Stellar Tides

by Hydnora

Summary:

Humans are a restricted species; banned from joining the ranks of the flourishing extraterrestrial community outside our solar system. It is the law that they remain ignorant, and they do - until today.

Pulled from everything you've ever known, you awaken at a facility in the far reaches of space. Your only company is the eccentric, if not a bit obsessive, researcher, Dr. Sun Solair. He appears to want to help you; and you have no choice but to believe him.

As the only human in a universe far larger than yourself, you must rise to the occasion, weathering betrayal and learning to trust your instincts in a place that won't let you keep a low profile.

** This fic's story is based on/inspired by an ASMR script by u/Turt1eShark, and the first few chapters follow it rather closely. This story is also finished, and I'll be uploading weekly or bi-weekly with plans for a part 2! **

Chapter 1: The Sun in Space

Notes:

The premise for this story is based off an ASMR script by u/Turt1eShark called "I.T.A.R.A. Logs: The Human Incident". You can find the masterlist of her scripts on her reddit! I've also added a lot of different sci-fi references/easter eggs, you might see things referenced from games like Stellaris and Outer Wilds, or the show The Expanse.

Also, before anyone comes for me, I was using the M-dash long before AI came in and took it from us 🥲

You awaken slowly.

Your mind lifts through the darkness as consciousness returns to you, sound and smell reaching you first. It’s cold, wherever you are—and you can smell something like disinfectant. Your throat is painfully dry, and while shock should be coursing through you, you find your mind is sluggish. A low ache radiates from the base of your skull, a headache nearly fully formed.

Was I in an accident? You wonder. You can’t seem to open your eyes properly. Your hands travel to your sides. You are propped up on a soft surface, the cushion beneath you not dissimilar to the plastic cushions on an exam table. Though perhaps, more like… a dentist’s chair? Your fingers find their way up your arms. No IV, no injuries make themselves kno—

Ouch.

There’s a sore spot on your upper arm— tender, like a bruise. You attempt to lift your hands to your eyes, which still can’t seem to open, but your hands are stopped midway. It’s only then you notice the bracelets, lightweight and tight on your wrists. You feel out the bracelets and find cables attached, preventing you from reaching further than your chin.

Hand…cuffs?

You attempt to sit up from your reclining position, but your forehead meets resistance.

It occurs to you with cold awareness that the panic you expect is simply not forthcoming, and you begin to wonder if the fog in your mind isn’t normal waking grogginess.

With the silence of the space you’re in, you wonder if this is really a hospital. You can’t pick up any movement at all. And with the restraints… were you being detained somewhere, had you done something wrong? You aren’t a criminal.

You try to think back to the last thing you remember, the last place you recall being—

“—do you think you’re doing? THEY are sapient, sa-pi-ent! I’m not letting you anywhere near them with that!”

A voice shakes you, grating in the sharp relief of the quiet; the question of where is now superseded by who— in this place where you are clearly not alone anymore. Someone has just entered the space just outside the one you reside in.

The voice, sharp and loud, can be heard clearly—but whoever is being scolded responds in a lower timbre, their words lost to your ears.

“Humans ARE a sapient species. Yes, yes, the tiny restricted species frightens you. Just leave, I’ll handle this myself.”

…your mind flashes through the possibilities and latches onto a conclusion you can fathom in your addled state—you’re being punked. This is some kind of joke. A hysterical giggle bubbles out of your throat, the overlap of fear and potential embarrassment at overreacting giving you pause.

“This–” you cough, “this really isn’t funny.” There is no reply. You feel silly.

You imagine the setting of an escape room, the one you and some friends did together the year before. You imagine hidden cameras and your friends laughing at you from behind the scenes. For a moment you can almost believe it—

“...not how we handle interspecies contact. And now, I have to go in there and somehow repair....” the voice has lowered to a mutter.

—But you can’t make it make sense. Your friends… wouldn’t do this. The throbbing in your shoulder. Your head. Your last memories were… Unremarkable. The small woods near your home. Autumn leaves. A rush of wind, and then—

Unease spirals just beneath your diaphragm, splitting through the haze. Your mind is rapidly coming to, and fear is settling over you, spinning and spiraling and hardening into panic that resembles a stone in a tumble dryer.

Something opens with a clatter, and the air shifts. Footsteps enter the space.

“Human?” A voice asks. “Don’t be afraid, you’re safe!” Your thoughts stutter. The voice is male, loud and direct and doesn’t hesitate to address—well, seemingly you. Whatever you were expecting wasn’t immediate reassurance. “Despite the natural panic you must be feeling, no one here will harm you,” the person continues. There’s a pause as he waits for a reply.

“Get me out of this…” you croak, tugging on your arms, “...please.”

“Ah, my apologies!” his voice seems lighter at your immediate reply. “It appears you’ve had some time to wake up. Honestly the portal monitors are so trigger-happy…didn't know what to do when a human came through, as if they had never even gone through training…” he prattles on, and you feel cool hands on your wrists. A few quick tugs and the cuffs are pulled off.

“And now the eye covering," he says, and you feel him loosening something behind your seat. "But I should warn you first! I look quite different than what you’re used to, human, I would advise taking a moment—”

And you’re yanking the covering from your eyes before he can finish.

Blue light reaches your retinas first, the cold environment made colder by the scattering of LED-lit light strips along the ceiling. Your eyes shift downward and you register your white sneakers, jeans-clad legs still attached (though somewhat numb) and the sweater you wear with the logo of a flower shop on it. The ‘eye covering’ sits like a weighted visor in your lap. To the left, metallic looking walls. And to the right—

You jolt, sending yourself off the reclined seat and onto the floor. Your bicep immediately flares with pain and you scramble backward.

“—Ahh ah ah, see, this is what I was hoping to avoid. Human! I’m not going to hurt you, there is no need to panic.”

What stands before you is—8 feet? 9? Of talking—something. Presumably, the person who just released you. A large… yellow. Lizard-bird?

I’ve been kidnapped…by Big Bird’s half-brother. The thoughts come unbidden, and you cover your mouth to stifle a manic giggle.

“Being a little… disoriented is natural! You have some sedatives left over in your system,” he tells you. “I’m going to lift you now, human, if that’s alright?”

Your eyes are locked onto the muppet-like creature, gaze scanning over its arms reaching toward you as you assess for evidence of someone piloting this mascot suit—and then you’re being lifted effortlessly under your arms.

Ah, your mind stutters. Maybe… an animatronic…? You listen, but no motor hums and no gears turn as you are placed back on the—well. The big spooky dentist’s chair. A tense smile has worked its way onto his mouth as he observes you in turn.

A ring of feathers surrounds his face, like the petals on a flower, whose center somewhat resembles the face of a barn owl. In the center is a raised nose with two symmetrical nostrils, the tip coming down in a V shape over his mouth; his upper lip below it also points downward, forming a mouth shaped like a stretched letter ‘M’. Two large eyes sit inside the wide, half-heart shaped planes on either side of the creature’s nose. His face is a perfectly uniform shade of soft yellow. Your own eyes land on his and hold, meeting pale yellow irises set in sockets that seem to be moving closer to concern, now.

A creeping paranoia returns as you look at him, and your mind spins, trying to figure out what you’re seeing. Your brain is still trying to go back to the option of this all being some elaborate joke, and you break your gaze as your eyes frantically scan the room around him. There is a camera— your mind short-circuits as your theory is reinforced. A reality show, maybe?

“—can call me Sun. I am a researcher here at Allnet, specializing in interspecies communications. Though explaining what this place is is a bit more complicated, I will try my best to answer any questions you might have.”

As he moves to lean away, you grip the front of his jacket. His eyes widen, but he does not pull back.

If not an animatronic, you wonder, how could make-up achieve the effect of such life-like features? You scour for a seam in the mask, a glimpse of a brush stroke— but your human eyes, keen in their instinctive ability to detect the uncanny, cannot find any inconsistencies with the being in front of you.

“I assure you, this is no costume, or make-up!” he chuckles. “It’s normal to doubt what contradicts your sense of reality. ‘Normality bias,’ I believe they call it.”

There are eyelids that can be observed at close range. You see—you see tear ducts. Moisture, imperfections–dry skin…? Yes, he is not entirely feathered; the feathers end at a crested “widow’s peak” on his forehead, and his face appears entirely… scaled? Not exactly skin.

His pupils change in size minutely as he accepts your observation, shifting away from your gaze before returning, and his cheek lifts slightly as his grin twitches up on one side. A nervous tick. It was all very… human.

Your chagrined smile, conversely, has become a grimace. The creature has remained crouched down to your level, forearms casually on his knees, fists balled as if tense, or perhaps in an attempt to keep his hands to himself since setting you down. The loose sleeves of the lab coat he wears bunch at the elbows, and a ridge of feathers can be seen running in a line down his outer arms, ending midway onto lanky forearms. You observe his hands then, seeing the knuckles flex under scaled skin; the thumbs you can see—perhaps a bit further up on the forearm than on a human—appear to end in thick, blunted…talons.

Your mind spins, and the cold chill of settling realization descends.

“If it helps… you may verify for yourself. You may touch my scales, or my feathers,” He says.

And you do. Slowly reaching up, you run two fingers over his cheek. It feels… smooth. But there’s give. You pull your hand away, but there is no makeup residue. The eye on that side closes as you near it.

Someone outside was laughing at you, surely. I must be some kind of gullible idiot. You glance back to the camera, and back to the—Sun. He said his name was Sun.

…It's ridiculous. You’re pretty good at calling AI when you see it. You have always had good sense. But… here, your mind is saying “real” whenever you look at him.

“—uman,” Sun swallows, and your eyes latch onto his neck. “Ahem, maybe we should… would you like something to drink, are you in any pain...? Please, respond,” he croaks, and a puff of air lands on your face. Your hand has moved up to grip the feathers on his head, and you let go of him at once. Your hands curl into your chest as you attempt to control your panic. He doesn’t move far, his hands now fluttering upward to hover above your shoulders.

But it can’t be real, because this sort of thing doesn’t happen to people. There’s no context for this situation at all, you weren’t near any cow fields and peopledon’tgetabductedbyaliensinthewoodsand—

“Human, I’m sorry, I–”

“I—yes,” you stammer, forcing out an answer because he’s been talking to you this whole time, and damn your good manners—

“...So the drink, or–”

“What..” you start, and his mouth snaps closed. You peer up at him, and the crown of feathers around his head has perked up from its previous, flattened position. Your eyes move back down to his own, and if you’re not mistaken, his gaze almost appears… eager. “What–” are you, is this place, happened to me— “...water?” You say finally.

“Of course,” and he moves faster than you anticipated, the air shifting enough to ruffle your bangs as he stands up swiftly upon digitigrade legs. He is out the door just as fast.

You exhale a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You can hear Sun in the next room, liquid being poured. Your hands grip each other in your lap as you attempt to stop the shaking. It doesn’t feel like a dream, you think. You observe your fingers, lightening at the tips from the blood pressed out of them. You can see each irregular cuticle. You close your eyes.

“When you have eliminated the impossible”… you inhale deeply, holding it. Your head swims, and you exhale—and wince.

Hands free, you reach up to massage the base of your skull where your head throbs.

“Ah-ah, maybe don’t touch that just yet, friend.” Your eyes shoot open. Sun stands before you with a metal cup of water. “There is an… injury there… is it painful?” He asks gently. Despite his warning, you gingerly place your fingers on the junction of your neck and skull. A cool bandage, flat and smooth, sits at the edge of your hairline. You nod.

“This should help. It's compatible with you, don’t worry.”

He offers a metal cup to you, and you take it. It’s too cold, like the rest of the room. From his other hand, he holds out a small pill. It looks tiny in his palm, but between your fingers it is no bigger than a ‘Tums’, a tiny gray hockey puck that you sure as shit won’t be eating.

“...Thank you,” you manage. He nods but does not move, watching.

…He’s hovering. You wonder if he’s just like that, or maybe a cultural difference.

“You said… you’d answer my questions?” You ask, placing the pill in your fist. He observes but does not comment on it. Instead—

“Yes! Well, any I can answer. There are… a lot of rules here. But! I don’t have any intention of leaving you in the dark on the important parts!” He’s vibrating with energy.

“Where is ‘here’, then?”

“Ah, here is—well, we are in Centra One, on Kelaris! It is the central outpost managing all interspecies dealings here in the Sparkfly Solar System. It can get pretty political, but it's one of the few places that all space-born species—and some who aren’t—can gather collaboratively. Think of it as a place for different species to build relationships and share information. It’s so much more than that, but that’s the gist!” He says. His eyes had been looking away, as if imagining what's beyond the walls of the room you were in–but they shift back to you as he checks for understanding.

“Oh, I see.” You don’t really see.

“Ah,” he seems to settle down a bit. “You’re probably wondering where you come in. We were… my team and I, we were doing some routine remote work on your planet, you see. We aren’t authorized to go to planet Earth ourselves, so we pilot remote drones that can teleport items of interest back to us for study. Plant life, water samples, that sort of thing. Just… monitoring the progress there,” he explains. “The drones then teleport themselves back when the work is finished, but the last one must have… well, we really aren’t sure what happened,” he says. His face is a bit hard to read, but ‘apologetic’ might be close enough.

“Now, normally the drone must be specially prepped to bring back a lifeform—a security feature to prevent… well, things like this from happening, you see—but something went wrong, and it teleported you here.” he states it so matter-of-factly, leveling his gaze on you as he tilts his head to the side in thought. “It's a mystery how this happened, truly,” he laments, giving an exaggerated sigh. You open your mouth to say something—anything, where to start, you’renotevenonplanetearthnow—

“But well, since you’re here now anyway, it's best not to look back—” –he waves a hand as if to say ‘oh well’- “—we should instead take advantage of this unique opportunity of a human in our midst (of all things!) and learn from each other!”

He leans closer into your space now, yellow eyes shining, before snapping back as if he can’t sit still.

“And things are just going so well, you’re asking questions and not at all acting like they said you would and no violence at all…” You don’t think the last parts were truly meant for you as Sun continues to mutter to himself. He’s apparently lost in his excitement, and you observe his eyes nearly closed with glee. The thought crosses your mind, that he looks like some strange, pleased bird with its fresh kill in its claws. … An overgrown and gangly bird, perhaps, but the likeness isn’t lost.

…He seems awfully pleased that that drone malfunctioned, the thought crosses your mind.

“—Okay, please slow down. I—so I’m in some space station? Taken by accident, by a race of…aliens?” you wince. Was that offensive?

“Oh!”

Seems like he forgot you were here.

“Not one species, friend! My team is made up of many collaborative researchers from many different planets and species, who work here at Allnet. And Centra One isn’t a space station, it's a city, on the planet of Kelaris! Although, I realize now, perhaps it's hard to imagine from this room…” One of his hands comes up to pull on the tufts of feathers around his head, gently straightening a few of them between his fingers.

“I myself am of the Avesauria species! Though we are known colloquially as the Casilks. Much as you homosapians go by ‘humans’... I sometimes have to marvel at the commonalities many civilizations and species have, the milestones in particular are often very similar, much as each of us have had a stone age, bronze age, iron and technology, though the materials themselves are not always…”

You feel your eyes glazing as you listen to Sun speak passionately about the parallels in developmental milestones of sapient species. It isn’t as if it isn’t interesting, but it's hard to focus while your mind spins. As you nod along, you offhandedly wonder if ADHD exists for aliens.

Perhaps another ‘commonality’ he might enjoy, you think, the ghost of a smile pushing the edges of your lips.

“Human! Where are my manners, I have neglected…” He turns to you and trails off for a moment. “...to ask for your name,” he finishes, eyes moving over your face.

You give it to him with some bemusement; he appears pleased, rolling the name over in his mouth a few times.

“How do you speak English?” You ask suddenly, as if hearing him say your name has reminded you of the fact that he is a literal alien.

“Good question, friend! That is in fact, an excellent question! One I didn’t suppose you would… quite so quickly, rather— really, it isn’t so different from your own species' ‘live translations’ I think! Surely you are already familiar ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶e̶x̶p̶l̶a̶i̶n̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶r̶e̶d̶u̶n̶d̶a̶n̶t̶?”

“Sure—but you’re saying you’re actually speaking a different language right now?”

“Yes! But it’s translated live.”

You take a moment to glance around the room. His explanation is not nearly sufficient.

“Is the translator in the room with us?”

Sun doesn’t catch the double-meaning, but he does catch the edge of your smile.

“Yes!”

You double over at that, the full ridiculousness pushing you over. Sun looks pleased, though perhaps a bit confused.

“I’m glad you find that funny, friend. It is a… neat trick, isn’t it?” He says, though the end sounds somewhat strained.

“It is. I can’t even hear your actual language. It’s really something, but I guess I should expect as much from an advanced alien civilization,” you shrug. Your body felt far away as you said that sentence aloud. This is really real.

Sun chuckles and tugs at his collar. “We are very advanced for sure, hah-hah!” he strains out. You nod.

“Our live translations only work on videos. Humans could probably learn a lot from you guys.” It was a thoughtless, offhanded comment—but Sun lights back up, anxiety gone.

“Yes! And you will be the very first, the human ambassador I will present as proof that single-species planets are worth forging relationships with,” he states proudly, and then seems to wilt a bit.

“You see… there is a rule around single-species planets—that is, planets that only have one sapient body—that these species cannot join the Sovereign Universal Court or be represented. There was… an incident, quite a while ago now, on a single-species planet. My predecessors thought to introduce them to our fold, and the scientists at that time had been making good progress with communications. But, being an isolated species in their knowledge of others, fear and distrust overtook them. It… didn’t exactly help that our field agents went disguised as their species in order to research and communicate with them. They began to turn on each other, no longer trusting their eyes for their own species. And as the mistrust grew, so did the violence; They destroyed each other, and their world in the process.”

Your jaw was slack as you listened. Oh my god, lizard invaders in the government might actually be real.

Sun nods solemnly at your apparent shock.

“Truly terrible, I know. I do understand that it’s a mistake we can’t make again. We cannot let our own ambitions interfere with a thriving species—but! Humans are different. Remarkable, holding a full range of emotions AND the deeply curious! The markers of your developmental history are so much like the architects of the Sovereign Universal Court themselves, there are many who are interested in your kind! And your music! I should say, there is a niche group of rabid followers of human music who…”

You wince as he continues. Sun was perhaps a bit too optimistic about the… open-mindedness of mankind. Something else was nagging at you, though.

“Sun,” you interrupted. “I’m flattered that you think so highly of us. Honestly I can’t even think about how that would change our world forever, even discovering you exist.. I’m still processing my own shock,” you admit. “But the thing is… I have a whole life back home. I can’t be your ambassador, and I’m sure if you guys—I dunno, go pick up someone with some authority? They could help you out. They would know who to talk to and how to get the communications started, and… whatnot…” you trail off. Sun’s face was becoming more concerning the more you spoke.

“O-oh, well. If that's the problem, friend,” he pauses, and seems to make an attempt at regaining his enthusiasm, “it would be the case, most likely, that no actual ‘ambassador’ work would happen in your lifetime.”

You blink, and he presses on.

“Yes, since your arrival here is… unprecedented, your assimilation here would be the first experiment before communications with the rest of your species would even be considered. Call it a trial run,” he smiles at you. You wonder if he thinks that's supposed to be a relief to you. “You don't even have to worry about that sort of responsibility—so collecting someone of more authority than you is wholly unnecessary! Rather, it's better this way I think…” he prattles on ‘about less attention drawn’ to the ‘first contact event’, and once again, an uneasy feeling moves in.

As amiable as Sun has been thus far, this feels like pushback. But, perhaps you've read things wrong, surely.

“Um… Sun?” Again, his mouth snaps shut as his attention is back on you. “I can't do that either. Definitely, I really need to go home now, so…” you trail off, but he doesn't fill the silence. You slide off the chair, making to stand with your intention to leave; Sun appears to be focused on the chair still. His eyes are set on the donut-shaped support your head was against, and you notice a small bit of blood on it, presumably from your injury.

“So… thank you again for treating my injuries,” you force onward. His eyes move over to you.

His expression is blank, flat. Devoid of the warmth it held just moments before. “...and you've been nothing but kind and understanding with me, which is also very… appreciated…” shut up shut up, your mind screams as you go on, your subtle attempt at manipulation surely being clocked.

At your first step toward the door, he snaps back to himself. “Ah! Well, I see. Of course, you have a life back at your home, one that you must get back to. One that is more important than this…” it could be your paranoia, but he sounds unconvinced.

