Chapter Text
I’ve been living off of taumoeba and coma slurry for a year. I’m trying to spread out my actual, human food, so that I’m not without certain vitamins and minerals entirely. I think I have scurvy but despite how obvious it is to me, Rocky hasn’t pinpointed what it is exactly. He knows why I’m like this, why my gums have been hurting (and bleeding, but I don’t need to tell him that), and why I spend most of my time sitting to avoid hurting myself. He also doesn’t need to know about my bruises, my loose tooth, or my anemia. I make sure to test myself for these things while he’s asleep so as to not worry him further. Eventually he’ll catch on to some of these symptoms but for now, I just tell him that I’m weak from lack of proteins and fats and vitamins.
Right now I’m watching Rocky sleep. It’s the only thing I have the energy for at the moment. Rocky has been insisting that I eat more of my nourishing food, but I’m still constantly afraid that the Eridian’s won’t be able to synthesize more food for me once I get to Erid. About an hour ago I fell to the floor as I was trying to move something across the room, and I’m still sitting here in front of one of Rocky’s tunnels. I press my hand against the xenonite. I can barely feel it; my hand is numb amongst the many other issues I’m experiencing. It’s unsettling to me that I can’t feel the barrier so I press my forehead to it instead. It warms my face and I sigh, slumping against it. I’m just gonna stay here for a while. So much for having a productive day. I was going to do some routine maintenance on the Hail Mary and deep clean some things but now all I’m doing is trying to survive.
I spend most of my time with Rocky, obviously, but I still feel lonely when he’s asleep. Part of me worries I’ll die when he's not around to watch. I know that’s ridiculous because despite my malnourishment, I’m as healthy as can possibly be. For a while I was doing a good job of not crying too much, but as much as I hate myself for it, I now cry almost every time I get the chance to without Rocky seeing me. He already watched his crew die slowly from radiation; I don’t want him to worry about seeing the same thing with me. Now I’m crying again.
Rocky fell asleep a few hours ago, so I’m not too worried about him catching me in the act. I always wipe the tears off of his xenonite bulb or tunnels before he wakes up. I can’t stop though. I rub the sides of the wall slowly, I try to soothe myself. I feel one of my teeth move in my mouth as I press my head into the wall. I start to cry harder. I know that I’m being overdramatic but I can’t seem to stop myself. My stomach growls and I eye the taumoeba/coma slurry from across the room. I don’t even try to get up. I can feel my bones protest and my eyes go blurry. God, I’m fucked. I can’t even stand up to get food. I’m just grateful that the current gravity in the ship isn’t five times as much as earth’s or something ridiculous. I sit slumped against Rocky’s ball when I’m startled awake.
“Grace, what’s wrong, question?” I scramble off of the ball once I register the sound.
“Rock, hey-hi, how’d you sleep?” I say, forcing a smile onto my face and doing my best to hide the tears from his ‘view.’ Rocky pauses and I can tell he’s assessing me. I shrug. “What’s up? I was watching you while you slept, buddy, I promise.”
“You were crying. Don’t lie,” he accuses. He moves closer to me inside his ball. “What wrong this time?” He’s being sincere, I can tell, but something about the question irritates me, like the excruciating pain I'm in isn't enough to justify crying.
“Nothing, Rocky. I’m just tired. I was resting on your ball. Should I move so you can get up?” I shakily stand, holding onto his ball for support.
“No! Grace sit down.” He clicks his fingers together in protest. I sigh and nearly collapse to the floor. I’m still struggling not to cry some more.
“I have chores, Rocky. I have to take care of the ship and make sure the farms are still functioning well.” Rocky subtly tilts his carapace to the side. I’ve learned that this particular stance is the Eridian equivalent of a furrowed brow and a concerned smile. I know what he means and I want to melt back against the ball, but I’m too prideful. Rocky doesn’t need to see just how bad things are getting.
“I worry. You are sick.” Rocky reaches out for me through the flexible panel of xenonite. As tempting as it is to reach back out, I resist.
“I’m not some baby, Rocky. You’re not my mom.” It hurts to say and I have to stop myself from wincing, but I’d rather hurt his feelings a little than force him to go through watching people wither away again. I cross my arms and harden my expression. Rocky huffs and rolls away in his ball. I think he’s storming off but he quickly comes back with a pouch of taumoeba-coffee in his little claw. I gag. Maybe I am a baby, a crybaby who can’t eat his baby food without having a tantrum. I swallow hard.
