explain every topic as though talking to a child, but he got his work done. That was all she could really ask for, after all, so she disregarded his oddities.
The more work he got done, the less they mattered to her.
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Eva Stratt knew plenty about sexualities and human identity. She wasn’t one to care much about them, however — whatever gender you labeled yourself as, whether or not you wanted to fuck, who you wanted to fuck, none of it had ever really mattered to her, so long as you were efficient and could get your work done.
However, Eva had never seen much of any of that in the way of Dr. Grace.
He had no girlfriend. No boyfriend. No relationships besides a string of flings in his college years and a somewhat steady one that had ended years prior.
He’d made a remark about it offhandedly once, though she didn’t believe he was fully aware she had even been listening to him. Saying something about how romance and sex of any kind didn’t particularly interest him — or at least, not in the way it did most people.
“It would be nice to have some sort of companion, though.” He’d said once, rather wistfully, as though mourning something unknown to her. “We’re social creatures, after all. It’d be nice to have someone around my whole life. I just… don’t think I’ll ever find someone up for that. Up for me.”
Eva had shifted slightly, almost awkwardly, her gaze fixing momentarily upon him. The topic felt far too personal, like she wasn’t meant to even bear witness to it — despite the fact that he’d said it knowing full well she was right there. Even if he hadn’t realized she was listening, he was surely aware that there was a chance of it.
Then again, she was aware of how easy it was for Dr. Grace to bare himself open to others; how easy it was for him to be vulnerable. Something she had never allowed for herself. After all, it wasn’t beneficial to the mission for her to get attached to anyone. Any of these people could die — they would all die if the mission failed, so what purpose was there to letting herself get attached?
Secretly, though, something inside her churned in agreement with the words so easily dropped from Dr. Grace’s lips. She, too, longed for such a thing. After all, who didn’t? Humans are a social species. It was so deeply ingrained in their very DNA to long for some sort of connection — friendship, family, romance, sex, you name it. Despite the walls she’d built up, standing atop a pedestal so tall she felt as though she were in the clouds, she too longed to have some sort of connection. A companion. Someone to make those quiet mornings easier, to fill the silence of her seemingly endless days.
Perhaps even someone to bring in a warmth like what radiated constantly from Dr. Grace.
Eva simply shifted again, and then Dr. Grace had moved onto a different topic. That was fine with her. There was no value in daydreaming over such folly, after all. She’d simply push it down, compartmentalize it all, rid it from her mind. If it wasn’t valuable to the mission, it wasn’t valuable to her.
She ignored the small ache in her chest for the rest of the day.
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She’d been plenty content enough to simply watch the sun slowly set and the waves crash and churn long before Dr. Grace had come up, asking permission to approach her as though he needed it.
(Personal attachments were of no use to her, and she’d made that abundantly clear, so why shouldn’t others require her permission to approach her? She ignored the small pang in her chest, the way that thought didn’t quite sit right with her, as correct as it was.)
Something about his company was just so easy. There were no judgmental eyes laid upon her, no stares attempting to peel the very layers of her apart. There was just Dr. Grace, steady and warm as he always was, smiling at her as though it were the easiest thing in the world.
When was the last time someone had looked at her like that? Like she was human? Like she was someone worth knowing?
When had someone last looked at her with such warmth in their eyes? Such kindness?
His words had sunk in far too deep by the time she’d noticed it — until suddenly, all she could think about was the complete absence of other people around. The waves, once so loud, were suddenly far too quiet for her liking. Something deep inside her dislodged, falling apart rapidly until she suddenly felt far too unsettled, as exposed as a prey animal surrounded by predators.
The pain in her very being forced her down into the depths of the ship, into that room that was once so loud it bordered on painful — now, however, the noise called to her as though she were no more than a mere magnet, helpless against its pull.
She bit down the terror threatening to carve her apart as she stood exposed in front of so many people — open, vulnerable, so unlike her. Her brain was doing its best to focus on the lyrics of the song over the blood rushing in her ears. The gazes upon her felt like knives, slitting open her skin — all but one of them, however.