“Right…” you try to smile. “But hey, it was really… I’m happy to have met you, Sun,” you say. You wonder if it comes off at all genuine.

And yet, it appears to have been the right thing to say. “You too! I feel the same, I feel like…” he looks you over. “It would be difficult to say goodbye,” he says.

You wait for a “but” that doesn’t come; that was, apparently, the end of his thought. He seems to sense your apprehension and scrambles to continue speaking. “I wasn’t going to mention it, but you see, those of my species have an inherent… soft spot for humans, specifically. In our evolutionary history, we once had a symbiotic relationship with a small mammal-like creature known as the Monsow… and your genetics resemble it rather closely, actually. We would protect it from predators, and it would help us keep our scales and feathers mite-free. O-of course, this was far back in our history! Before even sapience!” he waves his hands as he speaks and you lean away.

“Our society here encourages each species to honor their instincts, so long as they aren’t harmful… so it’s not something I will be ashamed of! But I will say, I was surprised at how upset I became when we— w-when you were hurt,” he continued. “It is a residual feeling from a time long past, hidden in my genetic code; I understand you intend to leave, but it would have been interesting to explore it further.”

“Of course, that’s…” you were at a bit of a loss. “I think I could understand,” you pivot.

“You think… you could?” He leans in now, eyes shining. You wonder if that answer was translated differently for him than you meant it.

Not really, buddy…

“Of course. Uhh, so how did I get this…” you place a hand over the bandage behind your head, “and did I hit my shoulder? Feels like I got knocked around a bit. Would teleporting have done this?” You push the sleeve up on your arm, seeing a bruise forming.

“That is... well. Its protocol here for any newcomer to be vaccinated. Unexpected interloper or not, it was imperative," he explains. You glance uncomfortably at what you can see of your bicep, but he continues.

“And… you hit your head back there pretty hard and…were mostly out of it, flailing and kicking as you came through. We had to sedate you,” He said. You frown, having no memory of that. “I was against it! Drugging someone for panicking seems a bit… I have spoken to my team already about this, I assure you,” he clarifies.

“Is that why I don’t remember it?”

“Most likely, yes,” he nods.

“Oh—I see, okay,” you deadpan. You suppose it’s not like it matters at this point—you woke up, didn’t you? And it explained the sluggishness. “Well then,” you take another step toward the room's exit, and Sun stands suddenly. You try not to flinch. “so, how do I get home…?” You dislike the uncertainty in your voice

“A-ah,” Sun begins, stepping in your path, hands coming to hover above your shoulders. A simple enough gesture but one that puts you on edge.

“I should have…well, it’s not actually up to me at this point, I’m afraid. What happened with the drone, and the ramifications of pulling a member of a restricted species through is… well, the consensus is in deliberation,” he admits, and you feel your heart sink into the floor. Dread fills you in its place.

“Oh…” You feel the tightness growing in your throat.

“BUT! But, I promise, I will help you in any way I can! Nothing bad will happen to you…”, and then, “Nothing…” his pupils narrow to slits, talons flex above your shoulders. As quickly as it came, his expression clears. “I promise. But please, I beg you to be patient. They will come to their conclusion, and I will see that you are safely off after that.”

You look at his eyes, and wonder if you can trust their sincerity. Your body is as taut as a wire, and it takes you a few attempts even to respond. Your teeth clench instead, and you angrily wipe at your filling eyes. God, one holdup and I become a mess.

“What is there to decide on… are they actually considering having me stay as… a trial run? Could you maybe talk to them and… I don't know, explain that that isn't the plan anymore?”

“Of course,” Sun replies easily. “I will… speak to them on your behalf. Perhaps we assumed the first human would be more… curious,” he says, the last word almost a hiss. You wince at the clear… disappointment(?) in his voice. You don't like that.

Later, you would kick yourself for responding to that disappointment; as if any of this were your fault, as if you had any responsibility for the expectations of complete strangers who kidnapped you, inadvertently or not. But in the moment, you find yourself saying—

“...I'm sorry, Sun. I know it's… not what you were hoping for,” appeasement, appeasement. “I… trust you.” Flattery. “How long do you think…” You trail off.

“... I’m not certain. In cases like these, the deliberation can take a number of days. Perhaps weeks… sometimes, even months. It's, unfortunately, case-by-case,” he says. It was the wrong answer.

“No, no. I can’t be gone that long. We have to—I have to get home sooner. Even weeks is too long, I can’t…” Your fists move to your hair and you bunch it in your grasp. You force them back in front of you and push back the wave of panic. Do not lose it on the only person here that could help you. “Please. There must be a way to just… send me home now. It'll be like it never happened. I wouldn't... I won't say anything about it, even. Tell anyone.” Show you are reasonable. You attempt calmness, but your brain is running through it. “If I'm gone too long, my job, my life, my-my family—” the last word is choked.

You peer up at Sun, imploring his understanding. The image meets its mark; Sun immediately moves closer, his face the picture of sympathy.

“Hey, shhh, it’s not so bad. You’re here and safe. I already told you, I’ll make sure—” his hands come around your shoulders gently, and you accept the invite for reassurance. You lean into his torso and immediately, he’s crouching, placing his arms around you. “—make sure that it all turns out okay,” he promises.

If the promise of sending you home wasn't there, your mind was refusing to register it.

Notes:

Annnd there we have it. First chapter uploaded. If y'all want a good visual on what inspired the Casilk's "barn owl" faces, Spitefully_perfect does some incredible art of depicting that 'look' for their characters in their fic, Interrobang https://archiveofourown.org/works/59496919/chapters/151736740 . The artwork is scattered throughout the work, I'm not sure if they ever uploaded them someplace else but they're in there somewhere in the later chapters I think <3

PLEASE tell me what you think! Drop a comment to feed the author a snack, hmm?

Chapter 2: A Battle of Wills

Summary:

You learn more about the world you're in. You struggle to deal with Sun. You go outside.

Notes:

Hi, I didn't use content warnings for this story but there are definitely some struggles our main character faces. I'll add the warnings below.

Click/tab to see trigger warnings

Struggles with depression, non-intimate touching without consent, and just general icky feelings

Sun had offered to take you to a “more comfortable habitat” shortly after you were calm enough to speak again; he kept a hand on your shoulder as he led you out.

You passed through a few hallways – and while you did look around to see if you could spot other aliens, you caught only the edges of lab coats as they dipped around corners. You couldn’t help but wonder if they were intentionally avoiding the two of you.

You’ve paused at a window now, your first look at the outside.

Pink?

You blink up at a vibrant sky. Across from you is more building; the window was looking out into a courtyard of sorts, it seemed. If not for the sky, the view is utterly ordinary. Sun urges you onward, assuring you he would take you out personally when you were cleared to go. You frown, but continue on.

.

.

.

The room – ‘habitat’ – he brings you to is also uncomfortably cold, like the first. It reminds you of a finished garage; the walls and floor are a sterile white, and there is a drain in the center. It is sparsely furnished, with a bed affixed along the back wall and a table bolted to the floor nearby, with two loose chairs. All of it is ‘you’ sized.

At least, you note, the bed appears to be covered in dark, fuzzy blankets; you would definitely be making use of those.

On the wall to your right is a pocket door, much like all the others you’ve passed through.

“The bathroom is through there,” Sun tells you. “And the lights self-regulate for day and night cycles! When it is time to sleep, they will turn off automatically. Convenient, isn’t it?” He says, his eyes scanning your face.

You return a watery smile with a shrug. “Thank you Sun,” you say simply.

This room is absolutely depressing.

You move to sit on the bed—it’s soft, at least—while Sun chats at you a little more.

You learn that Sun is not only a scientist within the Department of Interspecies Communications, but he has a specific focus on humankind. In short, he’s known as a ‘human specialist’.

“I've been researching your kind for the larger part of my career; even in my doctoral thesis, I had ideas on possible methods of introduction. There are none who know more about you than I do,” he preens. You nod, and try not to let his wording rub you the wrong way; perhaps it was an issue in translation. “But do let me know if the space is not up to your standards.”

You had slept quickly once Sun left you, buried in the warm blankets. The entire first interaction with him had been deeply tense, though you wonder if it isn’t due to your own nerves; Sun had been nothing but agreeable, even if your answer had disappointed him. You really didn’t want to make the large bird-reptile-man upset… but it should have been okay to say “no” (rather, it was the only answer). Still, call it an instinct, but it felt like you were walking on thin ice doing so.

It was clear that Sun… liked humans. A lot. You just hoped that worked in your favor, rather than against.

From there, your stay had been… less than remarkable. Your ‘days’ were marked by meals and visits from Sun, as there were no windows in your white space; The ‘meals’ themselves were little more than nutrient bars. The room was always too cold, so you were usually wrapped in blankets when Sun found you. The canvas clothing you had been provided wasn’t sufficient against it, either.

Still, your appearance always seemed to make him laugh, swaddled from head to toe and shuffling around in your socks. At least the bathroom was sufficient, despite a bit of a learning curve.

During his visits, Sun would routinely check your vitals and, quite fastidiously, change the bandage on the back of your neck. The adhesive could not be removed on its own, apparently; rather, Sun would use a device resembling a flashlight to deactivate the adhesive, only to clean and replace the bandage just as swiftly.

You had attempted to question the need for such care – but he said there was a laceration there that they had treated, and it had been fairly deep. It was best to keep it covered for now.

During these visits, he would talk about the world outside and explain, at some length, about the importance of the work they do at the Department of Interspecies Communications— a name he would be repeating to the point where you wondered if acronyms just didn't translate. You had decided to refer to them as the DIC going forward.

Still, you could see their value in a place as diverse-sounding as Centra One; The DIC was only one department in a larger company focused on science innovation, called Allnet. But it was no less important. The DIC employed scientists, doctors, and diplomats whose responsibility was extensive cultural research – largely, for the purpose of successful and peaceful relationships. The DIC had been directly responsible for the invention of the real-time translator—an item you had yet to see but were assured existed—and their people work as cultural coaches and navigators, standing in as support in every level of business and government. And even more importantly, they are directly responsible for looking into new civilizations and deciding who gets introduced – and how.

Of course, the Sovereign Universal Court—the major governing body ruling over a number of galaxies in the known universe—has the final say. It's made up of a collection of representatives from each major species of the five ‘founding species’, Sun had called them. He had bragged that his own species was a ‘founding species’, and that a member of his own family represented them as a ruling member of the Court right now.

As it stands, you understand that your fate will be decided by the DIC, and confirmed by the SUC. You aren't particularly superstitious, but this does feel like bad news.

You hadn't seen another soul since arriving, and you wondered if the DIC was leaving Sun responsible for your care because of his… specialization. In truth, there was a lot Sun didn't understand about humans, though you had to give him points for trying.

He would arrive each morning with three short raps on the door, and even though he could simply come in, he would wait for an answer. You appreciated this side of Sun.

“I'm sorry for the food,” Sun said on one such day. You were nearing the end of your first week in detainment, wrapped in your nest and nibbling half-heartedly on your nutrient bar. You had asked if you could skip eating breakfast; Sun had refused, stating that 'breakfast is too imperative for human health to skip'.

He’s one of those types, you think, wincing. You had never been an early riser, and eating early made you feel a bit ill.

“The facility only provides the bare necessities," Sun chatters on. "but, we’ll get you something better later, when you leave here. Unfortunately, we’ll have to stay indoors until we can confirm you don't have any adverse reaction to the vaccines we gave you… and also, you have to quarantine before you can go outside.”

“Respectfully Sun, I don't care to see outside. I really, really just need to get home,” you insist.

“Now, none of that. You may as well attempt to enjoy your time here, since there’s nothing we can do right now anyway,” he says. There’s an edge in his voice that makes you uncomfortable.

You look away, but you can still feel his eyes on you. You wish he wouldn’t stare.

You feel something on your cheek and jolt, your eyes moving back to him. He’s brushing some crumbs off your cheek, the waxy surface of the nutrient bar sticking to your skin.

“You know, I realize that as much as you teach me about humans… I don’t actually know very much about your feelings. I often share my thoughts with you… are you reluctant to do the same with me?” he asks. Nerves skitter under your skin like bugs. Hadn't he only just brushed off some of your 'feelings', not a moment before?

“What would you like to know?” you ask carefully.

“Hmm… well, sweet,” you wince at the pet name. “How do I appear to you?” He asks. His eyes are averted from your own, and you feel a bit… apprehensive, about what he's getting at.

He’s an alien, and a totally different species from you, you tell yourself. He’s just curious.

“What do you mean?” You hedge. His fingers still linger on your cheek, and you will yourself from shifting backward.

“Ah, well. Perhaps I should start. I find you… pleasant,” he begins, his thumb moving under your eye. “I hope you don't judge me for saying so, but I would rather you understand how I feel.”

Meanwhile, you want nothing more than to abort this conversation.

“Okay,” you breathe instead.

“Do you remember… the symbiotic relationship I mentioned, and how it affects the way I perceive you?” You nod. “This.. feeling. Has only gotten stronger. I don't know what it means exactly,” He clarifies, finally removing his hand from your face. “Like a connection, a bond… familial or, maybe deeper. But, it makes me happy to see you. To care for you,” he finishes. You feel your soul attempting to escape its vessel.

“So of course… for research purposes,” he says, “I am curious to know what you feel.” You relax a bit at that, until – “And also, because I want to know,” he adds.

You take a moment to look him over. It appears there was no getting out of the question. You feel the seconds tick by, and your lack of response is beginning to create tension you desperately want to break.

“Ah, well,” you hedge. “I don't feel like cleaning your scales or feathers,” you say finally, a small chuckle trailing away at the end.

Stupid, stupid.

He blinks at you, and then – he laughs, and the tension alleviates somewhat. “Of course not,” he moves to cover his mouth with his hand, and your shoulders drop, watery smile appearing on your own face. “You have no evolutionary history with anything like my kind. But what I mean is… am I unpleasant to look at, to you? To be around?”

It's the question you had known he was asking from the beginning. And maybe it was the laughter that cleared your mind, but you realized… you could continue to misread him. A more natural smile grows on your face.

“Ah, you're wanting to know if I think humans would like you?” you ask. He seems to pause at that, but before he can reply you forge onward; “Humans are a very diverse species, so it's hard to say. But, most of them value symmetry. And you are… symmetrical. Height is also an attractive feature. You are friendly, which plenty of people appreciate. So, I think plenty of humans would like being around you, Sun.” You say confidently.

While maybe not the personal answer he was seeking, you think you’ve given him enough to work with; it’s given him pause. A smile appears on his face as well.

“Symmetrical and… attractive,” he repeats. You wonder if you've stroked his ego a bit too well.

“Do you like that I am friendly, sweet…?” He brings it back to you.

“Yes, Sun,” you answer simply.

“And… my height? Symmetry?” He prods.

“These are universally appreciated, of course,” you answer smoothly. His mouth quirks, but he nods in acceptance. You hope that's the end of it, but it isn't.

“What about the parts of me that are foreign to you? Do the feathers and scales seem unpleasant…? To… to humans, of course. But your opinion. What feelings do I evoke… to you?”

Your smile is hurting your cheeks.

“To me, you look…” you make a show of assessing him once more. Sun sits a bit straighter.

You hope he doesn't hear the garbled dial-up tone happening in your brain as you scrape for an answer.

“...like a bird.”

Fuck.

He blinks. “A bird,” He repeats.

“Yes. There are feathers, and. Such.”

The only thing smooth about me is my brain.

Sun is squinting as if trying to remember something.

“Like,” you lift your shovel and continue to dig, “when I first saw you, you reminded me of a Barn Owl. Ahah.”

There is a long pause as Sun considers your answer. Your soul has exited as you wait.

“...And humans… like these birds?” He asks then. “The Barn Owl, a well-loved creature?”

“Oh, Absolutely.” Oh he fucking took it!

Ultimately, you think Sun is at least somewhat satisfied by your answer.

.

.

.

Three short raps on the door. Time moves on, and the conversations continue this way in the following days. The returns are diminishing, on both sides. Ultimately, humans aren't meant to be contained with little to no stimulation. And the pleasant conversation is always laced with underlying strain; your attempts to inquire about returning to Earth are met with short answers, and usually a change of subject. He’s still comforting, shushing you and stroking your head—a recent development—but it's clear he doesn’t really want to talk about your concerns; His vague platitudes—“leave it to me, I’ll take care of you, it’ll turn out okay”—were starting to get old.

Three raps. By the end of the second week, you stopped taking care of yourself; the act of bathing felt exhaustingly repetitive and increasingly pointless. And while you had been supplied with grooming and hygiene products, there were no mirrors in the space to speak of.

Sun would eventually comment on it – poorly containing his excitement as he made offers to ‘assist’ you. You immediately dismissed him.

You held some resentment at that as well; Sun was still greatly enjoying his time with you, petting you, calling you pet names, and learning from you – regardless of if the feeling was mutual.

These soured feelings kept you awake at night. You imagined yelling at Sun, blowing up and burning down all the good will you had built with him. For his stupid, incompetent team and their stupid drone and his stupid, useless platitudes.

He had assured you he was doing everything he could, but with how much time he was spending with you, you were skeptical. You doubted him.

And yet, you could not force him to leave; his presence was welcome, cheerful and friendly, and even the hollow comfort he offered was… something, at least. Better than staring at the ceiling.

At your darkest points, you considered that he might be lying about everything. That they were never going to let you go home, and that Sun knew it.

It was not even a thought you could process without anguish rending you in half; but then he would visit, and the feelings were set aside once more. It was easier to believe him— after all, he said he'd do everything in his power to help you, though he never actually used the words ‘go home’—

.

.

.

Three raps. On more than one occasion, you had begged him for reassurance that time was not passing faster on Earth; you could only take his word for it. He had been impressed that humans even knew enough about space and relativity to ask such a question, and he praised your intelligence. Meanwhile, he had taken to brushing your hair – and eventually using his fingers as well. Even if you had shown discomfort at his touch in the past, he would try again and again until you stopped moving away.

He stopped pressing you about showering daily, but once your hair would become oily, he would walk you to the bathroom and would refuse to let you out until you were finished.

Usually, you would have a cry in the shower. But upon coming out, things felt a little lighter, and your conversations with Sun would be more enjoyable for you both.

And then it would be time for sleep, and you would be lost to your fears once more.

.

.

.

Sun tells you that it's been just over 3 weeks, in Earth days, ‘since we met!’. Which means 3 weeks since your departure from Earth.

And you… aren't doing well.

“I think…” Sun begins. “We should go outside today, sweet.” You lift your head from the surface of the table, your blankets draped over your shoulders. You had been giving Sun nearly nonverbal “hmms” and “huhs” as responses all morning. And while it's clear Sun has no problem chattering on by himself, needing very little encouragement, this time he didn't appear satisfied.

“Where?” You ask finally.

“There is… a lake nearby. We could enjoy some nature, perhaps?” He taps his cheek.

“Is… that allowed?” You had learned that capital punishment was, in fact, a thing in the systems governed by the Sovereign Universal Court, and you weren't interested in being fucked by the SUC.

“Well… you won't be in trouble, regardless. If anything happens I would be answering to my supervisors, if they find out. I was given clear instructions to keep you in good health, and I appear to be failing. So just this once, I will break a few rules in order to follow others.”

“Oh, rulebreakers now?” The barb you launch is dull, and you sigh a laugh into the arm now cushioning your head.

“Oh hush, just this once!” Sun retorts.

.

.

.

The outside is… pink. You had almost forgotten. The sky, many of the plants, and even the food in front of you— all pink.

“That dish is made with a fruit native to this planet – and it won't grow elsewhere, despite our efforts to cultivate it. I'm not a botanist, but I believe it relies on the unique atmosphere of this planet,” he says.

He calls it a fruit, but the texture is more like… a mushroom? And it’s salted and seasoned like meat, savory and delicious. A dream of the vegetarian who quietly misses chicken.

From where you're seated—an outdoor patio connected to a cafe of some kind—you can still see the building you were held in. In the background beyond it is the city. Presumably, this is the city of ‘Centra One’.

Most of the buildings appear connected, to your surprise. Sun told you the skywalks were installed to relieve foot traffic from the street level. You watch pedestrians move between buildings high in the sky, flying taxis and transport vehicles making their pick-ups from the walks as well.

It was unreal, though you couldn't find it beautiful exactly; at least, not in the shiny, geometric way that humans imagined a futuristic city. The matte, cream-colored buildings and their connected skywalks reminded you of partially melted cheese structures. Impressive, but a bit of a mess.

