Chapter Text
1.
“Rocky,” said Ryland. “Can you leave George alone, maybe?”
Rocky did not pause in his tinkering with the skeleton for a moment. Need to study. George skeleton not busy.
“He’s only not busy because you took his legs off,” called Simon from above them. He was perched in the branches of one of the thicker trees in the Arboretum, legs dangling freely off of a high branch, his pendant swinging from his wrist. He smiled when he caught Ryland looking up at him. “C’mon. The poor guy needs to get back to work.”
George skeleton finish work after Rocky finish study. The pitch of Rocky’s voice was flat with annoyance. Grace Simon finish work for George skeleton if so important.
“Ugh,” said Ryland, without any real frustration. “Fine. Gotta do everything myself around here.”
His neck had been starting to ache from leaning over pages and pages of research notes, learning more about the biology of the trees in the room and the life of the people who built this place to preserve them than he ever expected to know in his life. The notes from the lab and the journals from the necromancer’s bedroom wove a story that Ryland was quite fond of--of a necromancer and her students not long after the Resurrection growing a garden of trees from just a handful of preserved seeds. The theorems that kept the skeletons intact and working were the fascinating subject of Rocky’s study, but while he took apart their joints to study the necromancy that kept them together, the trees still needed tending.
Ryland picked up poor George’s discarded shovel and went to the base of Simon’s tree, rolling up his sleeves. “You feel like helping?” he called up into the boughs.
Simon was draped elegantly over a thick branch, head resting on his arms as he gazed down at Ryland. Ryland secretly hoped he wouldn’t move, that he would stay looking so pleased and comfortable for just a little longer. “Nah,” he said. “I think you got this.”
Ryland smirked. “You’re just here for the show, huh?”
“Yeah.”
Ryland laughed to himself as he got to work, using the long-handled shovel to clear away the piles of seeds and bark that had built up around the roots of the tree. He had spent days watching the skeletons work, taking careful notes and cross-referencing with the extensive literature found in the lab and the newly-discovered greenhouse to figure out exactly what each one was doing. George’s job, he had learned, was to tidy up the sycamore trees to keep rot from building up, while still leaving a good layer of organic material to feed the bugs and smaller plants that accompanied them. If Ryland didn’t do a good enough job, then George would come and fix it up for him after Rocky put his legs back on. He felt the skeleton’s empty eyes on him, non-hostile thanks to the newly made pendant around Ryland’s neck, but judgemental all the same.
They weren’t the only eyes on him. Simon’s gaze was hot on him as he worked, and Ryland took extra care to flex his back and arm muscles to best effect as he gathered sycamore seeds and fallen leaves into a waiting bucket. He heard Simon climb to a different branch as he rounded the tree, Simon obviously vying for the best view. Struck with sudden inspiration, Ryland pulled off his shirt and tossed it over towards his research materials, hearing Simon’s appreciative hum from the branches above but not giving him the satisfaction of looking for his reaction. He simply got back to work, letting Simon enjoy the view of his scarred back as he worked.
Grace temperature problem, question? asked Rocky with an amused quaver, still tinkering.
“Yeah, just a little hot,” said Ryland.
Simon snickered. Ryland thought he heard him mumble, “More than a little.”
Ryland dumped a pile of seeds into the bucket and stuck the shovel into the dirt to lean on it, looking up at Simon. “What was that?”
“I said you’re hot,” said Simon.
Ryland grinned up at him, Simon smiling a delightfully satisfied smile as he watched Ryland flick sweat from his chin. “You think?”
Grace could make skeleton to do work, Rocky pointed out. He was starting to pick apart poor George’s metatarsals, lining them up to watch them reconnect and taking thanergic measurements.
“I don’t mind,” said Ryland. He lifted another shovelful of leaf litter into the bucket and stepped back to survey his work, more or less pleased with the outcome. He was sure George would have opinions, but it would do for now. Setting down the shovel, he felt around the trunk of the sycamore until he found the gentle ridges and branches that Simon had used to pull himself up, climbing easily into the branches of the tree to sit next to Simon on his perch. Simon’s smile widened as Ryland lifted himself up, easy in the lower gravity, and came to a rest straddling the same branch Simon was lounging on.