Those blue eyes laid upon her a comfort she hadn’t known in years like a blanket wrapped around her, a feeling so akin to the safety of her mother’s womb, where nothing in the world had mattered. And so she sung, even as it felt as though she were bleeding — a feeling that was consistently dulled by those blue eyes fixed upon her, as though the pain of being so vulnerable and the comfort found in his gaze were fighting for dominance. Instilling in her a sense of courage unlike what had powered her over these past few months.
And so on she sung, on and on, until her skin had been flayed open and the microphone burned her hand, the comfort no longer enough to overcome that deep, intrinsic need to hide, to remain unmovable, untouchable.
Dr. Grace’s gaze never left her until she was well and truly outside of the room.
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“You’re good.”
Eva hadn’t been able to stop herself from lifting her eyebrows in surprise at the seemingly easy admission from his lips, his eyes crinkling as they always did, shining as they gazed upon her.
Dr. Grace’s compassion and warmth were something she hadn’t even realized she’d become so used to.
Everyone else she’d surrounded herself with had always stood behind a glass wall — visible, but untouchable. She couldn’t dare to ever lower that barrier. To do so would risk distraction — or worse, attachment.
But somewhere between seeking out a competent scientist to uncover the mystery of astrophage and putting together the plan to save the world, she’d gone and thrown all of that coldness out of the window. All from the mere act of Dr. Grace smiling at her.
No, not just from him smiling at her. It was his competency, his intelligence and quick wit. It was his patience and compassion, ever present even at his lowest points, refusing to lose himself to anger or frustration. It was his warmth, lighting up every room he ever entered.
When had she last felt this way about someone?
Had she ever felt this way about someone?
She truly couldn’t remember.
Eva had spent so much of her life alone. It was in her nature, after all, to keep everyone around her at an arm’s length.
In her youth, those days spent singing in the choir, she hadn’t tried to befriend someone like all the other children had done. In her college years, she’d been too busy studying all types of major and minor historical events to attend parties or hook up with anyone. Throughout her career leading up to the Petrova Taskforce, she’d simply do what was asked of her and nothing more. Never engaging in any more socializing than what was necessary for her job.
Grace had changed that about her. For the first time, she felt warmth blooming within her chest, spreading all throughout her in a pleasant hum. She ached to know him better. To continue staying by his side, consequences be damned. To know him as Ryland Grace.
The blast was nothing short of deafening.
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Eva stared out the window, ignoring the itch crawling all over every inch of her body, from the very depths of her bones to the surface of her skin, worsening with each audible click of the clock on the wall. He had ten minutes left, now. Ten minutes before Gra- Dr. Grace would be called into her office, to give his answer.
Images of him flashed in her mind unbidden — of that blinding smile, those eyes so blue that they put the sky to shame even on its brightest day, of that hair as golden as the sun they were all so desperately fighting to save. They flowed through her before she could stop them, causing that unpleasant feeling to churn deep in her gut.
It was all useless folly. Such attachment, such emotions, such… fondness, for lack of a better term. There was no value in holding onto such things in this line of work — facing the end of the world and her own impending imprisonment the moment this project finished, relegated to becoming the world’s whipping boy to satiate the need for a scapegoat as tensions all across the world rose. To give the people something, someone to blame.
And beyond it all, what could she even want from him in the wake of her realization? What could she even ask from him?
His smile? His attention? His warmth? His lo—
She stopped her mind before it could even dare to go further. She knew very well his stance on the matter, where he fell on that particular spectrum. Furthermore, she was already asking so much of him. Asking himself to give himself up entirely, to sacrifice his very life. To ask, to want such things were so terribly selfish. She could barely recognize herself in the wake.
And she knew full well just what his answer to their dilemma would be. She had the team on standby for a reason, after all. There was such a strong likelihood of him refusing, of him begging, of him running —
She bit back the swell of bile that threatened to spill up and into her mouth. She’d handle this, as she’d handled everything so far. She’d push all of those thoughts deep, deep down, casting them aside like pebbles into the ocean to wash away with the waves, never to be seen again.