You make eye contact with an individual wiping tables across the patio; they are tall, like Sun—most everyone seems to be—and are perfectly hairless and pale, with pointed ears and a featureless face save for some subtle nostrils and a thin line for a mouth. Milky eyes do not divert when your gaze meets theirs, and you look away quickly.

“After this, I will take you to try one of my favorite pastimes!" Sun is saying. You nod. New planet, new foods, new people… it’s all a lot.

You had tried not to gawk at everyone you saw – all manner of species, mostly biped but their humanoid appearances varied; multiple arms, or claws, or backward knees like Sun. Fur, feathers, scales, skin, and…chitin? You watch an insect-like creature—person—passing through the nearby park. Their body is dark and shiny, resembling a suit of armor. And many do resemble creatures you had on earth – though not all. You glance back over and the pale figure is gone.

In short order, Sun has you up and moving again. You have eaten your fill and are satisfied for the first time in a while, and you trail contentedly next to Sun.

.

.

.

“Not to worry, I will not let you fall off, sweetling!” He says, lifting you onto the vehicle. He’s rented it from a building along the shore, and it has an uncanny resemblance to a jetski – though clearly not built for someone your size. Sun gleefully lifts you under your arms, setting you on the back of the machine. It’s wide – you feel like a child on horseback.

The lake is beautiful. The pink sky shines off the surface of the clear water, and while it was autumn when you were last on Earth, this planet and its color remind you of spring.

Sun climbs aboard behind you, gripping the handles on either side of you. Unsure of what to do with your own hands, you place them on the handles as well, just inside his own. You watch how he turns it on, inserting a thick card in between the handles. It clicks into place, and the machine starts up. It is significantly quieter than you thought it would be.

“My friends and I would spend time on an ocean planet that popularized these water striders,” he tells you. He’s speaking directly into your ear, and you shiver. “My friends and I would go out all the time. I think I was with them the last time I was on one!” he said.

“The ‘rowdy merchant’ friends you talked about before?”

“Yes! They’ll actually be on this side of our galaxy soon – one of the nearby systems has a festival around this time that they always set up shop at. They usually stop by to visit. Perhaps you’ll meet them, ohh, they would just love you!”

Sun gradually speeds up until you are both gliding along the surface of the lake. You pass several docks with vaguely humanoid shapes enjoying the water. One of them waves. You find the action so familiar, you don’t hesitate to wave back. Some things must be universal.

—

Meanwhile, Sun doesn’t remember the last time he has enjoyed himself so much. He thought he couldn’t be happier than the day you had come through the drone; he had caught you in his own arms, the warm sensation of seeing a human in person unlike what he had even dreamed – even while you kicked and screamed. But this was even better, enjoying something he loved with a human – a nice, kind human. The human that was you.

Leaning forward a bit more and resting his chest lightly against your shoulders, he could just make out your expression as you watched the scenery pass, eyes squinting in the wind with a small smile on your face. His heart swells.

—

Sun holds out a hand to help you down from the strider, and you accept it without a thought. Your hair is windblown and your cheeks and nose chapped by the cool air, but you feel better than you have in a long time.

When your feet touch the ground, there is a bounce in your step, and you turn to Sun with a smile and a “thank-you.”

“No— you're— PROBLEM”, he says, and cringes.

“Problem?”

“N-no problem. You're welcome.” He says flatly. You laugh and wonder if he realizes you were giving him a hard time. And then his fingers are pushing back your bangs from your face, and you still.

“Apologies. You just look so…” he begins. Your smile freezes.

You understand that Sun is working through something instinctual (probably). You are still avoiding making assumptions on what this even is, to him. Best case, you feel he adores you in the way an owner adores their pet.

And yet, trying to be understanding with Sun's feelings evokes a similar, visceral response to the discomfort of being told “I love you” by someone you don’t love. You want to be nice; but you can’t even hope to put in half the sincerity he treats you with.

“You look radiant," Sun finally finishes. “Alive. Happy. I… want this. To, ahem, see you like this,” he stumbles through it, and then seeming to sense he went a bit far, removes his hand from your face and adds: “Its gratifying. Like scratching a primordial itch I hadn't realized needed scratching.”

“I'm… glad, Sun,” you say simply. But he isn't done.

“I want to give you something,” he says, reaching into his coat pocket.

The item is no larger than a plum, and wrapped in cloth. He places it in your hands. “Oh, as I thought, it looks much larger in your hands than in…” he begins to say, and your eyes glance upward at his unfinished words.

He’s frozen, and his face is an astounding shade of deep orange.

Your eyes shoot back down to the gift and you try not to visibly cringe. “Thank you Sun. Can I unwrap it?” you hope you sound neutral.

“O-of course!”

Unfurling the cloth is… some kind of gem? A vibrant blue sphere with a translucent, opalescent quality not unlike a pearl. You can see green flecks marking the surface here and there.

“Oh. It's… beautiful,” you tell him honestly. You hope he doesn't share any special significance it might have with you.

“This stone has meaning to us,” he says.

You sigh.

“We give it to someone we believe… we were meant to meet. Only people of significance that affect us profoundly, affecting the course of our very lives. I… don't know exactly what brought you here. A simple malfunction, or some kind of divine intervention. And I know your time here has been… hard. Harder even than you might have me believe,” he pauses.

For the first time, you look up from the pearl. You are met with a knowing look, and suddenly you feel a bit chagrined, like he’s seen through you somehow.

“But I still feel that… selfishly, for me, meeting you was a gift. And I hope that for you—”

A trill rings out from his jacket pocket. Sun pauses. You half expect him to silence it and keep going, but this time he pulls out the device and checks it.

“Oh no,” he breathes. You're on alert now, already putting the stone in your own pocket. “Its my supervisor. He's calling to meet me… outside of your room,” he says.

Dread fills you. “Can we beat him there?” You ask. He's taking your hand and you are jogging to keep up with him.

“It's… extremely doubtful we can make it before he does,” Sun says. “But please, don't say anything. If he asks you anything, let me answer.”

“But–”

“Please. I just… have more experience speaking to him, and I want to make sure I’m the only one who takes the fall for this. These actions were my own choice.”

And the fact was, he was right.

 

Notes:

Sun: You like me right? But not like I like you. Unless...?
Reader: Humans sure do like birds
Sun: *gives stone representing his ardent intentions*
Reader: *accepts*
Sun: *steam rising from ears, mind in the gutter*
Reader: Oh boy a rock. Just what I wanted

Thanks for reading! Lot of world building in this one. All will be revealed next chapter. Look forward to it :-)
Leave a comment to give the author a little snack, hmm?

Chapter 3: Undone

Summary:

It all hits the fan

Notes:

Something to celebrate, I finally separated out the finished story into chapters - there will be 27 chapters in total for Stellar Tides! 🥳 The last one will include an epilogue for a part two, which I have some scenes written for already. Thank you for taking this journey with me-– kisses to those of you who stick with me for the 6 months it will take me to post all of this, and for those of you reading this in the future, please enjoy!

Click to see trigger warnings

Betrayal, grief, attempt at self-harm (kinda), lotta hurt here

You both slow to a walk as you approach your hallway. Sun takes a moment to compose himself before letting your hand go and turning the corner. You drift along behind him, worrying for Sun, your lifeline regardless of all else, and just generally not looking forward to getting in trouble.

The individual waiting by your door is the first other you've seen inside the facility since arriving here. And he looks… like an insect. Or maybe a crustacean?

He is biped, standing on two wide-set legs attached to a wide set of hips. His body then tapers up from there to the point where his head sits, wedge-shaped with two stalks that appear to be eyes protruding from the top. The ocular stalks shift as they look first at Sun, and then to you, taking you in.

His hands are not the Mr. Krabs pinchers that your mind conjures from looking at him, nor are they praying mantis sickles– though they are crab-like in their chitinous-looking texture. One appendage in the center of his palm opposes the other two, and you wonder how easy it is for him to pick a pen up off a flat surface - or if it’s a bit like playing the ‘claw game’ at an arcade.

“Doctor,” he greets.

“Doctor,” Sun returns.

He then takes a moment to greet you, much to your surprise, turning fully to face you.

“My apologies for not meeting you sooner, human. But please rest assured that we have not forgotten you; we are also working to find a permanent solution for this…unprecedented situation,” he says.

“I’m sure she will appreciate that–”

“I was not speaking to you, Dr. Solair,” the crab snaps back.

“How do you expect her to–”

“...Of course,” you answer, stepping in. What’s the harm?

Sun stiffens at your side.

“It’s no problem,” it’s been very, very much a problem. “I appreciate it. Nice to meet you too, Doctor…”

“Dr. Yura Brach, please,” he says. An unpleasant-looking grin has spread over his features. He continues; “I had heard this is customary…” he holds out a chitin ‘hand’ for you to shake.

You shake his hand. It feels like vinyl. You spare a glance at Sun, and his face appears… resigned, if the weeks of being near him have taught you anything.

You’re suddenly nervous. He did tell you to let him do the talking… had you said something wrong?

“Dr. Solair…” he steps back from you, addressing the taller doctor. “What a surprise that the human understands me,” he says. Sun lowers his gaze, and you blink in confusion. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Please,” Sun starts. You flinch, looking up at him. “We can speak privately about this. Please don’t involve her,” he implores.

“Oh no, Dr. Solair. You have just proven to me why the human should be here to witness this. What you have done…” He trails off, and Sun’s hands are in fists at his sides. “Well. It shows an egregious disregard for consent, at the very least. Miss,” his attention pivots to you suddenly. “How much do you know about your situation here? The purpose of your time here, and of this place?” He asks.

With the sudden pop quiz, you wrack your mind for answers.

“... I’m in Centra One,” you begin slowly, “Oh the planet Kelaris. I’m here–” you consider mentioning what Sun had initially hoped you would agree to, but decide against it. “-I’m here waiting for a decision on when I can return to Earth,” you say slowly. Sun closes his eyes.

“I see. Did he ever mention any other alternative to returning to your home?” He probes.

“... Yes. But I declined upfront,” you stated. “Sun said he would advocate on my behalf… to return to Earth.”

“Interesting,” Dr. Brach said, and you knew it wasn’t directed at you.

You feel your face heat in a shame you couldn’t understand, your eyes burn; The lack of reaction from Sun, and this… Mr. Krabs looking motherfucker’s smug attitude. You suddenly feel very foolish.

It was enough to know things hadn’t gone how you had been told.

“Please,” Sun implores again. “Not like this. She just needs some more time–”

“Oh, she will have plenty of that. But not with you, Dr. Solair. She’ll be in the care of someone who will help her properly, and keep her informed of all expectations. The department has reached out to our wider circle at Allnet, and they've located another human specialist that is to be transferred here. He will arrive in a few cycle’s time. I have not met him yet, but I have heard he is quite competent.”

“....What? No, that… isn’t possible,” Sun whispers.

“Now, let's review, shall we? Shall we go chronologically, or by severity? Yes, let's begin with today then – breech of quarantine-–”

“-Humans are a social species, and isolation was only damaging the potential of a positive relationship–”

“-drawing unnecessary attention to an unregistered species–”

“-Nobody has even seen a human! To the passing traveler, she would just appear as an unfamiliar silhouette–”

“-Improper security detail–”

“-She does not need to be leashed like an animal!”

“And yet you ignore her consent as if she were one,” Dr. Brach finishes. Sun seems to visibly deflate. “Nothing to say for that one?” Brach prompts.

“...It hadn’t occurred to me that she may decline.” Dr. Brach lets the silence hang. You stare, frozen, having already stepped away from both men.

“Sun…” you say finally. “What…did you do?”

It takes him a moment; but he finally turns his head to look at you. The moment runs a bit too long.

“Lets start at the beginning, shall we? With the drone,” Dr. Brach prompts. “Would you like to tell her, or should I?” You see Sun’s pupils contract to slits.

“The drone…was an acci–”

“Is that really the story you’d like to stick with?”

“...”

Dr. Brach sighs, turning to you. “What happened with the drone was no accident. We scoured the files on the drone itself; no report of a human lifeform being teleported back was even listed. But one of my team members had the bright idea to check the servers for any outgoing commands. And would you believe it, we found something,” he says, eye stalks shifting to Sun for a moment. “An outgoing directive - coded to delete itself after execution.”

Your eyes were wide, watching Sun as you listened. He doesn’t make eye contact. The crab was an asshole, but he was right. You needed to hear this.

“As leader of the project, Dr. Solair set the research location himself; Some woods with low foot traffic. There was no problem there - nothing that would arouse suspicion on paper, at least, even if it was not the original location projected for this excursion. But I see it for what it is, even if there’s no proof,” he hisses. “The drones would teleport themselves back home, but the last one received one more command from an offsite server to pull in the nearest human - one specific human. The only human who regularly walks in those woods, on that day, at that time,” he said. You couldn’t tell if Dr. Brach was grinning, or snarling, but his gums were exposed.

You take another step back from Sun, nausea beginning to churn in your stomach.

…He wouldn’t have. Not on purpose.

“She was perfect,” he mumbles. His eyes shift to yours for the first time. Your heart sinks into the floor.

No. No. No.

“I watched you… only when you were outside. Only in those woods,” he said. “You seemed… serene. Pleasant. Watching birds, running your hands over plants… I wanted to know what you were thinking about.”

You wonder if throwing up on his feet would make him stop.

“There was never anyone with you. I had hoped… you were alone. That perhaps you would be amenable to–- to our purpose. To me,” he admitted. Dr. Brach scoffs.

“A human who walks in a routine that is almost clockwork - who rarely misses a day, rarely leaves town? Clearly, a creature of habit in their environment… and you believed this human was perfect for… a life-rending interstellar transplant?” The crab says. Sun winces.

“I asked,” he insists, head snapping to Brach. “Over and over, publishing journals and studies on humans. I begged for an exception. My team wrote the book on the newest methods of seamless reconnaissance with one-hundred-percent success on other planets. One hundred!” Sun was panting, shaking. “We would never have to repeat the mistakes of the past… And yet, would anyone listen!? I asked to speak with even one human, and was denied. I just wanted a chance, and I…” his eyes slid back to you. “I stole that chance… from you. I… cannot undo it.”

“Send me back,” you breathe. It was a demand, this time. “If you’re sorry, make it right. If you regret it, send me home. I’ll forgive you, and I won’t say anything to anyone, I swear, but if you don’t make this right–” you are clutching the sleeve of his jacket, shaking it, barely moving his form.

“-Now, we haven’t even gotten to Dr. Solair’s most egregious act though, have we? You might save your words of forgiveness, miss.” Your eyes snap to the crab, vitriol on the tip of your tongue– “-How is the translator working out for you? Well I hope?” he asks suddenly. His eyes slide to Sun. “The department was not informed you had had one installed, Doctor. But surely, you wouldn’t ‘forget’ to inform the human as well… right?”

The words die in your mouth, and confusion moves in. Translator? The–-

“Is the translator in the room with us?”

“Yes!”

–the blood drains from your face. You were outside. You were– you were all over.

Where is the translator?

Slowly, slowly, your head turns to Sun. You meet his gaze as he watches you from the corner of his eye, head downturned. The moment you meet his eyes, his arms are moving, pulling you in, pulling around you. You freeze, your arms coming up to push back - but then one of his hands snakes around to rest over the back of your neck. Over the bandage.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers to you, only. “I am selfish.”

The shock must be written on your face - even pressed to his front, your eyes are wide. You reach around to the bandage - but his hand is in the way. You begin to pull on his fingers.

“No. No no no, what is it. What is it. What did you– what did you do to me–”

“Please. It hasn’t healed. You’ll hurt yourself.” He continues cradling your head in his talons, your soft fingers do nothing to move them away.

Your mind flashes back to the room you woke up in. That chair. He– he put something in you, he did something–

“I want it gone, I want it gone. Whatever it is– You can’t just–”

“Oh, but he did. He sealed your fate the moment he made the decision to install a translator in your brain stem. There is no going back to a restricted planet with one installed.”

No– this isn’t happening.

Brach continues. “He already took such a risk just bringing you here. He had to find a way to keep the Sovereign Court from sending you back. He knew he would have some time while the drone investigation was under way, and there was a good chance the Court would already deny a re-implantation of a single member of a restricted species who was taken with no witnesses,” he said. “But he needed insurance - a plan C in case the court did decide to send you back - and this gave him the benefit of being able to communicate with you in the meantime.”

Your hands continued to scratch and claw at Sun’s, and you were held tighter for it, your forehead pressed to his stomach.

“You…”

“...Altered you, yes,” he whispered. “In a way that can’t be undone. So we could get to know each other… and so you would stay.”

“Why?” your voice barely sounds like you.

“Spurs on the device… with micro threads that wrap your brain stem; you’re already healing around it. Easy enough to put in, but… not removable. Not without permanent damage, or worse,” he tells you. The first sob leaves you as a laugh. You weren’t asking about that. Even now, communicating with Sun is still…like this.

Your hands have ceased their scratching, and are now clutching his scaly fingers behind your head, and he doesn’t let up. You bite his coat as the sobs wrack your body.

“I hate you,” You grit out. “I really, really hate you.”

“I know… my sweet…I’m so so–”

“I am not… your anything. Let me go.”

“...”

A hand settles on your shoulder. “It’s time to let go, Doctor. You do not have any say in what happens to this human any longer,” Dr. Brach says. You push at Sun’s front, and he at last relents. Brach steadies you and moves to place you behind him, and you follow numbly.

“Who is the human specialist you have brought in?” Sun asks. His words are straight to the point - his face is expressionless and devoid of emotion. Brach sneers.

“I’m sure you’d love to know. It's none of your concern anymore.”

“As far as I’m aware, there is no one qualified–”

“And you would be wrong, Dr. Solair. Wrong again. You naively believed yourself to be indispensable enough to get away with this. It pleases me greatly to tell you that that isn’t the case,” Brach snarls.

Suns expression finally changes - and for the first time since you’d met him, he looks furious. But Dr. Brach continues.

“What, did you think you’d still be allowed recourse with the human, simply because you are the only ‘human specialist’ in this sector? It was a decent plan, I’ll give you that; if it had truly been the case, you might have just received a slap on the wrist at most. And yet, you underestimated the reach of Allnet. All your planning and ‘insurance’ aside, this was your most foolish gamble.”

Dr. Brach turns to you suddenly. “Human. You will never have to interact with Dr. Solair again. If I had my way he would be dispatched entirely for his actions. But he will be demoted and removed from any involvement with humans for the rest of his career, instead. Perhaps it is cold comfort… too little, too late now, but… he will never lay his hands on you again.”

You can’t respond in any way that matters, even as you feel Sun’s gaze on you. You grip your elbows to prevent your shaking hands from moving elsewhere - and for the first time, you think you can feel the thing lodged in your head.

“Go to my office. I will give you your reassignment details there, and I am not done with you,” Brach snaps.

Sun turns once more to you, and you can’t make eye contact.

“Sweet–”

“I said go.”

A few moments pass after Sun leaves, where you and the unpleasant crab stand in the hallway.

“Human–”

“Open the door, please,” you say. A numbness has overcome you - and with it, a sharp clarity. No more tears fall.

“...”

The door opens after a moment, and you enter your… cell. You approach the bed, but do not hear the door close, so you turn. The crab– you would not grace him with his title– was standing in the doorway, still.

“Miss, what happened here isn’t what we–”

“There were so many ways,” you spit. He looks down sharply at your face. “So many ways you could have told me that my life is over. So many less cruel ways you could have done that. And yet you took glee in the process. You… you…”

He had the mind to look a bit ashamed, at first. And then he opens his mouth.

“He had it comi–”

“Get. Lost.”

The door shuts with a hiss.

___

Later, Dr. Brach would be in his labs, recounting the events of the day and sorting through Dr. Solair’s notes. Say what he will about the Avesaurias, he at least was a scientist at heart, and kept very good notes on the human in his care. And until the new expert arrived, Dr. Brach has been given temporary care of said human. The least he can do is read the notes.

He had heard humans could be… unpredictable. Violent. They had a chemical called ‘adrenaline’ their body could produce that wasn’t widely seen outside of their home planet, that apparently gave them super strength. It sounded… kind of fake, if he was being honest.

But the human he’d met had been… tamer than he thought. He opened Dr. Solair’s file on the human and read through the highlighted points.

Behavioral and interpersonal:

1. Subject exhibits marked politeness and shows clear preference for interactions governed by mutual respect and social manners.

Huh. Perhaps a quality of nurture?