“Hey there,” he said, scooting himself forward until he was pressed up against Simon. He didn’t think he was ever going to get used to the way Simon looked at him, like he was the only thing worth his attention whenever he was nearby. Simon swooped in for a kiss as soon as Ryland was in kissing range, a quick, warm peck that made Ryland feel silly with fondness. “How’s the view from up here?”
“Better now,” said Simon, eyes traveling from Ryland’s face over his exposed chest. Ryland could hardly believe that someone who looked like Simon would get so much out of looking at Ryland without his shirt on, but such were the miracles of the world, he supposed.
Ryland leaned further into Simon, upsetting their balance and making Simon squawk as he scrambled to hold onto the tree. It didn’t matter much--in the Arboretum’s gravity, a fall from even this height couldn’t do more than bruise their egos, but Ryland still liked the way Simon grabbed onto him for stability. He was laughing, a sound Ryland was starting to appreciate as one of his favorites. “Yeah?” he murmured into Simon’s neck, planting soft kisses there even as they tipped precariously on the bough. “You like what you see?”
Simon let go of the branch with one hand to grab Ryland’s face, and then they were both tipping off the side, Ryland holding onto Simon for dear life as they slid off the branch and tumbled inelegantly to the ground. Simon’s back hit the grassy earth first, Ryland’s hands wrapped around his neck and skull just in case they landed too hard.
Grace Simon hurt, question? Rocky didn’t sound too worried, but he at least paused working on George.
“We’re fine, Rock,” said Ryland, unable to take his gaze away from Simon’s laughing face below him, in no hurry to get up from Simon’s lap. Simon’s hands rested so comfortably on his hips, a tender weight that fit like an old sweater. Warmth bubbled overwhelmingly in his chest, and the only thing he could think to do to relieve it was bend forward and kiss the laughter from Simon’s lips.
Grace Simon find useful research to do in Arboretum, chided Rocky. Happy happy happy that Grace Simon happy with mate. Rocky not happy if need to wait for Grace finish research later.
With a long-suffering sigh, Ryland rolled off of Simon, gathering his things and clipping one of Rocky’s new necrophage mini-tanks to his belt. Simon looked down at the translator, something he had been needing to do less and less frequently these days. “Fine,” he said. “I’m gonna go get more documents out of the greenhouse. Simon, you want to come with?”
Simon was already leaping to his feet. “Of course. I can help carry.”
If Grace Simon not return before twelve hundred seconds, Rocky come find, warned Rocky. Research now. Mate later.
“Relax, bud!” Ryland could feel his face prickling to a humiliating shade of pink. Simon burst into another delightful round of laughter next to him. “We’re just gonna get the documents. Promise.”
“Although, now that he mentions it,” Simon murmured into his ear.
Ryland could feel his whole head turning an even worse shade of red. “Come on,” he said, unable to keep a smile off his face as he pulled Simon out of the tree room.
---
“New ligament ready!” said Rocky, stepping happily from foot to foot in front of the air conditioner as he waited for his temperature to come down. “Simon ready for replacement, question?”
Simon lifted his head from where he had been helping Ryland carry artifacts up the ladder into the lab. Oh, he said. It’s okay. I can finish this first.
“Finish later,” said Rocky. “New ligament will help Simon carry things better.”
Go ahead, said Ryland. I can get the rest of the small stuff packed up.
He climbed back down the ladder, and Simon came over to sit at the lab bench closest to Rocky, laying his bone arm on the table. Rocky figured he had probably cooled off enough, picking up his newly constructed ligament and carpals as he came over to join him.
“Problem with rotation and bearing weight also due to attachment points,” he explained. “Could disconnect and reconnect, but stronger if Rocky replace entire ligament and connected bones.”
Sounds good. Simon seemed a lot less nervous than he had the first time Rocky had worked on the arm. His heart rate was more or less normal, and he held his body loosely instead of tightening all of his muscles in a threat readiness display. Rocky used the smallest bursts of necromancy that he could to detach the bones from his hand that the old ligament attached to, relying more on tools to pop it free to minimize the amount of heat he generated. The bones came loose easily with the combination of forces, and Simon made no indication that the heat was too much.