“Eat Grace. Has coffee. Has calories. Has energy.” He nudges me gently in his ball. “Am worried.” I wince from guilt when he says this. I’ve only heard this tone from him when he talks about his dead crewmates and friends. I’m partially irritated by being compared to them, since I’m not dead, but I take a deep breath and remind myself that hunger is making me irrational. Once the unjustified rage passes, I have space to feel Rocky’s grief. I use the ball to help me sit back down and take the pouch from Rocky.
“I… I’m sorry. I’m being an asshole.”
“Is okay. I understand.” Rocky’s voice is strained. I’m pretty sure he’s not mad, though I wish he was. I’d highly prefer anger over fear. I’m tearing up again just from Rocky’s voice.
“Stop acting like I’m dying,” I snap before I’m able to stop myself. I pause and sit up. “I… I’m just rationing my food. “Sorry,” I say again. Why can’t I keep my mood under control? Oh yeah, it’s because I am dying, as much as I hate to admit it. I didn’t plan on surviving after we got to Erid, but now that there’s hope that I can survive longer by eating taumoeba, I have to make a conscious effort to be careful with my food. I’m saving some of the actual food for celebratory moments or mental-breakdowns, and some so I can potentially help the Eridians synthesize half decent food for me in the future. Before I know it, I’m crying again. It’s getting worse, I’m getting worse. I can’t hide my tears from Rocky anymore, which means sooner or later he’ll know that I’m actively dying.
“Grace no die. You eat more.” Sooner it is, I guess.
“I’m not dying,” I insist, trying my hardest to stop crying for the millionth time. Rocky makes a sound that I can only compare to growling.
“No lie!” He’s whimpering now, too. I’m crying again. Why am I like this? “You no lie. I am not an idiot. Eat more!” He scurries over to my storage of coma slurry and brings me a tube without any taumoeba. “Eat this. No complain.” My heart can’t take how sad he sounds so I oblige; pouring the substance into a cup of water and drinking it as fast as possible. I gag but manage to get it down rather quickly.
“Happy?” I grumble. I grimace when I feel another one of my teeth wiggle and the aftertaste of coma slurry mixes in with the blood from my gums. It's my turn to whimper. Once more I collapse onto his xenonite ball. I hold it close and pretend that it's possible that I'll ever hug anyone ever again. Heck, I'd be okay if I could hug just Rocky. But we are literal atmospheres of pressure apart, and I'd burn in an instant in his air. At this point, I'm in so much pain that the idea doesn't bother me. Maybe a hug from Rocky would be worth it.
“No happy… can't comfort.” He presses himself to the xenonite wall as much as he can, like he's trying to hug me back. I sniffle. And press my forehead against him.
“How can I help, question?” he hums. God, he's so sweet despite my shitty behavior.
“You've been doing all you can. You're doing great buddy… I'm just fragile right now.”
“Tell me. What you want, question?” I want to live in an alternate universe where I'm not dying of starvation, where I'm safe in bed on earth, and Rocky is still right beside me. One where he can hug me, too.
“It's nothing possible, Rocky. I just don't want to be sick and alone.”
“Grace not alone. I am here.” Rocky adjusts his ball so that the flexible panel is facing me. He gently taps my cheek with a hand. My eyes squeeze shut and I lean into it. After a minute, I basically nuzzle into it to stop Rocky from asking more questions.
“Yeah… You're here…” I mumble.
“How do I fix, question…?”
“You can't fix this, Rocky. But it's okay…”
“You still have sleep food for… more than one year. We will arrive at Erid in a year. You eat now, and later, we make new food for you on Erid.” He’s been saying this for the past year. I understand his thought process, but-
“Rocky, I’ve told you that I really don’t want to risk it. I trust that you guys can synthesize the food I need for me, but I want to make this food last the longest in case it takes a while for you to be successful.” I can see the gears turning in his-well, not quite head, but I can tell he’s thinking.
“If you eat more sleep food, I give you surprise.” My eyebrows raise. He’s bribing me. But I’m too curious not to press for information.
“Surprise? How on Earth are you going to surprise me with anything?”
“Not on Earth, in Hail Mary.” I chuckle.
“I’ve already told you, it’s an expression.” The way that Rocky can make me smile just by being himself, despite my unstable condition… Gosh, I love this little genius.
“Do you want surprise or no?” I’m weak and I cave in. He forces more coma slurry into my hands.