He ended up running, just as she’d unfortunately predicted.
The radio felt like an entire mountain in her hand, threatening to pull her all the way down into the depths of the Earth. It felt scorching hot, too, as though to continue holding it would irreversibly burn the very skin off her hands — but she didn’t dare put it down.
She deserved that pain, after all, did she not?
She watched him run for mere seconds before he was fully out of her view, but she still didn’t dare to put down the radio. She didn’t dare to force her feet out into the hall, out onto the grass to bare further witness — even as her mind screamed at her to do so, insisting she scorch herself alive in the agony of witnessing.
The agony of him running from her office was painful enough, even if she knew she deserved far worse.
With his smiles and twinkling eyes, his unending compassion and patience, he was nothing short of an angel walking amongst the living. And what was she, to harm him so deeply, so cruelly, but a devil?
The guilt boiled over until she couldn’t bear it anymore. She found herself, for the very first time, cracking. She found her feet running towards the bathroom before she could even consciously comprehend it, head falling forward as bile spewed from her lips, searing her very throat raw.
As she sat there, heaving over the toilet, the radio now discarded on the floor crackled to life.
“We’ve got him, Stratt. He’s officially unconscious, and the team is beginning preparations to move him.”
She found herself emptying her stomach into the bowl once more.
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Her prison cell was plain. Dreary. Cold.
So unlike the warmth she’d selfishly bathed in for so long.
She’d been led to it mere days after the Hail Mary launched, exactly as she had been expecting. The governments had even acted quicker than she’d anticipated in labeling her the scapegoat — of pulling her from the pedestal they’d adorned for her in gold down onto the rickety wooden platform now baring her to the hatred and scorn of the entire world.
Even in her cell, she wasn’t spared. Guards brought her newspapers detailing headline after headline, whip after whip against her already bleeding back. The world seemed intent on tearing her apart. No, not just intent, but eager. Eager to force their fingers into her skin and pull the layers of her apart, exposing flesh and bone, ligaments and tendons until she was all but flayed alive underneath them. Even then, they wouldn’t stop until she was nothing more than mere bone — that was, at least, until the Beatles returned with their findings.
She’d already been fully informed of that particular detail. The moment that the presence of the Beatles in their atmosphere was detected, she’d be pulled from her prison cell to play out her part all over again — forced back upon the poisoned, gilded pedestal, bloodied and torn and barely conscious underneath all the pain.
She’d accepted it.
There wasn’t really any other choice for her. Any other option. She’d be whipped down to the bone, made to suffer the same wrath of humanity she’d studied endlessly in college, all until she was useful again. Never again doused in even an ounce of warmth, of kindness. That was her part to play. That was her sacrifice to make.
And if it brought back the sun, if it saved the world, it was all worth it.
Eva Stratt was but a miniscule cog in the ever-turning machine of the world, after all. Much of humanity seemed content to forget their place in nature, but Eva hadn’t. She was a child of this planet, and it was her duty, her responsibility, to sacrifice herself to save it. To sacrifice whatever she could, whatever was necessary, in order to save it — like a child clambering desperately in any attempt to help their mother.
That sacrifice had included herself, yes. But it’d also included Grace.
He was in a coma by now, and would be for four more years, in his time. He was asleep, peaceful at the very least, and he’d sleep for those four full years. Then he’d wake to Yao and Ilyukhina beside him, ready to help guide him, to keep him company until the very end.
It was the kindest fate she was able to give him in the circumstances, but it didn’t make it any less cruel. It didn’t make it hurt any less.
She didn’t expect forgiveness of any kind. Part of her even hoped he’d never forgive her for such a thing. She deserved his rage, his fury, his resentment. His wrath — if he was even capable of such a thing. It was exceptionally rare, after all, to find a human kinder than he was.
Her cell was silent, save for the sneers of the guards, the clinking of her food tray and the rustling of paper as newspaper after newspaper was delivered to her.
And so she sat. And thought. And dreamed.
And if those dreams ended with her hand in hand with a blurred, blond figure with a blindingly bright smile, bathed in such achingly soft warmth — well, who was there to know?