You made this out of Ryland’s bone marrow, right? asked Simon as Rocky unwound the offending ligament from the other tissues of Simon’s wrist.
“Yes!” said Rocky. “Easier to make smooth bones in correct shape. Can use mature bone and mold into shape, but finished bone is more brittle.”
That’s actually kinda interesting, said Simon. He watched, showing no signs of fear, as Rocky finished untangling the ends of the ligament, detaching them from the shoulder joint with another two tiny bursts of necromancy. Did you know that Ryland would be able to, um. Kind of. I don’t know. Connect with it?
Rocky threaded the ligament out of the arm. “Knew it was possible. Did Simon observe this, question?”
Um, yeah, I guess so, said Simon. He was being unusually cagey. Rocky added that to the ever-growing matrix of information in his mind relating to Grace and Simon’s mysteriously mended bond and newly-developed mateship, with no idea how it fit into the other information he gathered. He knew that humans would consider it rude to pry, but Rocky was nothing if not curious, and honestly a little disappointed at missing the opportunity to observe the process for himself.
“Grace maybe lose connection over time,” said Rocky. “Uncertain. Rocky not make replacement arm for other human before.”
Oh, said Simon. His voice was quieter than usual, which Rocky usually associated with disappointment in humans. That went into the matrix as well.
“Rocky could also replace fingertips if Simon want connection,” he offered. “If Grace agree, Rocky make new bone from new marrow. Make connection stronger.”
Simon loudly swallowed some of his mouth fluid, turning his face away from Rocky. Now his pulse was starting to pick up a bit, some tension coming into his body. It didn’t seem like fear or pain, though, but more like the kind of way that Grace tended to be more often than not. Uh, I don’t know, he said. I’ll, um. I’ll ask.
“Good good good,” said Rocky. He threaded the new ligament through the cables of tissue along Simon’s arm, checking with careful touches that the sinew still rotated safely into place with Simon’s full range of motion. “Success! Rocky attach now. May be some heat, tell stop if too much.”
Simon stuck his thumb out from his fist, and Rocky got to work. The hand bones fit right back where the old ones went, the ligament stretching from them at a slightly different angle than they had before. The old cartilage that had held them in place was still good, and so Rocky moulded it around the new bone until they sat as neatly in place as bones in a human’s fleshy arm. Once he had worked out any air bubbles in the soft tissues, he moved to the attachment points at the elbow. “Rocky very happy Simon stay with crew,” he said into the silence as he worked.
Simon seemed surprised, the patches of hair over his eyes stretching upwards. Um, he said. Thanks.
“Simon a good friend to Rocky and Grace,” Rocky continued. “Rocky enjoy Simon company. Enjoy talks with Simon.” Rocky tapped nervously, trying to find the words. “Rocky suspicious of Simon when first meet. Apologize.”
Hey, you’ve got nothing to apologize for, said Simon, his face pointed down at the table as Rocky attached the new ligament. I mean, you had a good reason. I get it.
“Rocky make Simon feel not welcome,” said Rocky. “Good reason, but still not kind to Simon. Both true. So, apologize.”
Well, thanks, said Simon. Apology accepted.
Rocky finished up attaching the ligament, pulling his hands away before they got too hot against the fresh tissue. The placement looked perfect, and as Simon twisted his arm experimentally it seemed like it was working as intended. He picked up a storage box from the table next to them, feeling the way the ligament shifted with the weight of it in his hand. That’s so much better, he said, baring his teeth in a smile. Thanks!
“Good good good!” Simon set the box down, standing up from the table. Rocky decided to try to push his luck for some answers. “Does Grace connection to Simon arm have to do with mating, question?”
Simon stared at him for a moment, and then checked the translator. Um, he said. Uh. Yeah. Kinda.
“How, question?” Simon started to tense up, and Rocky saw his opportunity slipping away. “If Simon explain how, Rocky can improve Simon hand for mating functions.”
Simon’s face tipped towards the ladder to the dormitory. Below them, Grace was still loading ancient equipment through the cargo hatch Rocky had made in the floor, bringing smaller things into the room in piles in order to carry them all up to the lab in one trip. Simon must have understood some of that from his own, less sensitive hearing, because he scooted closer to Rocky, lowering his voice.