2. Notable emotional regulation and composure; Conflict averse, and resolution is consistently attempted through verbal exchange rather than physical action. Subject also exhibits active suppression of fear responses, overriding instinctive threat signaling through conscious regulation. Initial observations are promising and support further study, though environmental limitations appear to restrict broader behavioral assessment.

If he could hazard a guess, these first two findings were perhaps ones Dr. Solair was the most excited about. These go directly against the stereotype of their species and does give humans a good chance of positive representation within the court; that is, if the human herself is not an outlier… and not unwilling.

2.2 (cont) Subject demonstrates emotionally manipulative behavior that is nonetheless highly effective. Tactics include appeasement and strategic flattery. Controlled variable testing is required to isolate influence mechanisms. (see 8.2: researcher’s genetic disposition for affinity to the subject)

Stress Response:

3. Subject exhibits difficulty initiating and maintaining sleep. Episodes of physical frustration and sorrow have been observed

4. Subject engages in episodes of emotional release while bathing

4.2 Subject exhibits depressive episodes marked by refusal to bathe. External insistence on bathing correlates with observable improvement in cognitive engagement.

Important note: Post-bathing interactions are notably more productive.

None of this was surprising in the slightest - although Dr. Brach felt disturbed that Solair may have been breaching the human’s privacy, and while some manipulation was expected to yield results, something about Solair’s fixation on this human… gave him the ick. Well, it won’t be an issue anymore.

Cognitive & Perceptual Processes

5. Sensitive; Possesses a heightened diagnostic accuracy for identifying deceptive signals across species boundaries, marked by rapid adaptation to novel nonverbal behavioral patterns. (Possibility: smell?)

Brach furrows his brow. Humans can… smell lies? He shudders. They are perhaps more formidable than he thought. Or, perhaps Dr. Solair simply wasn’t sure how the human was clocking his deceit.

5.2. Subject persistently attempts to assume positive intent despite evidence suggesting otherwise. This behavior may represent a calculated risk/reward strategy (adaptive behavior) in response to the power imbalance inherent in the research setting, though an innate ‘people-pleasing’ disposition cannot be ruled out.

This… was not his experience with her at all. Glancing back at the human’s stress responses, a picture is forming; and he’s surprised Sun could not see it. The human may have simply been trying to survive by keeping him happy. He wonders if such a realization would have made the doctor sad.

Physiological & Biological Characteristics

6. Dentition is entirely shed and later regenerated (apparently). Further investigation is recommended, however, researcher expresses strong aversion to doing so

…He had to do a double take on that one. That…for sure has to be fake. Shedding teeth? Barbaric.

Symbolic/Cultural Associations:

7. Important to note, subject stated that the researcher “reminds her of a Barn Owl”.

Dr. Brach wonders if the human was making up stories at this point; particularly about the teeth, he suspected. He does some quick research on Earth’s Barn Owl, but does not come up with anything other than a nocturnal bird of prey - and yet, its face does look somewhat similar to Dr. Solair’s face.

7.2. Humans have affinity for “Barn Owls”. Affection may be devotional in nature. Recommend immediate background research on Barn Owls.

Ah. She definitely got him good.

Researcher Impact, Bias & Study Integrity:

8. Researcher experiences compelled affective and protective responses in proximity to the subject. Origin of influence is presumed to be subject-driven. Impact on objectivity is under active concern. Researching possible causes. Ongoing.

8.2 (cont) Affection response traced to subject’s evolutionary association with symbiotic mammal “Monsow”. Genetic similarity to subject likely triggers inherited protective behaviors in researcher’s species, Avesauria

Ahh. Suddenly things begin to make sense. Dr. Solair had never met a human and still made them his focus of study for decades. And when he did meet one, the almost obsessive behavior that followed… A genetic timebomb. How unfortunate for him. Dr. Brach has not yet been sabotaged by his own instincts, but such things have been known to happen. He does not envy the man.

Conclusion: Subject is a perfect representative for introductory species.

…And, he doesn’t envy the human, either. It feels as though Dr. Solair saw a lot, but largely what he wanted to see, in some ways. A human cowed into good behavior due to a severe power imbalance.

And a researcher attempting to introduce an unwilling representative? Well, that was simply unheard of.

.

.

.

Setting his tablet down, Dr. Brach leans back in his chair, shutting his eyes as he considers how best to proceed in the next few cycles until the new human specialist arrives.

The new specialist. Dr. Solair had firmly believed one didn’t exist - and he wasn’t entirely wrong.

This “expert” had studied humans extensively (or at least, as was possible with a restricted species). And then one day, he inexplicably changed his area of study entirely and moved far away from Earth’s solar system, to another galaxy altogether. Even contacting him had been difficult, and if it hadn’t been for the… “encouragement” of the Court itself, it was clear the expert would have refused to come.

What would make a researcher choose humans as their focus, to begin with? And to abandon the focus…not just abandon. Disown the focus to the point that the researcher lacked any desire to even meet a human, a species he likely spent many years of his life studying.

Did this scientist perhaps feel discouraged by the laws around single-species planets and abandoned the focus because of this? …It felt like more than that.

“…”

Brach opens his eyes. An unsettling feeling comes over him, one that he is hesitant to even put into thought.

What sort of scientist would choose humans as their focus... what sort would.

The more he considers it, the more likely it feels.

What sort of person - but also - what kind of discovery could one make that might be so upsetting, they would turn their back on humans altogether?

Hopping back on his tablet, he tabs over to the expert’s file:

 

Moon Nocturne.

Something about the last name nags at his memory...

... 

What is your species, Dr. Nocturne?

 

___

Loading…

.

.

.

___

Species: Avesauria (Casilk)

___

…

Dr. Brach turns off his tablet once more, and sighs.

 

Notes:

We finally here!!! I had some interesting guesses in the last chapter about what role Moon would have and where he was. It brings me so much joy to see people’s predictions.

A few things to clarify here; Sun is keen enough to realize that you didn’t fully believe him when he told you he would help you get home. He saw that you clocked his lies (by omission), and he also found it odd that you’d still play along. This is what he’s talking about in his notes, on #5. Also, Sun discovered his genetic affinity while you were still asleep, sedated from the surgery. By the time you woke up he had already done his research about it.

Anyway, thank you for reading! Sorry for the shorter chapter, the next chapter will be nearly twice as long :) I’m thrilled to finally release this one though; shit has finally gotten real, buckle up y’all– and I hope you guys are ready to meet Moon 😏
—
Side note: Guys HELP I’ve been inundated with the reels making fun of the “Y/N with the 10ft CEO boyfriend” trope and I’m fucked up about it, I’ll just say the dudes are around the 8-foot range and pretend I’m not a stereotype 🥴😭

Chapter 4: Unhappily Met

Summary:

Sun makes a discovery. You meet Moon.

Notes:

Thank you all who assisted in soothing my insecurity around the 10ft CEO and Y/N memes, haha! The videos are actually so funny, but also like... haha please stop I'll cry 😂 Tall boys aren't going anywhere, anyway.

Please enjoy this longer chapter (it was actually going to be even longer, but I moved the final scene to the beginning of next chapter, which was quite a bit shorter), and then, some art at the end, I'm not the best at character design but I can doodle a bit on procreate. Not a lot to warn about here but our girl is having a rough time :(

You are already awake when the door beeps, and then hisses open. You knew it wasn't Sun. There was no three raps, no permission asked for or given. You sit up, keeping the blankets wrapped around you.

Instead, the crab stands in the doorway, looking like he wanted to be there as much as you did.

“Breakfast,” he says.

“Great, leave it,” you gesture to the floor. He winces.

“I suppose it wouldn't do me any good to apologize?” He asks, placing the package on the floor as requested.

“Do you actually regret it?”

“...”

“Right. Was there something else you needed?”

The crab holds up a small device you're familiar with. It's the one Sun would use to deactivate the adhesive on your bandage.

“No. Get out.”

Dr. Brach sighs. “The new specialist will be here tomorrow,” he tells you.

“Sweet,” you say. When you don’t get a response, you look over at him. He’s staring at you like he’s confused, and you scowl. “Read the room,” you snap, and he leaves without another word.

You watch him go. The interaction gave you no satisfaction, and you feel just as empty as before.

Your eyes and face feel tight; you know they are probably completely swollen. You had cried until you fell unconscious, sobbing to near hyperventilation until you simply could not go on. The anguish was unreal, and you had genuinely wondered if you would wake up.

You had never believed in death by heartbreak, but for the first time, you had wondered.

And yet, you had woken up, still within the nightmare; Even as you hoped to return to unconsciousness, there was no controlling the lights here. The stark, exam room-style lights blasted down on you, and you hid from them beneath your blankets.

There was nothing to do but cry. Nothing to distract from the spinning sawblade of grief in your chest that felt like it meant to rend you in half completely.

Exhausted by the weight of it and unable to find any other way to relieve it, you go to lay back down, but something hard presses into your side. Reaching down, you fish around in the blankets until you pull out the culprit. The wrap falls away, and you’re faced with the stone Sun had given you only yesterday.

Vibrant blue, with green flecks. It’s only at this moment do you see the resemblance between it and Earth.

Immediately, your throat is closing again, and you feel the sobs building in your chest. The first few leave you and you raise your arm in anger, holding the stone above your head, poised to throw it; fuck you.

Your arm shakes, and your grip tightens… but you eventually lower it, dropping the stone and clutching your chest as you buckle at the waist. Stupid.

Cold wrath gives way to despair. You’ll never return to your life again. And the only thing you own in the universe outside of the clothes on your back… is a meaning-filled gift that looks like your home, from the person who destroyed everything.

 

___

 

Sun looks down at his clipboard, but his eyes have long since stopped seeing the words. He sighs again, pulling the hood down further over his face as the wind picks up; the sand and dirt it carried could be harsh, even for those with scales.

Glancing back up over his notes, he watches the small round creatures play in the mud. It was a fuck you assignment if he’d ever been given one, monitoring the lesser species on 718C—an arid, dusty dwarf planet off the beaten path. The few oases that existed were filled with these porcellus, the pig-like amphibians that the department believed could be a primary sapient species on this world someday. He observes one defecate in the swampy water rather get out and do it away from the herd like it should—it was about 50-50 on whether they would, honestly—and Sun sighs.

He… supposes he deserves this.

The irony is not lost on him – his projections about the possible outcomes, and punishments, had been correct. This was merely a slap on the wrist, for all the harm he had caused. His expertise as a scientist, and his otherwise spotless record, had given him that much.

And yet, to be taken from his specialty field… a cruel irony. He might have taken a harsher punishment if it meant he could return to his field—and his human subject—someday.

In his mind’s eye, he still saw you; Pressed to his front, your sobs shaking him, biting and growling as you fought against him.

He wanted to say that he regretted it. He did…want to say that. And yet, having you under his hands even in that context... the feelings of regret he expected never came.

“...”

…He must get back to you.

The emergence of another ‘human specialist’ was the unexpected variable that had destroyed his plan.

Sun wracked his brain, as he had been since Dr. Brach had told him the news. Smug bastard.

Sun… hoped you were alright. He knew you wouldn’t take the news well… he had intended simply to tell you that the court had decided you could not return. At least that would have absolved him of most of his crimes in your eyes… he would cross the bridge of revealing your new installation when he came to it. Forgiveness, rather than permission.

You would probably be… well. Disappointed for a while; and that was probably an understatement. After spending a month with you, the depth of your attachment to your life on planet Earth could not be written off, and it was clear that distractions would not be sufficient; no, it was something they would have to tackle head-on, a clean break.

…One couldn’t blame Sun for putting it off, though. Just a little. Just to enjoy the time with you.

Sun was a scientist. He knew projected timelines would have to be altered, and sometimes scrapped altogether when unexpected variables arose. He could be flexible; Yes, he had underestimated how badly you sought to return, how much your life meant to you, as simple as it appeared to him from the outside. He had already been recalibrating and accounting for the extended recovery time you would need from receiving the news – the blow to your psyche, he knew, was going to be far more than he had originally planned for. More than culture shock, more than homesickness. He had reached out to an old friend for additional psychological support, even.

The guilt he expected to feel simply never came, so, he wasn’t going to pretend to beat himself up over it; once he had made the decision to put the translator in, before even knowing how you would acclimatize, there was no use looking back or attempting to ‘fix it’. It was best to simply plan for the future.

And regardless, he couldn’t have waited on the translator; He had to maximize the time he had with his human subject, and begin building trust from day one.

So much for that.

And then… to have received the news in that way… you hadn’t been ready in the least. You hadn’t been receptive to his company as much anymore - as reluctant as he was to admit it. You’d look at him less, even while you were polite and said things to him that were almost complimentary. He couldn’t get the responses he wanted, and he couldn’t tell if you were doing it on purpose.

Speaking to you about the larger universe that you could be a part of yielded no results at all, either; so, his answer had been to show you instead. He had gotten impatient at that part, yes, by not waiting for your quarantine to finish…but he hadn’t known how long he had left to enjoy you, while you still had hope. He knew the Court was likely close to coming to a decision, and you would be in a bad way after that.

He had hoped for at least a few more outings to show you the world you could live in. To let the homesickness abate some. He had planned to show you his dwelling, a cozy space not too far from their facility, and his favorite places. And eventually when the ‘bad’ news did come, you’d at least have a taste of life here - it wouldn’t be so foreign.

And of course - he had always factored himself into your recovery time as well. He had made sure he was the only one who cared for you, the only person you knew while you were there; surely, by the time you received the news, if everything went to plan, you would rely on him to catch you.

You’d have somewhere to land that was familiar, and you would have him; you’d choose him. And he’d give you anything—his shoulder, his arms—whatever you needed, while you acclimatized. And he would carry you through it, his little human.

But now…

Snap.

“…”

His pen broke in his hand, the clipboard dented from his fingers in the other.

Who was this specialist bastard.

He had been positive that no other scientist would take an interest in such a seemingly volatile, single-species mammal… the Milky Way Galaxy alone was large enough that there were restricted species that had no specialists at all, in fact. And yet…

“...No,” he said suddenly, the word coming out aloud. A thought occurred to Sun. A terrible, impossible scenario.

He knew why he had made humans his focus. Seeing images of them, pictures, videos, and live streams through spydrone feed – the affinity had always been present. It took meeting a human to make him realize what it was, but it had always been there.

Sun strides quickly back up the path he had come from, his portable coming into view up ahead. He wastes no time pushing through the door, going straight to his computer and booting the extensive contact database.

He hadn’t thought of it before; Casilks like himself within the science field were few—very few indeed. It would be a statistical improbability, if not nearly an impossibility, for another Casilk to have discovered what he had; they would have had to have both studied interspecies relations AND done it within this same galaxy in order for humans to have even come across their radar. He hadn’t even considered it, given that Casilks aren’t even from the Milky Way.

Filter -> Casilk, Milky_Way, IntSpec

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

1 entry found

 

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.

.

Sun slumps forward in his chair with a sigh of relief, his elbows on the desk in front of him. Running a hand down his face, he rubs his eyes.

Just me, then, he thinks. But then, who was this specialist? Was it possible Dr. Brach was bluffing?

Suns sits upright again, moving back to his search. He browses through the names of those in the Interspecies Relations field—most of which work for the Department of Interspecies Communications.

Filter -> Milky_Way, IntSpec,

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

57 entries found

 

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.

.

 

Several of the names were friends of his; Freddy, for one, was a very old friend from Sun’s youth, and he and his partner Bonnie had even visited Centra One on several occasions from their base in Alpha Centauri. He had already reached out to Freddy only a few cycles ago, letting him know he would likely need his help in the near future.

As for Chica, he would be seeing her fairly soon, he hoped. He had let her know about his new station—and to some extent, why it had happened—in case she and her crew wanted to stop by after their work finishes at the Merchant’s Faire. It was one of the few times per revolution she and the other Glamrocks were nearby, and they would usually take the opportunity to catch up on Kelaris. He could use the company, and would love to see his old friends.

It wasn’t as if he was fully disgraced. One would occasionally hear about scientists who had… gone to some extremes for their research. Eccentricities were not uncommon in his line of work. And that was likely how this incident would be remembered.

Even while Dr. Brach was technically correct in saying that Sun had violated the human’s consent, un-introduced species actually had very few enforceable rights; so few in fact, their protections are comparable to captive animals, their lives and fates owned by the DIC and the Court until cleared for residency.

The hivemind who lurked around the facility were always looking for new species to integrate - and even they knew to ask for permission from the handlers, as the subject’s own permission would mean next to nothing.

And even with the rights they did have, there was also plenty of gray area for research in service of the ‘greater good’, the definition of which is left intentionally vague to allow for a certain amount of flexibility.

No, Sun's true crimes, at least on paper, had more to do with disobeying protocol, and of course a healthy amount of spite from his superiors in the DIC for all the paperwork they were now having to do. But ultimately, one human was a negligible expense for Allnet.

Now, if Sun had taken someone of more public importance or left witnesses—basically anything that might cause civil unrest on Earth—things would have been a lot worse for him. Instead, he’d been slapped with a warning by the Court, and reassigned by Allnet.

Sun finishes looking through the names, sitting back in his chair.

57 entries, but no one else stands out to Sun; he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I have reached out to some contacts and asked for another human specialist to be transferred here.”

Sun opens his eyes. The words Dr. Brach said replay in his mind. Transferred. He had assumed he meant from a different system or sector, but… was it possible this specialist wasn’t even in the Milky Way Galaxy? But, that would be ridiculous. Why would a human specialist not even live in the galaxy where humans reside?

A search for all researchers in the interspecies fields for all galaxies would be far too broad. If the specialist really is from another galaxy, this only makes his search harder, not easier.

Filter -> Casilk, IntSpec

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

1 entry found

 

.

.

.

It would appear Sun is the only Casilk in the Interspecies Relations field in every galaxy under the Sovereign Court’s jurisdiction.

Figures.

Out of curiosity, he removes the Interspecies filter to see how many Casilks there are employed at Allnet, in any field, in total.

Filter -> Casilk,

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

2 entries found

 

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.

.

Only one other?

 

...

 

A Casilk, from the Nocturne family of all things, studying microbiology in the Gloaming Galaxy. There shouldn’t be any overlap there.

It feels… improbable, surely, but Sun is nothing if not thorough. The search function is nothing more than a directory of names, but having a name is enough in the science community; he can find every paper published by this researcher.

He runs Dr. Nocturne’s name through Allnet’s library database. The system is archaic and slow, and Sun attempts to bend out the dents he made in the metal clipboard while he waits.

The search has long finished by the time he looks back to the monitor again, and his bored expression transforms instantly.

Papers upon papers. About humans. By one Dr. Moon Nocturne.

—

“Please make sure your seatbelts are securely fastened. The shuttle will be touching down soon.”

Moon’s eyes scan the documents that were forwarded to him from one Dr. Yura Brach. The shuttle's staff are moving to check all seatbelts for landing, but they avoid him, just as they did on the main space vessel.

Unfortunately the Event Horizon is too large to dock at Centra One; for such an important location, Moon has always wondered why they weren’t better equipped. Instead, passengers are shuttled down to the surface.

Moon sighs down at the files before him, still unwilling to open them. If not for the threat of action from the Sovereign Court, he wouldn’t be here at all. And yet, here he is, Planet Kelaris, in the Sparkfly Star System of the Milky Way, closest to Earth’s Solar System.

A place he’d rather have never returned to.

He’s waited until the very last minute to even review the documents Brach had sent him; and what he finds is… both unpleasant, and not surprising.

The former specialist was a Casilk, after all.

It appears he had done some questionable maneuvers to even get a human off-planet. He was a bit surprised; the Solair family was reputable, known to be good, law-abiding citizens, if not a little eccentric. He had never met Sun Solair personally, but it wasn’t common for their kind, much less a member of the Solair family, to enter such a humble field; most of them were performers, merchants, or socialites of some kind.

But it’s no matter; While he does find the other scientist’s actions disgraceful morally, it isn’t of any true concern to Moon. He is only here to assist until the human has adapted to life here and can live without causing trouble for others.

If the obsessive scientist’s notes are to be believed, the Sovereign Court is hopeful that this human can be a successful transplant; if that is proven to not be the case, the alternative… is grim.

Still, they had reassured Moon that the last specialist had chosen this human based on their docile-seeming nature, and described them as ‘cooperative’. It is the best from a bad situation, he supposes. They are also eager for a second opinion before this human can be allowed to roam freely.

He scrolls to a photo of the human; a soft-looking thing with a nervous smile. A yellow finger partially blocks the lens.

He was warned by Dr. Brach that the human has received some trauma; they had previously believed they would be returning to Earth. Dr. Solair had lied to them, and they weren’t even aware they had had a translator installed. Apparently, it had been a substantial blow to their psyche.