Rocky’s been distant for the past few days, but I assume it’s because he’s working on some sort of ‘surprise.’ I honestly have no ideas about what to expect. Every time I refuse extra food, he threatens to cancel his surprise.
“When are you going to give me this ‘surprise?’” I ask one night before bed (Rocky insisted on giving me a 24 hour cycle on the ship to force my sleep schedule to be more consistent).
“When you eat enough on you own.” I grumble.
“What if it's not done by then?”
“Is done. I finish yesterday.” I sigh.
“Why can't I have it yet?”
“Do better tomorrow. Then you can.” He settles down next to me in his xenonite tunnel. After he caught me crying on his ball, he's been multitasking less and less while I sleep, opting to keep a closer ‘eye’ on me. He noticed that my ‘face leaks’ more often at night when I try to fall asleep and he sometimes offers to tell me a ‘bedtime story’ to distract me from the pain. Some nights he pesters me to grab an extra blanket for myself. I eventually turned the temperature up in the Hail Mary because I realized that Rocky can constantly hear me shivering. As my mass decreases, I've had to explain to him that my body is relying more on my fat and muscle to use as energy. Of course I haven’t explained that my body is also taking from my organs and my brain…
I lay down and pull two blankets on top of me. I wish turning away from Rocky would stop him from being able to see my tears, but alas. I’ve mostly gotten used to it.
“Grace want bedtime story, question?” he asks gently.
“Um… I think I’ll be fine.” His bedtime stories are usually about his life on Erid, or facts about the planet or his species. One time it was basically a guided meditation about me being back on earth… it immediately made sob so he scrapped that idea.
“Grace want music, question?”
“No thanks.”
“Want bedtime snack?”
“I already ate plenty for today… I'm still going to be rationing, pal.”
“Eridian scientists will make food for you for later. You need food for now.” Of course I still feel weak, but I’ve had more food than I’ve gotten in a decent while. My stomach feels full for once in months.
“My body isn’t used to eating this much. I have to take it slow or else I might not be able to digest food correctly.” Rocky grumbles. I shift uncomfortably on my mattress. It isn’t all that comfortable, I mean, I slept on it during my coma for a few years and now it’s been a few more. Is this the last mattress I’ll ever have? Is this the bed I will die on? Whether I survive on Erid, or I die out here in space, this might be my gravesite. Why do I have to do this to myself? Why does my brain insist on making everything 10x more miserable than it already is? I can tell Rocky isn’t surprised at all when he asks,
“Why face leak now, question?” I laugh wetly.
“Can’t you mind your own business?”
“You are my human. You are my business.” I hear him quietly tapping. He’s worried. When’s he not worried nowadays though?
“Sometimes crying helps me fall asleep. It makes me tired and releases pent up feelings. I told you that crying sometimes is healthy.”
“Are you certain question?” he asks hesitantly. “What is cause question? More pain, bones, head, mouth, skin, question?”
“No, it’s-it’s not pain. It’s a stupid thing to cry about,” I huff. Rocky balls his fists and taps them together.
“What is reason question?”
“I just don’t think I’ll ever sleep on a real bed again. I’m probably going to die on this bed sooner or later.” Rocky stills.
“We make new bed on Erid. Better bed. Bigger. I watch you sleep.”
“You’re going to watch me die, Rocky,” I say without thinking. It’s probably true. Whenever my health worsens, Rocky watches me closely. If I make it to Erid and my condition worsens, he’ll barely leave my side. He hardly sleeps anymore to keep an eye on me now, how bad will it be if I’m old and weak on Erid? “Wait, Rocky…”
“You no die,” Rocky says quietly, slowly. He lowers his carapace like he often does when sad, but now he’s quivering and making a devastating sound that I’ve never heard from him before. It’s hardly audible but something about it fills me with dread and genuine fear. I ignore my own (increasing) tears to sit up and lean against the xenonite.
“Rock? What’s wrong?” I put my hands on the wall and tremble as I watch Rocky’s form. I feel like throwing up, but somehow I know that if I did so, it would make Rocky’s condition worse too. I force myself to keep my food down for Rocky’s sake (and so that I don’t have to taste coma slurry mixed in with my stomach acid). “Rocky…?” My voice quavers too. “Rocky!”
“You no die,” he repeats. His low tones are now accompanied by what I can only describe as a high-pitched whine. It takes everything in me not to vomit.
“I’m sorry Rocky. I didn’t mean to make you-, I didn’t mean… I don’t want you to think about that now. Like you said, the Eridians will find a way to synthesize food for me once we get to Erid. Then I’ll live a good long life with you.”