Okay, he said. Just between you and me, though.
---
All done with the arm? asked Grace.
“Success,” said Rocky. Grace had come up to the lab for a quick coffee break while Simon took a turn carrying some lighter things into the ship. “Ligament now works much better. Also improved joint coverage in fingers for less pinch points.”
Grace tilted his head to the side. Pinch points? Why--?
“For safe mating. In case Simon need to fuck Grace with bone fingers.”
Grace choked, spitting his coffee all over the lab.
---
“You’re sure?” asked Ryland, for what had to be the millionth time.
“Oh my god,” said Simon. It had been sweet the first few times, how concerned Ryland was about backing out on his offer to hand the entire research commission over to Simon, but now it was starting to get annoying. Simon had been the one to offer it, after all. “Look. If you gave it to me, what I’d honestly do with it is just buy stuff for the mission. Except I don’t know all the bone stuff you two need, and so I’d probably end up getting the wrong things.”
“You’re sure there’s nothing else you want?” asked Ryland.
Simon thought about it. “Mineral oil, for the sword.”
“I mean other than supplies you need,” said Ryland. “What about a new sword?”
“Oh.” Simon had to consider that. He still wasn’t entirely able to shake the fear that somebody would come looking for it. But it really was a nice blade, and a little bit of elbow grease after their mission had gotten it into even better condition. It was a nice length and weight, and after what he had been through with it it was hard to imagine parting with it. “I think I’m good. I like this one.”
Ryland scratched his head. “Tell you what,” he said. “When we get to the Fifth, you can come food shopping with me and pick out whatever you want.”
That did sound immediately tempting. Ryland was a really good cook, but Simon had only just started to get far enough away from the Ninth prison to start remembering and missing the foods he used to eat. “Yeah,” he said. “Deal.”
“Awesome.” Ryland sat back down at the table, looking like he might finally be ready to let it go. Simon sat down next to him, peering over his shoulder at the printed diagram of a great big temple.
“So,” he said. “What’s the story with this place?”
Ryland’s face lit up. “Oh, so it’s actually been studied before, but since it’s got an actual historical site designation, it’s going to be a little more complicated. Let me show you the floorplan.”
Simon rested his head on Ryland’s shoulder as Ryland shuffled through his papers, excitedly telling Simon all about the structure they were on their way to explore. According to his notes, it was a temple filled with hundreds of ancient skeletons tending the altar of a long-forgotten deity. Ryland was excited to try and discover more about the deity and the people who worshipped it through his psychometry. Ryland explained in breathless, rapid sentences that he wanted to fill a gap in existing research by looking into the skeletons themselves, and the people they used to be. For that, Rocky’s understanding of constructs and Simon’s ability to take down skeletons without tainting the site with new necromancy would come strongly in handy.
“So, what do you think?” asked Ryland, beaming at him.
“I dunno, I guess it sounds cool.”
“But does it sound worth it to you?” asked Ryland. “Like, do you want to go explore it?”
Simon was confused. “That’s what we’re doing, right?”
“Not until it’s unanimous,” he said.
When Simon still didn’t respond, still trying to understand what Ryland was saying, Ryland shifted so that they were face to face. His forehead was almost close enough to touch Simon’s, his big blue eyes looking up at him over the rims of his glasses. “You’re part of this crew,” he said. “All three of us have to agree on missions. If that sounds like something you’re not into, then we aren’t going.”
“Oh,” said Simon, all other words failing him. It hit him harder than maybe it should have, something as simple as getting his opinion on their missions not that grand or surprising compared to everything else, but Simon found a hard lump forming in his throat the more he thought about it. He really believed it, too, when he looked into Ryland’s face. One word from him, and he and Rocky would scrap all their plans to investigate this temple. It felt like more than he deserved, but that seemed to matter less now. It was what he had. He loved it.
“Let’s do it,” he said. Ryland beamed, lifting himself off of his stool to kiss Simon enthusiastically. They were both smiling so widely that the kiss was more tooth than lip, but Simon couldn’t care less.
“Sounds like a plan!” said Ryland. “Let’s do it.”