Great.

Moon had immediately contacted the best psychologist he could think of in the area; an acquaintance he thought highly of and was sure could help. When he’d reached out to the bear, Freddy had somehow already been aware of the situation, but he assured Moon he could be there in a few cycles once he wrapped up his current affairs. Moon was then given permission from the department to initiate the temporary personnel transfer.

The last thing Moon needs to deal with is a psychologically disturbed human. He’s never been good with that sort of thing.

But most of all… Moon is concerned for himself. He had barely had any time to mentally prepare for this, and the feeling of impending doom sits over him.

A psychologically disturbed human…

He knows there’s a chance the experience may disturb him in a lasting way, as well.

His last experience, while brief, had given him nightmares for years.

.

.

.

Stepping down the stairs from the shuttle, he observes the pink skies and vibrant cityscape. He tries not to scowl. The people this place attracts were just as vibrant and energized as the bright foliage pushing through every crack of concrete.

Conversely, the people here found him…intimidating. His dark figure was much better suited to the Blackrock System in the Gloaming Galaxy, its red sun creating a perpetual twilight.

“Dr. Nocturne?” A voice asks. He glances down, and is met with a pair of ocular peduncles on a wedge-shaped head; A Malacoss.

I can assume this is one Dr. Brach.

Dr. Brach was the supervisor here, and normally he would be above Moon in authority; but with this being a special situation, Moon had requested to be given allowance to make decisions autonomously regarding the human; it had been granted, so long as Moon was able to come immediately. Moon did not work under anyone at his lab in Blackrock, and he was not going to here.

“Yes,” Moon says.

“Right this way.”

Moon follows him to the awaiting vehicle, trunk already opened for his luggage. He waives off the offer of the shorter scientists to load his bag for him, putting it in himself before climbing into the back seat. The Malacoss follows, seating himself next to Moon. He observes the city pass as they begin to move, smoothly lifting from the ground and floating between buildings.

“You will be staying in the guest quarters in the department’s species habitat wing. All of Dr. Solair’s supplies are available for your use,” he begins, receiving a nod in return. Moon's eyes remain fixed out the window.

“Regarding the human…” Yura starts, and finally he has Moon’s attention. “They refused to eat, yesterday and today, both. I know I noted it, but they have taken the news very hard. Dr. Solair’s notes speak of a soft, polite, cooperative human, but I have received nothing but vitriol and spite with every interaction; I worry our last specialist has taken all of their good faith with him,” he admits. Moon hears the nerves in his voice, and he knows what he’s getting at; he fears a bad outcome— one that might happen to you if you continued to be uncooperative, and would thus reflect badly on him.

Moon's eyes shift back out the window, his elbow resting on the sill and his chin in his palm. “She was betrayed,” he says simply. “Dr. Solair’s notes are painfully obvious; he tried to behave as a friend instead of a scientist, and she learned the hard way which one meant more to him.”

Brach’s eyes widen.

“Are you acquainted with Dr. Solair, by chance?” He asks.

“No. But his notes are…” he tries to not visibly cringe. “...his personality shines through,” he amends.

“Ah,” Yura nods.

They arrive at the building, and are greeted by two of the custodial staff members - hive members, Moon realizes - there to help unload his luggage.

Scavenging opportunists, Moon scoffs.

Moon intervenes as Dr. Brach attempts to lead him to his quarters. “I will see the human first,” Moon says. “Please take my bags to my quarters,” he tells the hive staff.

“Are you sure? I’m sure the human can wait until the morning,” Dr. Brach asks.

“If they aren’t eating, it’s a problem for now,” Moon states. Best to get greetings out of the way.

Brach escorts Moon through the halls, attempting to give a short tour on the way. It wasn't needed; the place had hardly changed at all.

In short order, they arrive at your door.

___

You had been asleep, something you do a lot of lately. It’s been two… cycles, since you’d last seen Sun. You feel dehydrated, and weighed down by a fatigue that won’t leave you. The crab had come and gone, leaving food and being generally annoying. You mainly slept through it.

You couldn’t cry anymore; you were sure there were no tears left in you, and yet, when sleep wouldn’t take you, the ache of grief still ran its agonizing course through your body. You could feel the hole in your chest, lined with sharp, ragged edges that were as raw as an exposed nerve; but when you felt around, your hand only met your skin. You were still whole, even though it felt like you had surely been cut through.

While you had expected nightmares, the dreams made it somehow worse; often, you would ‘wake up’ in your bed at home, relieved to tears at knowing this had all been just a bad dream; And then, you’d wake up for real.

Perhaps just as bad, if not worse, was the rage. The helpless, all-consuming fire that had you hating Sun and everything here, but most of all, hating yourself. For ever having been kind to him, for humoring him, for attempting to understand him. For letting him find you at all likeable; for cooperating.

I should have demanded… I should have… I could have fought. Made his life hell, made him…

Made him regret ever taking you.

You had thought about all of the nice things you had forced yourself to say to him. Out of survival, or guilt, or the need to people-please.

You hated yourself for being this way. You hated that you might have done this to yourself.

You yell and you scream; and then… you weep.

.

.

.

Eventually, it subsides to numbness; you may have drifted off for a time. But at some point, you find yourself sitting up, red eyes under swollen lids drifting listlessly around the space. The stone Sun had given you was wedged between your mattress and the bed frame. Looking at it, at your tiny Earth, your mind begins to wander.

Was it possible to somehow escape? Get on a ship —you’d seen them flying overhead on your outing—and make your way back to Earth? Maybe you could—

Three raps.

Your eyes snap to the door, the sound in the silent space sharp in your ears.

It couldn't be him, you thought. There’s no way. Dr. Brach said—

Three raps, louder this time.

You feel your heart begin to race, the blood draining from your head.

“G-go away,” you say, the quietness of your voice carrying in the space regardless. There is silence on the other side of the door for a moment. You pull your blankets up around your head.

“Are you decent?” a voice says, finally.

…

…that isn’t Sun.

“...Please go away,” you reiterate tiredly. Perhaps… this was the new specialist?

“My apologies. I’m coming in,” the voice says, and the door opens with a hiss.

The person before you isn’t Sun; but even with your limited exposure here, and through your swollen eyes, you are certain he’s the same species.

Massively tall, and broader than Sun, he stands as a dark silhouette in your doorway. An ominous sign, if you were one to be superstitious.

He has a heart-shaped face much like a barn owl’s; but instead of yellow, he’s primarily a dark gray-blue—except for nearly half his face, which is a few shades lighter than the rest of him. He has the same shaped mouth as Sun did, like a wide M, and the same hooked, downward-pointing nose.

The feathers on his head and down his neck are even darker than his scales, and instead of the fan of ray-like frills Sun sported, the short feathers on this person’s head were swept back, and the ones on the back of his head were longer—long enough to cascade down to his upper back. He had them laying over one of his broad shoulders.

His eyes were perhaps the most notable; unlike Sun’s pale eyes, this person’s sclera is black, and his irises a deep red. The look is overall… quite spooky. You might be nervous, if you had the mental facilities to care.

“...what if I had been naked?” you sigh. You have no idea where the words come from, and you regret them almost immediately when you see the man’s mouth quirk up on one side.

“Then one of us would be embarrassed.”

“I’m sure you would recover somehow.”

And this time he does laugh, a quiet chuckle that does nothing but make you more upset. You don’t see Dr. Brach staring open-mouthed from the doorway.

“I am Dr. Nocturne,” he says finally. He doesn’t give his first name. “I am the temporary specialist; I will be clear with my purpose here,” he begins. “I have been asked to come and assess and assist in your… transplant, assuming you are cleared to do so. Our goal is citizenship,” he tells you.

You wince, sinking deeper in your blankets.

“I will assess your overall constitution and ensure you are prepared for life here. You have been told you are staying; but you will not be simply thrown to the wolves. It is a part of this department’s job to support you, and place you somewhere where you have the best chance at thriving. But we also need to know that you are well and safe to live in society,” he finishes.

You can’t even bring yourself to look at him anymore. You do hear him, yes; but it’s all too much. You can’t even... think about that. You feel immediately overwhelmed.

 

“Do you have any questions?” He continues.

“No. I’m sorry, but I think I’d just like to go back to sleep now,” you say quietly. There’s a long silence, and you hope he will just do as you ask. You did so nicely, after all.

“...I would like to see you eat something first. And then I will leave.” he says finally. Your eyes shift over to the floor near the door, where the crab has been leaving your nutrient bars. Maybe 5 of them are stacked there.

“I don’t feel hungry,” You say.

“But you surely are. Eat, and I will leave you,” he reiterates, and then, “...please.”

You glance back up at him, then. His face is impassive. You wonder if he also has Sun’s strange genetic compulsion to ‘take care’ of you.

You hope not.

Sun was always taking notes— surely it was documented somewhere? It seems like… it would be a bad idea to bring in another scientist of the same species.

You sigh. At the end of it, you can't bring yourself to care that much.

Whatever.

“Bring me one of those,” You tentatively almost-ask; The room is cold, and you aren’t feeling like getting up. The doctor’s eyes move over to the bars, and you wonder if he’s going to say no; but eventually, he bends down and plucks one up, heading over to you.

He holds out the bar silently and you dig an arm out just enough to snatch it from him, after which he steps back. You appreciate the space; Sun would hover, and he also didn’t seem to be aware of his size. He was always…looming.

You cringe as the first bite hits your tongue. You are so tired of this.

“Is this room too cold for you?” the doctor asks suddenly. You raise your eyebrows at him, and then you pull the blankets back around you. Red eyes scan over you, and you shiver.

“Not if I stay under here,” you tell him, tugging the blankets tighter.

“That doesn’t seem ideal. I will have the temperature changed for you.”

You didn’t know that was an option. You nod.

Reaching about two-thirds of the way through your bar, you finally call it. “I don’t think I can eat any more of this.”

“Those shouldn’t be too filling for one meal,” he comments.

“I haven’t had much of an appetite; I’m afraid I’ll be sick if I try and force it down.”

“Are you not feeling well?” He asks. You sigh and peer up at him then. You’re not sure what expression your face is making, but he seems to backpedal. “...right. I’ll take this then, unless you’d like to save it for later.” A long taloned finger is pointing at your leftovers.

“No thanks,” you hand it over - only to see him carefully fold it up and place it in his coat pocket. Your eyes narrow at that.

Huh.

You wait for him to move away, but he does not. His eyes are scanning over you again. You wish you could disappear.

“Human…”

“Casilk,” you say back tiredly. He pauses.

After a moment, he uses your name.

“Dr. Nocturne,” you return this time. You think you hear him hum a small sound at that, and it sounds approving.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Got it,” you say. And you turn away from him, settling back down as you pull the blankets around you.

___

Moon’s POV

You’re smaller, much smaller than he had anticipated. Which was ridiculous if he was honest; he knew exactly how big and small humans could get. He knew of the average sizes and had the measurements. He had only seen a human in person once, many years ago… he had forgotten— or tried to forget— but he's certain you're smaller even than that one. Easy to forget the scale when you’ve largely studied through pictures and video.

You were watching him from inside a cocoon of sorts you had made in your bed. A few of your tiny fingers could be seen, clutching the blanket around you. His eyes move from your hands to your face. You were observing him, too. He wonders if you find him frightening.

No. It doesn’t matter.

“...what if I had been naked?” You ask. Moon blinks. Your voice, airy from disuse, is nonetheless pleasant on his auriculars. But was it a serious question? He wonders. Or were you being intentionally contrary?

“Then one of us would be embarrassed,” Moon tosses back.

“I’m sure you would recover somehow.”

He can’t stop the surprised chuckle, not expecting banter. You were being a little shit on purpose. He wonders where this part of you was in Sun’s notes. Seeing your scowl, he attempts to shake away his amusement.

Deciding to move on to business, Moon gives his introduction, explaining his purpose here. Midway through though, you appear to shut down. He leaves an opening for you to reply, but you’re no longer in the present with him; he wonders where you have gone.

“....think I’d just like to go back to sleep now,” you say. The blanket has fallen around your shoulders, and he absorbs the new view. You are disheveled, with a messy bed-head and a wrinkled, canvas tunic no doubt given to you by the department. Moon registers the endearing aspect of it, and dismisses it.

He requests that you eat something first; better to be safe. You push back gently, but he insists— even adding a 'please' at the end for your benefit. Your eyes moved to the stack of nutrient bars on the floor, and you requested he bring one over.

Moon considers it for a moment; it might be best if you move your body a bit, even if it's only to retrieve the food.

But then again, he had been the one to request that you eat. He can compromise.

He picks up a bar and brings it to your bedside. Holding it out to you, he observes as one of your arms snakes out from your nest. His eyes latch onto it, and immediately he sees goosebumps rise— a wholly mammalian trait, but one he knows from his studies.

Ah.

He watches you take your first few bites; eventually, he asks if it’s too cold in the habitat you’re staying in. You wrap the blankets back over yourself in response, and he frowns.

“Not if I stay under here,” you reply.

Absolutely not.

“That doesn’t seem ideal. I will have the temperature changed for you,” he tells you. Your eyebrows furrow, and Moon wonders why the previous specialist wouldn’t have noticed you were uncomfortable. He glances down near your feet, watching you flex your toes mindlessly from inside the cocoon. Perhaps he was endeared by your appearance. He resists the scowl that tugs on his features.

“I don’t think I can eat any more of this,” you state, and he snaps his gaze back to your face. But you weren’t looking at him.

“Those shouldn’t be too filling for one meal,” he reasons.

“I haven’t had much of an appetite; I’m afraid I’ll be sick if I try and force it down.”

“Are you not feeling well?”

You turn your face up to him, then. He hears you exhale a sigh. And in that moment, he sees the exhaustion on your face; the dark circles under your eyes, puffiness around the lids, the red of your sclera. Your lips are chapped from dehydration, and your nose is darkened and irritated. There’s a blanket mark on your cheek.

You are the picture of grief; and he can feel it coming off of you in waves.

‘Not feeling well’? What kind of stupid question is that?

“...right. I’ll take that then, unless you’d like to save it for later,” he tells you, indicating to the rest of your nutrient bar. Your eyes linger on his finger for a moment, on the long talons he keeps blunted, before moving to his eyes.

“No thanks,” you reply, and your hand snakes out once more to hand him the wrapper. He glances down at it.

Is this all they feed her? He wonders. It was… depressing. Everything here was depressing. He’s sure he can convince someone higher up that the human will surely die if she doesn’t eat delicious food. He folds the wrapper up and places it in his pocket.

“Human…” he begins, but before he can continue—

“Casilk,” you say.

His eyes widen. Sharp. He uses your name instead, this time.

“Dr. Nocturne,” you reply, with the smallest nod of approval, as if to say, now we are communicating like equals.

A lesser person might have been offended by your…correction. But Moon can’t help but feel pleased. You identified him, and had taken note of his name, even though he had only told you once.

He will admit, he was expecting something different after reading your file – a shrinking violet, a soft-shelled being with no voice of your own. But seeing you now, even wrapped in blankets like a strange bug… you still have dignity; Identity. Even as he witnesses you endure what may be the worst grief you will ever feel.

He is… relieved.

“...I’ll be back tomorrow,” he tells you.

“Got it,” you reply dismissively. You settle back into your nest of blankets, turning away from him and hiding yourself from view. He leaves quietly.

---

Here is some rough artwork I did while trying to visualize my characters, figured I'd share! I should have drafted them before I published this story; I really like the little feathers on their cheekbones, so there's no going back now. I had a birds as a kid (a lotta birds, so many birds) and one of my favorite features were these little feathers on their cheeks called auriculars that help them channel sound and protect their ear holes from debris and wind 😄 I don't think the guys have ear holes in their cheeks, but... same vibes, same cute. I also wanted to make Moon look older than Sun, and I think I was able to achieve that.

Notes:

Moon: This is some real goddamn shit they’ve forced me to–
MC: *peeks* 𓁹_𓁹
Moon: ,,๏ ⋏ ๏,,
MC: *gives snark*
Moon: pspspsps *offers snack*
MC: *uses his name*
Moon: ⸝⸝⸝O⋏O⸝⸝⸝

The second Casilk… it reminds me of that reddit post, “how many owls would you have to see in a day before you become suspicious?” MC’s number is two lol. Lemme know yours in the comments XD

How are we feeling about Moon? I know a few of you speculated that he might make things worse for our protagonist; so far so good, though. There were some hints in this chapter, but Moon has his own reputation that we aren’t aware of; for better or worse, our MC is meeting Moon in a vacuum, so she’s going to have to make her own assessment from scratch. Which… just maybe, is how we should learn about anyone :)

Sparkfly Solar System - A reference to Sparkfly Fenn, one of my favorite areas for grinding XP in Guild Wars 2

If you thought it was weird that Moon used “shrinking violet” as an idiom, just remember his thoughts are being translated by a human narrator lol there’s probably an analog to that idiom in his language, just trust me on this guys, ssshhhh shhh shhh

The Gloaming Galaxy - a reference from the game Outer Wilds! I do recommend trying it if you haven’t. The game moved me to tears, realizing that I might live and die without ever creating anything that would move another person the way that experience moved me. As an artist, it’s a painful realization.

Chapter 5: The Battles We Choose

Summary:

You learn about Moon. He learns about you, too.

Notes:

After posting the artwork last time, it occurred to me that with Sun and Moon being total strangers, combined with how different they look from the in-game designs, we’ve actually strayed further from god’s light the source material than I’d realized, lol. In some moments, it feels like an original story in FNAF cosplay. Once we meet some of the Glamrocks I think it’ll help reign us in a bit, though! Also, I’m working on an animatic that I’ll share hopefully next week! ( ꈍ◡ꈍ) I see others on IG posting this trend with their OCs, so I decided to try my hand at it. Wonder if anyone else here has seen it?

“How did you do it?”

Moon glances at Brach, standing at the entrance to the lab. He’s carefully cutting the bitten end off of the nutrient bar you had let him take.

“What do you mean?” Moon prepares a few slides as he goes, lifting the cover off a microscope.

“The human. They were so… cooperative with you. Didn’t even threaten to throw rocks at you.”

“Rocks?” Moon raises his brows, wondering what Dr. Brach could have done to deserve that. He cuts pieces from the wrapper and sets them aside.

“Well, I’m not sure what it was. But she threatened to throw it. I was only trying to change her bandage,” he says.

“You didn’t call for security?” Moon adds a few drops of methylene blue to the slides.

“Well… no. It would have felt strange to call them, she’s… very small,” he admits. He picks up his tablet, scrolling to the notes he’d taken that day. “And then she said, ‘If you don’t approach me, I will not throw this rock. Please choose,’ and I decided I was better off negotiating.”

Moon lifts his head from the microscope at that, a grin breaking out over his features. “You’re kidding,” he laughs.

“No. Wouldn’t even let me close,” he grumbled. “And her bandage still needs to be changed.”

“It sounds like she got you to cooperate with her instead,” Moon leans back down, adjusting the scope.

“I’m not disagreeing,” Brach huffs. “But it feels a little unfair. Especially considering your–” Brach winces, but he’s come too far. “Appearance,” He finished. “I-in that you are the same species as Dr. Solair, that is,” He tacks on.

Moon takes it in stride. He knows he can come across as a bit…frightening, to the species in the brighter solar systems. Not to mention the Nocturne family’s reputation…

Whether that’s what Brach meant or not, he wasn’t sensitive to it.

“And? What of the other doctor?” He smooths. Yura deflates.

“Reassigned. An isolated project on a dwarf planet a few systems over,” he grumbles. “If it were up to me, he would have been separated.”

“And how would you say his… relationship… with the subject was?”

“Well in my notes–”

“I’m asking your opinion, as a person,” he clarifies. He’d skimmed all the notes, and knowing Sun Solair was a Casilk allowed him to extrapolate plenty. But he wanted to hear it.

“The doctor was… protective,” he began. “He wouldn’t let anyone else tend to the human. Didn’t even want anyone else to meet her. He was here even on his days off, and gave her 100% of her meals.”

“Why do you suppose that was?”

“Well, we know now. At the time though, I just thought he was enthusiastic about finally having a subject of his focus,” Brach admitted. “Now of course, it was probably mainly to conceal the fact he’d installed the translator… I know he had hoped to keep that concealed until after the ruling was made,” he said, and then tilted his head in thought. “Or, perhaps because of…their strange bond,” Brach finished.