“Human lifespan short. Even if we make food… You still die soon,” he whimpers. Oh… he’s crying. I shuffle my whole body close to the xenonite wall. Words fail me over and over so instead we cry together.
“I’m sorry,” is the only comfort I can give right now. The vibrations of Rocky’s crying somehow grounds me in a way I’ve missed for so long. Is it selfish of me to find comfort in his grief? I don’t know, but either way it helps me fall asleep.
It’s finally his turn to sleep. I had to make a deal with him to get him to finally do it. The terms of the deal were that if I ate an acceptable amount of food this week, he’d finally sleep again. He didn’t say it explicitly, but I can tell that he is more worried than ever about the possibility of me dying in my sleep. We haven’t talked about it. I honestly don’t even know if we’re supposed to. Somehow I’m just as socially awkward in space as I was back on earth. It’s been two days and I’ve managed to hide my crying from Rocky. This is an achievement. It’s been a few hours and I’ve just been sitting here listening to music. I watch Rocky sleep for a few more minutes as I gain the strength to go to the nearest toilet. I don’t make it there. I collapse.
I lay on the floor halfway between Rocky’s tunnel and the toilet for way too long. I don’t know how long it’s been, but the wetness around me is cold now and I can smell it in the stale, recycled air. My bones feel hard against the floor and my skin is raw. I sob. Astronauts aren’t supposed to be weak and scared and out of control of their bodies. Everything aches, per usual, and now my throat hurts too. I want my mom, who I don’t even remember. I want my friends, who I lost many years ago. I want to be back in my classroom in front of my students; somewhere I know I’m competent and somewhere I belong. I haven’t questioned myself in so long. I’ve spent years on my way to Erid finally believing in myself. I’ve had plenty of time to sit with the fact that I was a coward who was willing to give up on my entire planet for my own benefit, and I’d thought that I’d come to terms with it; that I’d become a better person, but now…
I want Rocky. He’s all I have, really. I have no way of knowing how Earth is doing and I have no idea how long I will actually survive up here.
I still don’t know how long it’s been, but I hear a rustling from behind me. My head turns to look-er, it tries, but I can’t actually see. I stifle my cries as I hear (who I assume is) Rocky roll my direction. It sounds different than usual though. Instead of questioning why, I brace myself for what’s about to happen. Rocky will find me here, say something about how gross humans are, and he’ll leave to go tinker with something. Instead though, I hear clicking… and musical notes. I shake my head to try and clear it. When I open my eyes, I let out a gasp. Rocky runs up to me; yes, he runs up to me. Not rolls. He’s in a xenonite suit similar to his little ball, but this one allows him to move more freely. Most importantly, it allows him to rush over to my side and put a hand on my face.
“Grace, question?? Alive question?” he asks frantically. He pulls me against him. It’s impossible to describe just how heavenly this feels compared to the pain in my body. The xenonite is warm against my forehead and I feel a few arms wrap around me. I can feel Rocky settle on top of me, clinging to me and crying again. Three of his arms remain steady on the ground so as to not crush me. It takes a few tries but I can finally respond.
“Rock… It’s okay. You should go back inside, you shouldn’t see me like this.”
“I no can see.” Some of his claws play with my hair experimentally and I whimper. “Pain question??” He removes his hand.
“Not from you…” I’m not kidding when I say that he wipes the tears from my cheek. If I wasn’t weeping already, this would get it started. “You-sniffle-need to go back… I’m not in a good state right now, you don’t need to deal with all this.”
“You leak on the floor, question?” he asks bluntly. I nod. “You… you are dying,” he says quietly. Rocky is clearly shaken. “I clean up. Where towel, question? Where disinfectant?”
“Wh.. huh?”
“Where you clothes, question?”
“Why?”
“I bring you clean clothes. Is obvious.” I gesture vaguely in a direction I think might be my clean clothes, but I quickly place my hand atop his carapace.
“Don’t-” I pause. “Don’t… leave yet.” Rocky stops and waits on top of me. I can feel the warmth through his suit and I revel in it. I'm already addicted to the weight of him on me. I would be concerned about his weight; he could potentially hurt me, but I can tell he's being careful and holding himself up. I trust him.
“What Grace want, question?”