“His genetic predisposition,” Moon corrects. “It’s only one-way. Humans have no such analog in their evolutionary history.”

In truth, Moon was grappling with it, too. It had already started for him - and it had begun much faster than he had anticipated. Perhaps some pheromone of yours had filled the stale air of that room you were sequestered in, or perhaps your presence was just that strong; but the truth was, until the moment he heard your voice, he had been dreading the entire interaction, willing himself to just get introductions over with; and yet now, he felt focused, curious. A bit… eager, even.

Night and day, compared to his first interaction with a human, thank the gods.

Perhaps it feels better when they can talk back.

“Yes, r-right,” Dr. Brach says, bringing Moon back to the present. “Still, as far as my personal opinion, I’m not entirely certain how she felt about it all; but he was… overly focused on her. Dr. Solair has always been… well, he is a Solair. He has a large, loud personality,” and he cringes somewhat. “Coupled with his… predisposition… I suspect he may have made her uncomfortable. But she didn’t, or couldn’t, voice it,” he said.

“And, is the human aware of Casilk’s… affinity for them?”

Brach pauses then.

“I hadn’t considered it,” he admits finally. “He would have been a fool to tell the human; I want to believe that he didn’t. Perhaps Dr. Solair was attempting to do his own research on himself—and his reactions to the human—in tandem with studying the human herself. But informing the subject of his own affinity for her would have been… inappropriate. Likely overwhelming for the subject, and compromising, from a research perspective,” not to mention extremely embarrassing, Brach tacks on in his head.

Moon merely utters a non-commital sound, before going silent.

There was a long lingering quiet where Moon focuses on the slides. Brach weighs his options as he considers what exactly he wants to ask Dr. Nocturne.

...

“Do you… also feel this… predisposition?” He asks.

“Dr. Brach,” Moon starts.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to imply that you are–”

“Has the human been vaccinated for Redcough?” Moon stands now, his brow furrowed.

“A-ah, let me see,” he stammers, pulling up her charts. “She received her first set; usually the Redcough vaccine is given in the second set, upon finishing the quarantine period, so as to not overwhelm…” Brach trails off.

“But Doctor Solair did not have her finished her quarantine period,” Moon says.

“Indeed. Was there something in her saliva?”

“No, no,” Moon assures him. “It would be too soon to see, in any case. But I suggest we give her the second set of vaccines sooner rather than later; Humans are particularly susceptible to fungal diseases, there is a common one on her planet that can cause lasting damage. Kelaris and its nature are rich with fungal spores, to the extent that the air is even colored by it; for many humans, this planet would be considered inhospitable, at least for a long-term settlement,” he says.

Dr. Brach blinks. “So Dr. Sun is more incompetent than even I believed.”

“Dr. Solair studied interspecies relations. I studied microbiology and diseases.” We are not the same. Moon sighs before continuing. “Still, it isn’t completely his fault; a normal integration of any other species would include a team of highly involved experts specializing in different things. The fact is, restricted species just don’t have the support.”

“And yet he brought a human here all the same,” Dr. Brach scoffs. “This is still his fault.” Moon hums but does not comment.

“As long as she stays indoors, she should be alright; I will continue to monitor her health. But I might suggest sending her off-planet when it comes time to integrate, even with the vaccination.”

“Do you have any suggestions?”

Moon pauses. For a moment, his mind’s eye sees the honey-colored skies of twilight within the Gloaming Galaxy. He banishes the thought almost immediately.

“I will do some research,” he says simply.

.

.

.

Later, alone, Moon would take some more time with Dr. Solairs notes than he had previously, getting into the doctors day-to-day rather than just the highlights Dr. Brach had sent him. Dr. Brach had implied that Dr. Solair had soured your good will, but he didn't feel that was quite right; rather, you weren't the feral thing Brach had described. Had you really just gone along with Dr. Solair’s whims, as Brach seemed to believe, previous to this?

In short order, he finds what he's looking for. The doctor had expressed in several entries—actually, more often than not—his frustration, that despite your compliance, you would staunchly refuse any of his efforts to encourage interest in life here. All efforts to engage you in conversations surrounding a possible future here were shut down or politely dismissed.

He became so frustrated, in fact, that Dr. Solair would go off on rambling tangents even in his personal notes.

You had been staging a quiet rebellion, under the guise of compliance. And it hadn’t even been the only time—

Moon’s eyes scan the ramblings; You derailed him, distracted him, misread him whenever possible.

“…probably is no ‘big bird god’, and I’m even starting to suspect that the expression ‘built like a brittle star’ isn’t even a real compliment either–”

Moon snorts. You had absolutely tormented the good doctor, whether you knew it or not. The ‘itch’ that Dr. Solair mentions in his notes— you had done everything in your power to avoid scratching it, inadvertently or otherwise.

No; whatever image Solair had been trying to sell to the Court about who you were, Moon was beginning to suspect it wasn't quite right.

---

Three raps. Your eyes open.

You sit up with a groan, pushing yourself up on your hands. The blankets fall around your waist as you cross your legs and sit back against the wall. The room had been warmer since yesterday, and you felt comfortable in the long tunic you had been given.

There is another knock, and you sigh.

“What.”

“Breakfast,” Dr. Nocturne’s voice says. The door opens with a hiss.

“Oh goody—” you start, but then the smell hits you. Your eyes shoot to the doctor. Today he wears a lab coat; he wasn’t yesterday.

“Real food today,” he says.

And he’s holding a tray in his hands. From where you are, you can see a metal bowl and several small plates around it. You narrow your eyes at the doctor.

“...what are you playing at?” you ask. He blinks at you.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” He says.

“Sun said I couldn’t have ‘real food’,” you state.

“Dr. Solair is no longer your specialist,” he replies. He places the food on the table. “Please, come sit,” he requests.

Red eyes observe you in turn, and you can’t read anything in his expression. You knew better than to believe he had suddenly brought you a meal from the goodness of his heart.

…

Could he have put something in it? You…weren’t sure; the doctor before you is probably normal-looking to other aliens—at least, is what you assumed. But his appearance—red eyes on black sclera, with sharp, shadowy features—makes you somewhat nervous.

He had taken your wrapper yesterday, and not to throw it away, either, you suspected; then today, this?

“It won’t hurt you,” he prompts. “I made sure it was safe for your kind.”

“...I’m not hungry right now,” you tell him. As good as it smells, you want to believe you’ve learned your lesson about trusting Casilks.

“No?”

“No, I… think I’ll just have one of the bars when I get hungry later,” you tell him; loathe as you are to eat another. He blinks, looking back at the food, and seems to be lost in thought for a long moment; then, he’s lifting the tray again and turning back to you; he pulls a chair up to your bedside.

Tensing at the proximity, you try not to scowl; apparently, he wasn’t going to let it go. But he’s not looking at you, moving slowly as if to not startle a frightened animal. He sits, placing the tray on his lap. His gaze shifts to you then, eyes narrowed; but not in anger, you think. More in thought.

“You don’t have to eat it, if you don’t want to,” he says, his head tilting slightly as he considers you.

But?

“I will make you a deal, though. Will you hear me out?”

You… don’t think you have much of a choice here. You nod.

“While I am your handler, you will never have to worry about being deceived; if you don’t understand something, I will explain it to you. If something new is happening, I will give you notice. I will never invade your privacy; And, I will never try to put any medications in your food without your awareness.” You cringe at that, looking away. He knew what you’d been thinking.

“I know you have no reason to trust me, a stranger and another Casilk at that. Truth be told… I also find these circumstances unpleasant,” he says. Your eyes move back to him in surprise, and he’s looking away from you, frowning; his curved nose is wrinkled as if he’s smelled something bad.

What did that mean?

You try to imagine it; You’re called in to take the place of a scientist banned from his field, and you are tasked with managing the (probably traumatized) human he'd kidnapped. You could laugh; that sounds like a shit end of the stick for sure.

As a human specialist, you had assumed he’d… be more interested to meet you. That this was an opportunity he wanted to take; you hadn’t considered that that wasn’t the case. Still…

“In exchange…for what?” You ask carefully. His gaze moves back to you. He tilts his head in confusion. “You said it was a deal,” you elaborate.

“Oh. I apologize, not a deal. It’s…a promise, Miss; these are non-negotiable things, the basic decency any scientist should be treating their ward with. I don't want your time here to be mysterious and confusing for you. I want everyone to be on the same page, including you. And if you’re ever unsure, I want you to feel comfortable asking questions.”

Your eyes move down to your lap as you consider him. You’ve…relaxed somewhat.

Am I foolish for wanting to believe him?

Or maybe... doomed to repeat your mistakes, over and over. You have very little faith in yourself, in your own instincts, at this point. But Dr. Nocturne continues, and you listen.

“My purpose here is to guide you. Only the things I told you yesterday, and nothing more. Once you are settled, somewhere out there where you can live and thrive, you never have to see me again. Unless you need help,” he adds.

You meet his lidded gaze with your own incredulous look. You can’t see any deceit; even while you now actively look for it. Dark, slitted pupils in red irises observe you calmly in return. Your gaze lowers to the tray in his lap, and he shifts it toward you minutely.

“...fine,” you start. “Its not like any of my struggle is worth a damn at this point anyway, even if something was in the food,” you say bitterly. You realize how pathetic you must sound, but if he thinks some way about it, he doesn’t respond. Instead, as you reach for the tray, he moves it for you, folding the legs out from under it. Deep gray taloned fingers place the tray over your lap.

You expect him to stand after that, to leave you; you hope he will, anyway. He does not, and you sigh, turning your eyes to the food.

You can see some pale pink strips—they look like roots—and an orange mash resembling sweet potato; in the center is a bowl with a lid. You uncover it, and steam wafts out. It’s pink, because of course it is. Pink and creamy, and you see what looks like the savory fruit Sun had given you floating in the broth, with other chopped items.

If you’d been home, you’d have taken a picture.

Instead—

You glance up at the doctor. He had acknowledged that he is a Casilk like Sun, but in truth, you couldn’t mistake him for Sun if you tried. Like night and day, you think. Even their last names seem to lend to that thought process.

Perhaps more like, Easter vs. Halloween, actually, you reconsider, turning back to the food. Dr. Nocturne wouldn’t be out of place as a Halloween prop in someone’s front yard, hanging out with the twelve-foot Home Depot skeleton.

His looming presence sits across from you, face impassive. The chair is a bit too low for him, not built for someone of his height but he sits gracefully as if comfortable.

You catch his red eyes watching you, and he flicks them down to the food instead. You lift your spoon and dig in without prompting.

“So,” Moon starts.

Here we fucking go, you scowl. Probably too much to hope that he would let you eat in peace.

“You threatened Dr. Brach?” He asks. You glance up at his face, but his expression is hard to read; a little intimidating, despite his assurances. Still, you feign innocence.

“I would never,” you deadpan.

“That’s not what he says.”

“We have an understanding, is all.”

“He thinks you’re being difficult.”

“I’m a delight,” you insist, sampling the food. The roots are sweet, and they remind you of pickled radish. Perhaps a palette cleanser? You don’t see the doctor’s eyes crease in amusement.

“I’m certain you are,” he says, and you frown at the mirth in his voice. “But there will be days where he will need to bring your meals and change your bandage. Perhaps we can organize some other arrangement that doesn’t involve throwing things at him?”

“It was his choice to reject the gift I was going to give him— at high speed, to his face.”

“And just what was this gift?” Dr. Nocturne asks.

You fall silent at that, moving a large cut of fruit into your mouth without looking at the doctor.

Blinking, his gaze moves over your bed, as if he could spot the item somewhere around you. He wasn’t actually that far off.

“Once you’re done eating, go get cleaned up. Then I’ll change your bandage—Dr. Brach said it’s overdue, and you do not want to get an infection there—and then, I was thinking we could go for a walk.”

Your spoon scrapes the bottom of the bowl, and you sigh.

“What for?” you ask.

“For? Your health, and enjoyment. It would do you some good I think,” he says.

“I don’t feel like it.”

“...why don’t we just start with the shower, then?” he suggests.

There’s a long pause, where you consider rejecting him. And yet… the idea of staying in bed doesn’t appeal to you, either. You begin to lift the tray, and he takes it from you without a word, standing and pulling the chair back so you can get up. You swing your legs over the edge and stand, moving toward the bathroom. Before you enter, you glance at the bed, guessing at his intent. “While you’re checking under my bed, be careful you don’t run into the boogyman.”

You clock the confusion on his face as he scans your bed with his gaze almost suspiciously, and then he turns back to you.

“...I will return to fetch you after a while.” he says, watching you head into the bathroom.

---

Once the door shuts, Dr. Nocturne moves to take the tray away; he will check the spoon you used today under the micros-

The spoon is gone.

Moon is frozen for a moment as he fails to compute what he’s seeing. He checks the floor; nothing. The edge of his mouth twitches up in irritation and chagrin.

Oh, you little—

The shower turns on, and he glares at the bathroom door. His eyes move back to your bedding; had you hidden it in your bedding, with said rock?

He pauses at the bedside, noting the blankets that still held the shape of your small form as they had fallen off of you. You hadn't remained bundled in them while you ate, so Moon can conclude that you were no longer too cold.

Good.

He lays a hand on them for a moment.

“Subject exhibits difficulty initiating and maintaining sleep. Episodes of physical frustration and sorrow have been observed…”

Moon removes his hand.

In his opinion, it’s irresponsible to leave a subject alone to the devices of one researcher; The scientists are given parameters and standards they are told to follow in subject treatment, of course, but there are no real punishments if it's found that those standards aren’t met. After all, sapient subjects have very few real rights—barring the most basic protections—until they are granted citizenship, or at least residency; That won’t happen for you until you are cleared through the DIC.

He could tell himself something irresponsible like, “I’m different, I don’t mean any harm, what I’m doing is for her benefit,” but he imagines that Dr. Solair also probably had many ways he justified his actions. Monitoring your sleep being only one example.

He does not want to be like Dr. Solair. He had meant what he said to you, about protecting your privacy.

Instead of touching your bedding, he moves to the outlet above the bed. He uses his talons to unscrew it, and sure enough, a small lense stares back at him. He pulls the camera from inside the wall and places it in his pocket, replacing the cover.

Once that’s done, he glances back down to the bed.

…Moon was ashamed; if it were any other subject, he could go through their bedding without a thought. He would never have made such a promise about privacy to any other subject. But while his own thoughts were tinged with… other feelings, he felt uncomfortable proceeding alone.

I’m not some creep.

No—he needed a team here, more eyes on this; on him. Freddy would be here in a few cycles, and Dr. Brach… well, perhaps you would need to find a way to make peace with him. He was not so proud that he believed he could be everything you needed, as the resident ‘human specialist’. Rather, science would tell him that having a compromised view of a subject will cause him to see you less clearly.

And Dr. Solair… had had many blind spots. He would not make the same mistakes.

---

In due time, you emerge from the bathroom. Moon has since left, returning your dishes—sans spoon—to the cafeteria, and returned by the time you are done. You’re in fresh clothing, and Moon recognizes the slacks as standard-issue in their department; but your sweater is clearly your own. There is some lettering on it; English, he can assume—though the word does not translate to anything he recognizes. Around the word there are what appear to be potted flowers, with a few other objects he doesn’t recognize.

You are towel-drying your hair, before letting it sit around your shoulders. He wants to ask about the sweater, but is afraid it will only upset you. He is also afraid to ask if you’re feeling better, as that will also likely turn your mood.

Instead, he gestures to a chair. “Have a seat, then,” he says simply.

“Let's get it over with,” you sigh.

You sit, and Moon moves to stand behind you. He prepares what he needs on the table, and you pull your wet hair to one side, beginning to run a brush through it. The motion is a little distracting, but Moon focuses on his objective.

He removes the bandage first, carefully peeling it back and observing underneath; The device appears to be healing well enough in your neck, though the skin around it is still raised and reddened.

I’m glad, he sighs. At the very least, it appears to have been properly installed.

He is just beginning to disinfect the area when suddenly, your hand appears in his vision, and he grabs it in his panic. His thumb presses into your small palm.

He had been told of the (frankly, justified) episode you had when you had been told the truth, how you appeared to be attempting to pull the bandage off yourself to get to the translator.

“What are you doing?” He asks, voice tight.

Your hand has tensed, but to your credit, you answer calmly. “I’m not trying to pull it out. I just want to touch it,” You say.

He isn’t sure if he should let you, and doesn’t know if it would be within your character to lie about this.

“...just, with my fingertips?” you add. He sighs. Your tone is imploring, and he can’t tell you no. It is a part of you now, after all.

“...okay. Extend your fingers,” he instructs you. Keeping his thumb in your palm, he moves his other fingers down around your wrist and pulls your hand a bit closer. You extend two fingers.

He wipes your fingers with the disinfectant before moving your hand to let you touch it.

He watches you move your fingers across your inflamed skin; you press the device gently from one edge, and a shudder moves through you as your fingers seem to recoil for a moment. Then you reach out again, running them along the disc-shaped surface. He can’t see your face, but he sees you pull up your other sleeve to press against your eyes. He can feel your hand shaking in his, and can hear your breath quicken as you try to stem your tears. Moon realizes that until that moment, you likely hadn’t truly been able to confirm the translator’s existence, and the reality was now setting in.

Deplorable.

Someone had done this to you without your awareness, after all; a frightening idea for any species, but particularly for one from a place so different then here.

You gently tug your hand away, and Moon lets go. You wrap your arm around your stomach, while the other sleeve is still held to your eyes a while longer, silently catching the tears as they emerge. Moon’s chest tightens at the sight, but he says nothing.

“Shouldn’t it hurt more…?” You ask eventually.

“Does it hurt at all?”

“It’s sore, sometimes.”

“I see. No, you would have been numbed for the insertion. And the device itself is equipped with a slow-releasing numbing agent that is slowly dissolving off its surface as we speak. It should last through the healing process at the least,” he explains.

“Do you have one?” you ask then, and he's taken aback by the sudden personal question.

“I do.”

“Does everyone?”

“Everyone here, I’d think. Most people want one. The universe is a vast place,” he says.

You are silent for a long moment. He feels you shaking as he begins to apply the new bandage. Your sleeve is solidly over your eyes still. You swallow audibly, and speak again.

“It's the reason I can’t go home,” you state. “Sun said there was no way to remove it.”

The bandage wrapper is crushed in Moon’s hand. Damn him.

“Just one reason, but yes.”

“But maybe,” you go on as if you hadn’t heard him, “If we cut the end off, my skin can grow back over it. Nobody would know,” you say.

Moon frowns. He wants to tell you there is a way out. But…

“The technology is owned by Allnet,” he explains. “And while it's installed in you and I, we are actually not allowed to tamper with it; normally, you would be informed of this and required to sign an acknowledgement before it's installed. The truth is, we ourselves do not own the devices, even though they become a part of us,” he says sadly. “Which means that we can neither alter it, nor can you go anywhere where that technology is restricted without special authorization.”

“But–"

“Imagine if you appeared out of the blue, a missing person with no ability to explain where you had been. You will already be under some amount of scrutiny; Perhaps it becomes known that you are suddenly able to understand every language you hear. You would flag any scanner or X-ray you entered through. And at the time of your death, the device could be found or removed from you.”

“...”

“...I’m sorry. But it's best to not even entertain these thoughts. They will only lead to disappointment,” he says more gently. Neither of them speak for a time after that. Eventually, your sleeve is removed from your eyes, and your hands return to your lap.

“I wish Sun had actually wanted to help me,” you say after a time. He glances at your profile. Your expression is blank. “I wish anyone had.” Moon is left speechless at that; what could he even say?

After all—what ‘care’ could Moon say he could give you, that would mean anything to you at all?

---

Here's a sneak peak of my animatic! I wonder if anyone knows what tiktok sound I'm using here? It's gotten kinda popular! It's totally non-canon of course but I think its perfect for these characters.

Notes:

Thanks for reading! Not to worry, it won't always be sad times.

Also nobody called me on it... but for the last chapter, in the charts that had some of the Glamrock’s names, I put Chica’s last name as “Dee” (Chicadee, lol) as a placeholder intending to go back and change it to something less stupid… but alas, I did not remember to change it. Lol 🙃 Whoops guess that’s canon haha.

Leave me a snack by leaving a comment, hmm?

Chapter 6: The Boogyman

Summary:

You take a walk with Moon. You try to assert a boundary. You meet someone strange, and Moon tells you a story.

Notes:

Hello hello!

I FINISHED MY ANIMATIC! I will post the link after the chapter :)
Enjoy!

Dr. Nocturne successfully convinced you to take a walk with him. He gives you a simple tour of the building, and while it’s somewhat dull, it’s still better than your four walls, you’ll admit.

The doctor does not overexplain, and rather, keeps things brief. In some ways, you’re grateful. In others, you miss Sun’s endless monologuing; At least it filled the silence - and kept the expectation for a reply from you low.

The doctor is… attentive to you. If you fall behind, he slows down. If your eyes linger too long somewhere, he explains more. Still, the consideration is hardly appreciated; his eyes are keen, and he notices more than Sun did. You have trouble returning the favor.

Compared to Sun who wore his emotions on his sleeve, Dr. Nocturne is a closed book.

“So,” the doctor starts, and your attention moves back to him. He’s looking at you from the corner of his eye. “What are you doing with the spoon?” He asks.

You sigh.

“The only one I’m with right now is you,” you say eventually. His eyes narrow.

“And your plans with the spoon you took from breakfast?”

“Who’s breakfast?”

“Your breakfast,”

“No - I’m human. Nice to meet you,” you say easily.

Dr. Nocturne stops walking completely at that. He turns to you, and where you expect to see frustration... you’re met with dark, shining pupils. The edge of his mouth is pulled up like he’s resisting a smile. His face says… he likes this game.

You falter a bit; your deflections would always drive Sun crazy. If it were him, he’d be pulling out his feathers by now. You… weren’t sure what to make of Dr. Nocturne’s reaction.

“...You won’t win every time,” he says, turning ahead again. You exhale a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You don’t really feel like you’ve won at all.

.

.

.

You enter the cafeteria last. It appears the straggling few employees from the lunch hour are trickling out. You’d seen many researchers and staff already, more than you’d seen since coming here. It appears they had stopped avoiding you, though they don’t approach; if you could put your finger on it, you’d say they were almost… nervous.

At first, the Allnet staff had all looked like someone took the character creator and hit ‘random’. You’d had the same feeling when you’d been outside with Sun— the citizens, to your eyes, seemed like a walking roulette of skin, scales, fur and feathers. But as you’d wandered through the facility, you had begun to see patterns, repeats of the same species that you could identify.

You observe a species you were vaguely familiar with now; sweeping the floor at the edge of the room, the custodian is androgenous, bald, and fair-skinned to the point that you can see their veins clearly. Their ears have the same placement as your own, but emerge from either side of their jawline on a stalk—before unfurling into pointed ears. They glance at you with milky eyes, and you catch a glimpse of webbed fingers around the broom handle before you divert your gaze.

I saw one of their species outside on the patio with Sun, you remember.

You’re both seated now, taking a breather after walking the sprawling center. Two metal cups of water sit in front of you. You can catch glimpses of the cooks cleaning up behind the counter. The cafeteria feels… human. Normal.

Your eyes shift to the scientist in front of you. Of all the creatures—people—you had seen, you hadn’t seen any other Casilks in the building.

“Are Casilks…” you hadn’t meant for the question to leave your lips, but you had spoken without thinking.

“Yes?” Dr. Nocturne has moved his attention onto you.

“...Particularly rare?” You wince.

He tilts his head in thought. “In this galaxy, yes. In others… still rare, but more common, if you know where to look.”

“I see.”

“Is there some reason why you ask?”

“...I just didn’t see any others since we’ve been walking around.”

“Ah. No. Dr. Solair was the only Casilk researcher in this galaxy, if I understand correctly,” he tells you.

They’re apparently rare, and it still just happens that the first and second researcher assigned to me are both…

…You sigh. You can connect the dots even if you don’t really want to - and you aren’t about to open that can of worms with Dr. Nocturne.

Somehow, you think casually mentioning his genetic history would be a deeply personal leap in polite conversation.

You feel the doctor’s eyes on you, and you reluctantly look back. You can tell something is brewing in his mind, and you do hope he doesn’t bring it up himself. You had actually been a bit hopeful that he wouldn’t, after your conversation with him yesterday. The impression you had was that if Dr. Nocturne feels some kind of way about you, then he has the decency to not make that your problem. Sun had no such reservations.

Shameless.

“...Miss,” he begins, and you straighten. “In a few cycles, a psychologist will be coming here. He’s an Ursid species - resembling a bear, from your planet. He’s a good person, and I don’t recommend others lightly. I know that my words might not mean much - being a Casilk even. But I hope you will be open to speaking with him.”

You absorb his words quietly. He settles in then, closing his eyes and taking a drink from his cup. He doesn’t appear to be pressuring you to reply— so you shouldn’t.

Just let it go, you tell yourself. There’s no reason to respond to him.

…

Your eyes slide to him. He’s been nothing but fair with you, so far.

No. I’m in no position to try the ‘being nice’ angle again. I promised myself—

“I don’t… think you’re like Sun,” you grit out. The words come out of you unbidden, and you’re suddenly exhausted. “...so it's fine.” The sigh that leaves you disturbs the surface of your water.

So foolish.

You resist the urge to scowl; maybe you’ll never learn. Flattering Sun had only made him happier; your good manners did nothing for you in this place, as much as you’d hoped they’d help you garner sympathy. And yet here you were…

Pathetic.

You try to subtly assess his reaction. Maybe it was a useless thing to say, anyway; maybe he doesn’t care.

But then, deep red eyes move to your own, and you think you see them soften somewhat. He nods. “Thank you for saying so.”

“…”

You glance away.

It wasn’t kindness, you tell yourself. It was just… one of the only powers you have, as gross as it makes you feel. A small manipulation; a plea, disguised as a compliment. “Please don’t be like Sun,” is what you mean.

“...Casilks,” he interrupts your thoughts, and then appears to hesitate. You wipe the frown from your face, moving it into something more neutral; you’re a bit suspect of where this is headed. “...Did Dr. Solair ever share any information with you about…the history of our species?”

Yeah…

…You absolutely don’t know anything about it.

You crease your brow in mock confusion. “I’m not sure. He told me the full name of his species… the aves-something, and that he was cold-blooded,” you tell him.

“Avesauria, and that is true,” he agrees. “Was that all he said?”

“...He talked a lot. He told me that he used to travel with a group of merchants as a child. That his home planet resides in a different system and he came here after developing an interest in studying humans. But mainly, he talked about life here, and Allnet.” You toss a bunch of useless information out in front of you both.

“I see. You probably had a lot of questions,” he surmised. You furrow your brow.

“Eh,” you cringe. “Not really.”

“You didn’t? Was Dr. Solair difficult to ask?”

You narrow your eyes in thought, then. Considering it now, it had been a slow progression to the point where you could hardly communicate with Sun at all. You supposed there was no reason not to be honest here.

“Well… yes, and also, not exactly,” you shook your head. “I’m sure he would have been willing to answer me. But Sun was… a lot. It wasn’t that I was afraid of him, though. Not exactly,” You pause here, looking away in thought. “I’m still unpacking a lot of it,” you say. “But… If I could put it into words… I think I always kind of knew he didn’t want to help me leave. Nothing made him happier than when I would express even a little interest in anything outside of going home. He would talk and talk and become so…” you cut off, a scowl turning your lips down as you think of it.

“It’s okay, I think I understand.”

“He… it’s clear in retrospect, that at a certain point, he was just really tired of even pretending to entertain my concerns. He was barely pretending he still wanted to help me leave, so I guess I stopped asking questions because… I didn’t want to express any interest or encourage him, either.” You sit back in your seat. “...but I guess he still got his way in the end, huh?” You continue to scowl, but your eyes betray you. You lift your sleeve; only a few tears fall, so you wipe them quickly before settling once more.

Stupid.

You feel like you’ve been rambling on for too long, and only served to upset yourself.

Dr. Nocturne wears a pained expression as he listens; He gives you another few moments to settle before he speaks again.

“Your recounting of him is… similar to how others have described him. And though I know his professionalism is the least of our concerns with what he did… I would like to ask about that next. If that’s alright?”

“Shoot,” you sigh.

“Dr. Brach said Dr. Solair appeared to… be very attentive to you,” he says. You cringe, and he continues. “Did he ever do anything that made you… uncomfortable?”

You give it a moment to think. It would be, perhaps, too ignorant to pretend you didn’t know what he was asking.

“It was all kind of uncomfortable,” you admit, tilting your head in thought. “But yeah… he was certainly more affectionate than I was used to. I guess I just assumed the touchy-ness was a cultural difference, or that it was his personality. I sort of still think it might be the latter; He didn’t even ask me to call him by his title, so… professionalism probably wasn’t what he was going for.” you explain.

“He would touch you without your permission…?” You wince at that.

“...Yeah, but…It wasn’t… like that, or anything,” you said, looking away. “It was just a lot of like, pulling me around, petting my hair, that sort of thing. And… it wasn’t always completely unwelcome,” you admit. “I was having a rough time, and he would always at least act understanding. Always ready with his arms open, if I…was in a bad way,” you look down at your lap, your ears heating. Gross.

You don’t see Dr. Nocturne wince alongside you.

“You were far from home and by yourself. Sun offered you comfort,” the doctor says gently. “It’s understandable. There’s no shame in it.”

You shrug. The comfort is cold, and somehow you feel worse for it.

“...I see now that he just wanted results,” you continue. A half-lie. “Sun was a good actor, but he didn’t really care. If I was a successful transplant, I think he thought it would make him look good.” That was really only a guess on your end, though.

And you could say more; Sun was obsessive and deeply selfish. He couldn’t keep his talons off you to the point that you became tired of fighting him. He’d give you uncomfortable praises and compliments frequently, and would pout if you didn’t at least try to say something nice about him back.

Dr. Nocturne is giving you a hard look as he seems to consider what you’ve said; you can’t read it, but you hold eye contact, blinking slowly back at him.

“I see,” he said flatly. “On behalf of the department, I’m sorry you were treated that way.”

“Right, well,” what could you even say– ‘it's all good’? “I’ll admit, I was a little surprised that the new specialist was another Casilk. Honestly, seeing how rare you guys are, what are the chances?”

Oh yeah, unbelievable.

You look up at him innocently. His expression tightens minutely.

Yeah, I figured.

“But, I don't think you’re like him; I appreciate that you don’t try to act like my friend. You’ve made your goals clear, and it’s better this way,” you try and emphasize your point. Another subtle manipulation. A request without a request. Please keep things professional.

Dr. Nocturne sits back in his seat at that, and you give him a moment to digest. You hope you’ve set some fairly clear expectations... ‘Genetic affinities’ aside, the researchers here were never going to be your allies. And even while Sun’s comfort was welcome at the time, it made it all the worse in the end.

—

Moon’s POV

Moon was left scratching his head after the interaction. He hadn’t meant to ask so much; he had told himself he would leave it to Freddy to ask the sensitive questions. And yet, it felt like they had begun to clear the air of something — perhaps, the previous doctor’s shadow that still lingered around you so heavily.

You were either unwilling to admit you knew of Casilks’ affinity for humans (or perhaps, mercifully, willing to pretend it wasn’t a thing, for both their comfort) — or more likely, you really didn’t know.

He could imagine a bombastic individual like Dr. Solair sharing that sensitive information with no shame. The same couldn’t be said for him; it would be a deeply uncomfortable conversation for Moon, and would color every interaction with you going forward.

He felt like he could finally breathe.

“Thank you for speaking to me about this,” he tells you. “I know this isn’t easy for you.” You just shrug. Your eyes have moved off to the right, and you suddenly snap them back down to your drink.

Moon looks over to see—

Ah.

The custodian across the room is watching them.

As soon as Moon makes eye contact, they begin making their way over.

“Pardon the intrusion,” they say. “But are you by chance, the human?”

You glance back up, eyes widening. Your eyes meet his own, and he nods. It was likely everyone in this building knew you were here, after what happened with Dr. Solair. People talk.

“Yes,” you say carefully. “Can I… help you?”

“Perhaps,” they say. “We were curious about something. When you are under duress, what is the catecholamine that is produced for human bodies?”

Moon narrows his eyes, but doesn’t intervene.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand the question,” you say.

“Your chemical for fear, for fleeing. Ours is octopamine, for example.”

“... Could you be talking about adrenaline, maybe?”

Moon’s eyes flash back to the custodian.

“Ahh, epinephrine, then? That is… ideal,” they say. Their eyes move over to Moon then, making eye contact with him. His eyes narrow back in challenge.

“...happy to help,” you answer weakly. You look between them as the stare-off continues.

I dare you to ask me, Moon thinks. He waits, but the Gestalt seems to read enough from his expression and steps away from the table without another word.

You watch them leave the cafeteria before you say anything, and Moon can see the question in your eyes before you ask it.

“What was that all about?”

“That,” he sighs, “Was a member of the Gestalt Consciousness. A hivemind who… used to be, of some import,” he explains. “I suppose there is no harm in telling you, as it is common knowledge now. The Sovereign Universal Court waged war with the Consciousness for a few generations. The Court eventually won, reducing the hive’s numbers to a fraction of what they were. In order to not be wiped completely, they had to agree to a number of terms set upon them. For example, no killing anyone under the Court’s protection, and their numbers must stay under a certain amount.”

“And they’re just… here now? Working and hanging out?”

“They are technically citizens now, too. They can do what they’d like, as long as they don’t cause trouble.”

Even if that is their intention, Moon thinks, frowning into his cup.

“I guess I just hadn’t imagined meeting a hivemind… doing custodial work,” you admit. Moon could be wrong, but you almost seem a bit… excited, your eyes still on the exit.

“Well, it’s been quite awhile since the war. It ended in my parent’s lifetime; by the time I was born, they had already assimilated.”

“Wild,” you breathe. “So the assimilators became the assimilated.” Your head tilts in thought. His gaze flicks to the corner of your mouth that has turned up - just a bit. “Wait, but I’ve seen another member of their species before; at least, I think it was a different member,” you say. “They looked the same… do they not snatch the bodies of other species?”

“Oh?” Moon blinks. “No, no - it’s more like they take ideal parts from other creatures. They make new bodies themselves out of traits they consider ‘optimal’ from other species.” At your nervous look, he continues. “Ah, not to worry though. They have to receive express permission to touch anyone under the protection of the Sovereign Court,” he says. You raise your eyebrows at that.

“Who would ever give them permission?” You ask. Moon’s eyes slide to the door.

“...Nobody, I’m certain,” he says after a moment. Not without the proper incentive, anyway.

He doesn’t like it, but there was no cause for alarm; they were allowed to be interested. Moreover, without your own autonomy as a subject, they’d need his permission to take you— which he would never allow, no matter what they offered. He thinks it's safe to assume the hive knew that now.

“Hmm. that’s a little different from the sci-fi movies,” you mutter. Moon isn’t sure there is a translation for what you said, but you're already continuing on. “...hold up, does that mean— when I was talking to that member, I was actually talking to… like, everyone?”

“Yes, that’s right. There is only one mind though.” He watches your face rapidly lose color.

“How many… how many are left?” You ask. Moon can’t help the smile growing on his face. He could see how conceptualizing it could be difficult— though raised in the outer universe as he was, he'd never considered how strange it might seem.

“Oh, it would have to be under fifty-thousand, by law. But knowing them, it’s probably only just that.” Your eyes seem to glaze over at that.

“...Christ. Talk about stage fright,” you grit out.

Moon chuckles. “I think it’s closer to the opposite of what you’re thinking. Rather, if you had all fifty-thousand bodies before you, you’d still only be talking to one person,” he tells you. You blink.

“...That makes me feel a little better. How bizarre,” you marvel. “I’m…assuming they’re interested in my adrenaline? Why that of all things?” You ask. Moon actually frowns at this.

“Why indeed,” he leans forward in his seat, peering out where the member had exited. His eyes flick to you. “Adrenaline is rather rare within the Sovereign-occupied galaxies; even the sapient species you meet that appear mammalian no longer have adrenaline as a catecholamine compound, for the most part. They, and myself included, use other hormones and compounds like noradrenaline, octopamine, and tyramine to achieve a similar effect; Adrenaline is supposed to be the most potent, however,” he finishes. You hum in thought, leaning in as well as he speaks. Your face is rapt with attention, absorbing his words with interest. His eyes move over your expression, and he fights a smile.

If that was interesting to you…

Moon leans even closer then, and he sees your eyes widen. Lifting a hand, he mock whispers;

“Between us, there are a lot of tall tales about creatures with adrenaline; they are feared as myths and legends; the veritable boogyman of our society.”

He is smiling, eyes directed out toward where the hive member left; he’s proud of his use of your word against you, but when he shifts his gaze back to you, your face—

Your eyes are still wide, but then, they crease in humor. An incredulous look is growing over your expression, and suddenly you let out something like a half chuckle, half scoff. Your eyes are lit with amusement as you watch him, mouth tugging up in a smile at last.

And Moon is seeing it all up close, frozen as his eyes dart from one feature to another.

“Okay, you got me,” You chuckle, looking away somewhat sheepishly. “Did that actually translate, or…” you glance back, and as if suddenly aware of how close you are, you’re leaning away. Moon is still reeling, his chest bubbling with… something.

“Ah, ahem,” you clear your throat. There is still a smile on your face, at least. “Anyway… you’re kidding, right? All that over adrenaline?”

“...Yes, it’s true,” he tells you, pulling his mind together and leaning back in his own seat. “Although they call it something like ‘monster blood’—the translation is a bit on the nose, I’m sure; but they’re talking about adrenaline all the same.”

“But it really isn’t that big of a deal,” You say.

“You and I both know that, but they don’t. And they aren't the only ones who feel that way; there are many societies who have superstitions, and still scare their children at bedtime with tales of creatures with monster blood. But those with any understanding of the natural world know that it’s hardly ever used to its full capacity… from my understanding. And even if it is… the body is usually already gravely injured, or pushed to an extreme. It isn’t some ‘power’ that can be tapped into at will… right?”

“Heh. What if I told you it was?”

“I would tell Dr. Brach he has more to worry about than rocks,” Moon raises a brow at you.

You give a small huff at that.

“Yeah, adrenaline works more like the ‘last-ditch’ measure. Run a little faster, hit a little harder, feel a little less pain, temporarily. But, there are stories… mothers lifting burning vehicles to save their children, things like that. It would have to be a crazy circumstance to ever see something like that in person, though— it’s kind of a myth even to us,” You tell him.

Moon… is intrigued. To research humans had been one thing, but it was another entirely to hear one speak of their experience being one. And now, you were also able to share your perception of the larger universe with him, as you saw it. It was… refreshing, to see it through your eyes.

He hasn’t enjoyed a conversation like this in… well. Revolutions, maybe.

Dr. Solair must have forgotten to add “excellent conversationalist” to his notes, he thinks. Although, he doubts greatly that Sun was able to have a proper two-way conversation with you, from the sound of it.

But here you were, willing to talk to him despite everything— alert and awake in a way he hadn’t seen before, elbows on the table and cup held in front of your mouth as you watch the cooks move around thoughtfully. You are smiling softly as your eyes move to his own; an entire universe of interesting thoughts swirling in your small self, should you choose to share them.

And he had actually tried to refuse coming here.

“Shall we return?” he asks, standing from his seat. You nod. “Please start heading back that way, I want to have a word with the cooks regarding your next meals,” he tells you.

You hesitate. “Alone?”

“Do you remember the way?”

“...Yes. Don’t fall too far behind though.”

He makes a show of looking up and down your short form before saying, “It won’t take me long to catch up.”

You narrow your eyes at him and swiftly turn toward the exit without another word. He doesn’t think you’re offended, but he wonders how far he should push his luck as he enters the kitchen.

Speaking briefly with the cooks, he has your next few meals arranged; he’s ensured there will be nothing harmful for humans.

Stepping back toward the table, he moves toward your cup. He would drop it in the lab before catching up to you; it would serve as an alternative to the spoon for a saliva samp–

—The water in the cup is untouched, not even a lip print.

“Hah,” Moon stares, astounded. “Oh… you little brat.” His eyes are narrowed at the cup, but a sharp grin has spread over his features. Laughter spills from him then, coming completely uninvited as he realizes you got him again, and the cooks turn their eyes away in discomfort.

Only a bit further down the hall, you smile.

Notes:

MY ANIMATIC IS HERE!! Warnings for language but otherwise it's SFW. After I uploaded it on imgur it de-synced my audio by juuust a hair, which drives me a little crazy, but I'm done messing with it lol

https://imgur.com/a/stellar-animatic-P65KriZ

Enjoy a little sneak peak of Freddy's design in there, too!