“You're like a heating pad and a weighted blanket in one…” I sigh. This is the most relief I've felt in months, maybe even years. My bruises and aching joints are soothed by the warmth and I stop shivering. I know it's unrealistic but I want Rocky here without his suit… if it wouldn't kill us both, of course. I cry against him and wrap my arm around him fully. It's a bit awkward but I haven't been properly hugged in years.
“This good, question…?” he asks softly. “This help you heal, question?" It takes me a moment but I eventually choke out,
“Y-yes, buddy… it definitely does…”
“Not too heavy, question?”
“Yeah, you're good…” We stay like this for a few minutes. I'm surprised at how much endurance he has, holding himself up, but I'm not going to complain. Eventually I wince in pain and he cautiously gets off of me. He rummages around for a towel and disinfectant. He comes back with a few containers stuck magnetically to his suit.
“Which one is disinfectant, question?” I point to one and he swiftly lifts me up. He places a towel beneath me. “Which is for body, question?” I point to another one and he hands it to me. He lowers me back down and grabs a fresh suit. It's Yao’s and it's a bit big on me, but I take it gratefully. Rocky can tell that I'm struggling and he helps me change clothes.
“Pain, worse, question?” he asks.
“It's the same… I'm just embarrassed.”
“Why embarrassed? I can always hear you. No be embarrassed.” He makes a good point. I give in and let him help me. He lets me wipe myself off. It’s an unspoken agreement I suppose. He’s picked up on the fact that humans almost always wear clothes and it’s socially taboo not to. I whine in pain when I try putting the new suit on and Rocky pauses to let me rest. “I get painkiller. You stay here.” He starts to set me back down on the floor on a fresh towel but I protest.
“Rock… come back…” I sigh. I can’t get over to the dormitory right now so I let him leave. I’ve been skeptical of the abilities of Rocky’s hands within the suit, but they’re surprisingly dexterous. He quickly returns with a pouch of water and a cup with four pills.
“I give you extra. Don’t worry. I do math to keep Grace healthy.” I lean on Rocky to sit up enough to take them. After swallowing them, I look down at the hard floor where I’d been laying. There’s blood where my face had been. I almost panic until I realize the blood came from my gums while I was crying. Some of it’s dry.
“How long have I been…?”
“I not know. I sleep for eight hours. You stay in same place, question?” Rocky asks. He begins to disinfect the floor next to me.
“Y… yeah. I couldn’t get up to clean or do any science or anything.”
“You no clean from now on. You only eat, sleep, relax. Rocky will clean in new suit.” I wipe my face and eyes with a clean wet wipe.
“Was this the surprise…?”
“Yes. I need to help you. Comfort. Is this good, question?” he asks while experimentally stroking my back. I have to hold back another round of tears.
“Yeah… it’s amazing.” I sigh and close my eyes. My arms begin to tremble again and I sigh. Rocky can tell I’m unstable and he allows me to lean on him. I’m weak from his touch. I haven’t been held in so long. I’m shivering again and I would be lying if I said it wasn’t partially due to the contact.
“What you need clean, question?”
“Uh… I was gonna finally organize the lab supplies I left out the other day, and I was gonna check the taumoeba farms again.”
“I will organize later. First I take you to bed. You eat extra.”
“I’m already eating a lot! If I eat much more, I won’t have enough to survive on Erid for very long!
“If you die now, you no can die later!” Rocky thumps a hand on the floor for emphasis. “You no can die…” I avert my eyes; I can't handle more pain. Eventually I hoist myself onto my feet with Rocky’s help and he sits me next to my mattress. I watch him as he struggles to change my mattress cover. I would laugh if I weren't so weak and so humiliated. He eventually figures it out and he helps me into bed. He places fresh blankets over me but when he moves I instinctively try grabbing his hand. He stops.
“What, question?”
“Erm,” I say. I didn't think this through… I just revel in the fact that I was just tucked in. I'm suddenly obsessed. Is it pathetic how much I'm loving this? I can almost forget just how miserable I am. “You forgot my goodnight kiss,” I joke. Rocky tilts his carapace.
“I can no kiss. I do not have mouth.” I laugh awkwardly.
“I know, I just mean… You're acting like my mom or something.” Rocky shifts next to me. I think he wants to say something, but he's refraining. My smile fades and I lie down. My head is throbbing and my muscles scream at me.
“Have good sleep, Grace,” Rocky says quietly and heads to his airlock. He comes back over in his tube and settles down next to me. “You sleep. I watch.” I nod. I pretend that the warmth around me is the warmth from Rocky’s carapace, and my own arms wrapped around me are Rocky's.