--

MC: I'm not gonna be nice to him
MC: *Is nice to him*
MC: FUCK

~Later~

MC: I think we should stay professional
Moon: Okay
Moon: So anyway, you wanna hear some sweet gossip—
MC: ༼ つ" ◕_◕ ༽つ" gimme

This chapter FOUGHT me. Like, FOUGHT. 🥵 Even with the completed story, I still go back and re-read before I post, and make small tweak after tweak again and again until I just have to put it away. There was so much nuance in this chapter with MC and Moon's interactions, I wanted to make sure the pacing was right and the characters were... well, in-character. That their reactions and responses seemed realistic.

MC... it's hard to describe her as 'manipulative' exactly; MC gives a lot of social cues that she hopes will get the reactions she wants, and very much struggles with how she handled Sun, considering it isn't the most assertive method she could have chosen (rather now, she wishes she'd screamed and yelled hah). But within her fish bowl, its easy for the scientists to call her 'manipulative'. That being said, she can be pretty tricky if she wants to be 😉 We'll see more of that, lol

Also, I just wanna say... I know nothing about science or biology 🙃 I did my best with research on catecholamines and adrenaline/epinephrine (same thing) but if I got something wrong please just humor me lol

As always, thank you for reading and drop a comment to let me know you're here!

Chapter 7: Two Steps Back

Summary:

You have a good day... and then you get a reality check.

Notes:

Sorry for the late chapter! I'm babysitting my mom's cat, Gemmi, while she's outta town (Gemmi was very recently diagnosed with hyperthyroidism and needs meds twice a day) and she was super sick today, threw up all night and all day to the point where I had to call out of work because I saw her still throwing up on my pet cam. Girl got me worried sick! She's finally eating again this evening, I put some electrolytes in her water and all that... and she's still got lots of energy so I'm not panicking yet (she's pissed as hell she's now locked in the bathroom). But I know she's not feeling too hot, and I was pretty distressed today. Spent my afternoon mopping, laundering my vomit-y couch covers, and cajoling her to eat😢 idk what it is about having a sick pet, but there's something all-consuming about the stress of it. Hopefully tomorrow will be better ❤️‍🩹

The next day, you make a request.

“Sun said I teleported here, but I don't remember it at all,” you tell him. “Where did I… enter from?" You ask.

Moon frowns, but assesses you. “You don't remember?”

“Sun had mentioned that I was struggling a lot on my way through. That they'd had to sedate me."

“I see. There are a few sedatives that could cause memory loss,” he nods. “I can show you where you entered, if you want,” he tilts his head toward the door.

.

.

.

You follow him through several halls and into a lift, and Moon takes a moment to observe you. You must have showered at some point before he came to you this morning - your hair is a bit damp, though freshly brushed. The bruised-looking skin beneath your eyes seems a bit less, too, he thinks.

Moon is pleasantly surprised; he had been prepared to cajole you into bathing again today - or even forcibly place you in the bathroom, the way Dr. Solair had described. Was it possible you were feeling good enough to bathe on your own?

…the thought makes something warm flicker through his chest, and he decides he won’t read too much into it.

It doesn't take long for the lift to reach the top floor. You enter into a hallway, and Moon watches your eyes travel to the left wall - rather, where a wall should be. Instead, observation glass lines that side of the curved hallway. Through it, he can see the room on the level below, where the teleport gate resides. The gate is inside its own enclosure of reinforced bars; a security measure if ever a need arises to bring lifeforms through. The four research drones sit lifelessly in their charging port just outside.

“I don’t remember this at all,” you say. You seem to be looking at the bars, and your hands rub against your forearms. “I think I’m kind of glad. It’s spooky,” you add.

Moon looks again at the room; he supposes it is a bit ‘spooky’. The darkened, unpowered gate and shadowed, barred enclosure. It's surrounded by monitors and equipment; he can imagine being an unsuspecting species kidnapped from their cozy home, and winding up in a cage, ogled from all sides…

He’s glad you don’t remember, either.

“Nobody's using this room today?” you ask.

“If a scientist would like to run an observation or collection project, they can book this space,” he explains.

“Are we able to go inside?” You ask. Moon pauses at that; you haven’t turned away from the glass, and you appear to be looking at the gate intently.

…

“...No, we can’t. And… the gate only works one-way. It was designed for remote research; it cannot be used to send anything except the spy drones through,” he tells you gently. He watches the subtle shift in your body language from his words. Your shoulders come up slightly, and there’s a pause where he wonders if you’ll argue with him. But then, you glance over at him— and you’re smiling stiffly, resignation and frustration warring in your eyes.

Without a word, you turn away, wandering further down the hallway.

“Where does this lead?” You ask then. Moon blinks at the quick turn around, but moves to catch up with you. You’re standing before a stairway up.

“The roof,” he tells you. You go to climb the stairs, but he continues. “You shouldn’t go outside; the air here isn’t ideal for you,” he says. You turn to him, your brows furrowing.

“Just a for a bit? I’ve already been out,” you argue. His gaze moves between your eyes as you wait.

I should say no, he thinks. But… it seemed like you could use the win; he didn’t want to keep telling you ‘no’ for everything you asked, if he could help it.

What was one concession?

“...Just for a bit,” he tells you, and your mouth hitches up on one side as you turn to continue up the stairs. He’s frustrated that that alone made him feel as though it was worth it.

“It’s locked!” He hears you complain from the top, and he chuckles as he follows you into the stairwell. At the top, he can see you looking out the window set into the door to the outside.

“I’ve got it,” he says, smile on his lips. He leans over you, reaching across your form to run his ID over the lock. In the moment, you’re a few steps higher than he is and closer to his face than usual. Moon catches the scent of your hair as his face nears your head. When you turn to peer back at him, he can see your eyes at close range; he wills the blood from rising to his face, moving his eyes off you.

However, upon hearing the door unlatch, you turn back to it as if you hadn’t noticed anything. You trot out onto the roof, the outside air ruffling your drying hair. Moon follows closely, his eyes squinting against the bright light.

As you get a bit too close to the edge for his liking, he steps up next to you, his hand coming to wrap around your upper arm.

“I’m not going to fall,” you say, looking up at him. He tilts his head at you. “Or jump,” you add.

“I know, I know,” he sighs. “Humor me?” You frown at him, unimpressed, but you’re looking back over the scenery again. It is a beautiful day, even if the bright sun here was a bit much for him in large amounts. The planet's pollen shroud obscures the sun somewhat, at least.

“Is pink a common sky color?” You ask. He tilts his own head back, observing the murky pink sky with you.

“No; As far as I’m aware, it’s only Kelaris,” he tells you. “It’s just special that way I guess. Blue is most common, since…” he glances down at you. “Well, reasons.”

“Because of how blue light scatters, right?" You glance up at him, and he blinks down at you in surprise. “We may not have space travel, but humans know science. And even basic humans like me usually know… well, the basics,” you tell him.

Ah. He feels a bit chagrined.

“Sorry, miss,” he says. You just shake your head. “The sky is pink because of the pollen that the type of plant life on this planet produces. The fact that it's as vibrant as it is actually indicates that it hasn’t rained in awhile,” he explains. “After a rain, the sky is usually blue for some time,” he adds. He glances back down, and has to do a double-take. Your eyes are large and shining as you observe the world before you. The park, the lake, the city beyond it. A pink haze obscures anything much further than that.

“Sun was disappointed that I didn’t want to stay. He said he ‘thought humans would be more curious’,” you say with a scoff. Moon waits for you to continue quietly. “The thing is, I am curious. Just…” you trail off.

“I understand,” he says. You look at him with a touch of incredulity, but nod.

“If the air isn’t good here,” you switch gears, “Does that mean I shouldn’t stay here, after?”

“I would advise against it, yes,” he nods.

“Where should I go, then?” you ask. He meets your gaze.

For a moment, he sees you standing against a window, your silhouette darkened against a red sunset. You turn and meet his eyes in the lamp light—

“...I’m not sure,” he tells you. “There are a lot of options; but I think we should choose a safe system, somewhere central.” You hum in response. He’s pleased by the fact that you’re finally willing to begin talking about this. Only a few days prior, you shut down on him for even mentioning the future.

He is glad. And yet…

His eyes trace over your small form; a warm and bright thing, observing the world around you with wonder. He thinks about you, out there on your own… a twinge of worry has him clenching his teeth; he could make the best possible choice with you, give you all the support you need, and still… the wrong pair of eyes could land on you.

He imagines you miss a check-in. And then the next. And by the time he gets to your dwelling, he finds the door broken in, and you—

He gently tugs your arm, turning you to face him. You look up at him curiously.

“...Listen to me,” he tells you. And then, not liking the way his shadow crosses over your face, he decides to kneel. You blink in surprise, your attention fully on him now. “This is important.”

“Okay. What’s up?"

“...You might— no. You will get questions about what you are. People will want to know why they’ve never seen someone like you before. And most people—most questions—will be innocent. Well-intentioned curiosity from neighbors and future friends. But,” he continues, holding up a taloned finger. “I urge you not to mention that you are a restricted species. If they ask if there are others of your kind, say that there are. You can be vague, or you can create a story, whatever you’re most comfortable with,” he tells you.

“...What kind of story?” You ask, your eyebrows creasing lightly in worry.

“Well— maybe humans are nomadic, or maybe they live in closed communes, and you’ve ventured out. But they don’t need to know the details, and most importantly, they don’t need to know you are the only one.”

True concern creases your face now, as you look between his eyes. He’s still got his hand on your arm as he kneels to your level, assessing your understanding.

“Is it really so bad, being the only one?” you ask. His gaze softens on you.

“Of course not,” he assures you. “But…things that are considered rare out here… there are those that would try to exploit that. There is no need to attract that sort of attention.”

And yet, he knows you may get it regardless.

“I’m just a human though. I’m not strong or smart or valuable, even my adrenaline isn't actually—”

“No. Even without the myths of monster blood, you look plenty valuable, to the right—or wrong—person,” he tells you. “In fact, I think it's better that you assume you are the most valuable thing around, if it will make you keep your guard up. If you feel eyes on you, don’t dismiss it. If you think someone seems suspicious, assume that they are,” he tells you; and he knows he might be frightening you.

But you are valuable, and not just to those of his kind; He knows this far better than he could ever tell you.

He had seen so much of the dark underbelly of the galaxy; he knows of the twisted desires of the clientele who lurk there, with the credits to pay for their illicit ‘products’.

You would be advertised as a rare flower, and eaten alive.

“I understand,” you tell him, a tightness in your voice. “I won’t tell anyone, and… I’ll try to listen to my instincts,” you try to assure him, but your own voice leaks doubt. He sighs then, moving to stand back up. Your arm slides through his hand as he does so, until he is holding your wrist. He observes your hand as he thinks.

“I… don’t mean to scare you; more than likely… nothing will happen. You will settle, build community, and find a support system within it.”

“There’s no life anywhere without risk. I get that. Earth was the same,” you tell him. He glances up to your face, and you’re looking at him with a soft - if not a little sad - expression. “...thank you for worrying, Dr. Nocturne.” He blinks, suddenly becoming aware of his position, your wrist too warm in his hand. He steps away from the edge of the building, pulling you with him before letting you go.

“We should head inside now,” he says, and you nod.

He reaches into his pocket for his key as he approaches the door, but pauses as he feels something unfamiliar. Pulling it out—

…it's a spoon. He glances down at you. You’re gazing up at him innocently, hands behind your back.

“When did you…” he tries to think back; he remembers your eyes on him as he leaned past you to unlock the door to the roof. He had been flustered, you had been so close, and you—

Ah.

“When did I what?” you ask, and he can see you resisting a smile. Your eyes move to the spoon. “Oh, you were keeping a spoon in your pocket? Smart. Never know when you might need one,” you nod sagely.

“...Indeed,” he says. “Never know when you might need it to fight off a scheming human.” He can’t resist knocking you on the forehead with it, and you laugh then. His own smile spreads as he observes your face. For a few moments, your eyes are closed in laughter as you revel in the satisfaction of completing your small heist. When you open them again, your eyes meet his, and then -

- your face darkens somewhat, and you turn your gaze away. Moon blinks, something fluttering in his chest at your reaction.

What.

“Let’s go in then,” you nod at the door. “Seeing your spoon reminded me… I’m a little hungry,” you add.

.

.

.

—

Your POV

“Seriously?” Your eyes are crescents, pressed up by your smile. “And they just…believed that?”

“I’m the ‘human specialist’, last time I checked. What could they do? Tell me I’m wrong?” Dr. Nocturne laughs.

You had asked him how he was able to get you real meals, when Sun had claimed the department wouldn’t allot the resources for it.

Apparently, he’d told the facility managers it was a life-or-death situation.

“They weren’t going to take the chance I wasn’t lying— on the off chance they’d have to explain to the department head why they let a subject die under their watch,” he says, lifting his cup with a smile.

You had been somewhat confused when Dr. Nocturne had taken a different route back - not toward your room at all. You’d ended up back at the cafeteria, and he’d told you that today, he would eat with you.

You had been pleasantly surprised - until you realized the cafeteria was busy today. You found yourself hunching your shoulders against the stares, but observing the doctor across from you, he seemed to be taking the gawking in stride.

“They’re staring,” you had whispered.

“They may stare,” he had told you calmly.

You must have made an odd sight, the two of you together. Your legs dangle from the tall bench as you eat, and you wonder how you look. Beige, canvas clothing and likely frazzled appearance - you think you must look like an escaped hospital patient. You suddenly get the overwhelming feeling that you don’t belong here, and you are reminded that you are an other in this place.

Nothing like the man sitting across from you, you think.

He’s poised and graceful, long taloned fingers delicately holding his utensils as he cuts his food, seeming perfectly at ease; as if at home. The dark, shining feathers around his head are swept back elegantly, a length of them cascading over one of his shoulders. His eyes are lidded as he observes his work, until— red eyes glance up at you. A smirk lifts the side of his mouth, and you are suddenly flustered.

“I-it doesn’t bother you?” You force out.

“Not so much anymore,” he tells you. “I hardly fit in here, either, but that’s not my problem,” he tells you, as if it’s obvious. And then he points his fork at you, breaking the polite image. “And it isn’t your problem either. So, let them stare,” he tells you. You blink, looking back over the room. Several eyes divert from your gaze. Trying to take his advice, you straighten just a bit, before looking back to him.

Was there something you missed about Dr. Nocturne?

“...I wouldn’t know you don’t fit in,” you say. “Is it because… you transferred here? Or because you’re a Casilk?” you ask.

He looks at you a moment too long before his eyes flit back down to his food. A soft smile is on his mouth, as if he’s found something amusing.

“Both probably contribute, I suspect,” he says, but doesn’t elaborate. You tilt your head as you observe him, but don’t press.

—

Moon’s POV

Your question had thrown him a bit.

Moon had lived with it for so long, he had almost forgotten… to someone like you, it wouldn’t be obvious; in fact, you wouldn’t see anything wrong with him at all.

You just saw him.

And that thought… made him unreasonably happy. You would find out, at some point - about his nature, about his family - but for today, your gaze was clear as you looked at him.

“...well, whatever you did to get it, I’m grateful for the food,” you tell him. “Sun was usually pretty strict about protocol… until that last day, for some reason,” you say. Moon frowns. “Which thinking about it, I guess was kind of strange for him,” you speculate, taking a bite of your food.

Moon had similarly wondered about that. His actions with you… had been above board, at least on paper. His routine was timed down to the minute, his notes detailed and well-organized. And yet, on the last day…

Moon doesn’t say it to you, but he suspects Dr. Solair wanted that last bit of time with you before things… changed with you. Whether you found out what he did, or simply found out you couldn’t go home… Moon suspects that Sun knew it might be his last day to enjoy a hopeful, somewhat happy human. And so, he had taken you outside.

“Maybe he knew what was going to happen…” your voice is laid over his thoughts, and Moon blinks. It appears you’d both come to the same conclusion.

“Dr. Solair sounds like a deeply selfish person,” he says. It's cold comfort, even to his own ears. “I’m sorry you were caught in his orbit.” You place an elbow on the table, your cheek in your hand as you scoff.

“Ain’t that just the way?” you say with a shrug. The statement is inappropriate in its levity, but it seems to bring you some amount of humor; A small smile forms on your face, and you begin to laugh. “It’s just - aha - how it goes sometimes. What can you do, right?” your shoulders are shaking as you revel in your own joke. Your eyes are welling though, and you push your hands against them as your breathy laughter continues.

He’s sad for you; and yet, here you are, managing as best you can. With Freddy’s help… he thinks you’ll be alright.

Once you settle, Moon continues. “Well, more on the subject… if a rule doesn’t make sense, I’m not opposed to breaking it.” Rather, he’d never had too much respect for the rules. He doesn’t mention that to you, though. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need, and I’ll find a way to get it for you,” he tells you. And he means it.

You nod. “Thanks for looking out for me,” you say. You smile at him then - a real smile, your reddened eyes watching him with soft approval. He knows then, that if you asked for the moon and stars, he would find a way to get them for you.

And lost in his own thoughts, he forgets to update you on his schedule.

—

Your POV

Dr. Nocturne wasn’t around the next day, and Dr. Brach told you it was his day off. After the admittedly lovely time you had had the last few days with Dr. Nocturne (directly after you’d implied you’d like to keep things professional, no less), you had almost forgotten…

Your life was just a job to these researchers. And Dr. Nocturne needed a weekend, apparently.

You… feel like you’ve had the wind knocked out of you by the reminder.

“I see,” You say simply, and sit to have your bandage replaced. “Well?”

Dr. Brach is caught off guard, but hustles over anyway, laying what he needed out on the table just like Dr. Nocturne - and Sun - would.

Stupid.

You feel foolish. You were regretting how much you had enjoyed your time with Dr. Nocturne. You had felt like yourself, for the first time in weeks, laughing over a meal with a friend - and it had just happened so easily. Dr. Nocturne was easy to talk to, conversation and banter coming effortlessly. You had been enjoying your time with him; and you had thought, maybe, he enjoyed the time with you, too.

Idiot. Fucking stupid.

At first, you had felt that he was a little intimidating. Tall and graceful, with a dark, steady gaze. But he was surprisingly patient, and didn’t get upset when you weren’t cooperative. Rather, he seemed to almost enjoy the back and forth.

…Sun wouldn’t have known what to do.

He would be yanking at the feathers on his head in frustration. He wasn’t one for banter, and didn’t know quite how to respond if you placed willful obstacles in his way, or played a prank on him. Dr. Nocturne seemed to view the push and pull as a kind of game that he might just win.

And while you had appreciated Sun for all of his niceties, it was hard to be honest with him in the same way you could be with Dr. Nocturne, about most things.

Yes; the sharp edges of your grief had felt slightly more distant in the last few days, and you knew it was a direct result of his influence. You had softened somewhat under the consideration Dr. Nocturne treated you with— from the food you ate to the warmth of your habitat, his quiet attention to your well-being could still be felt. Sun had thought it was enough to give you his arms. But Moon… had given you his ear. And you’d felt heard.

You remembered the feeling of his hand around your arm on the roof top, the concern in his eyes as he looked at you…and now…

…you were left like this. Remembering your place once more.

Dr. Brach has finished with your bandages; he sets a tray with three syringes down next to you.

“What are those?”

“We must administer the second set of vaccines,” he tells you. “Would you lift your sleeve?”

“Come back with a warrant.”

“What?”

“It means ‘get lost’.”

He sighs, removes the tray, and leaves without another word.

You'll make that Dr. Nocturne's problem when he gets back.

.

.

.

Dr. Brach delivered your lunch and dinner (you had requested no breakfast, and unlike Sun, Dr. Nocturne had been understanding about it). You ate in silence.

You tried to imagine it was Sun who hadn’t shown up, how you would feel; you’d probably judge him— dragging you across the universe only to take a day off. Or maybe you’d be relieved; A few days every now and again of peace from his hovering attention. His stare, the endless smiles— they came across as creepy at times.

Dr. Nocturne’s quiet attention was much more welcomed.

You shook your head. You were the one to ask that you not be treated as a friend. This is exactly… exactly the problem with having only one person to rely on. Your eyes burned. Stop it.

How many times would you have to learn this lesson?

This is… quite enough, you decide.

Eventually… you are going to find a way out of here. Find your way onto a ship, and find your way home. You had already decided, no more crying about it; the universe is big, and space travel is accessible; once you figured out how, you’d stop relying on the DIC and take matters into your own hands.

Dr. Nocturne… was just all you had right now. He wasn’t your friend.

And just like Sun… his priority was keeping you docile, cooperative. And he had done a good job of it, because… you had really almost thought…

…

Naive.

…

You close your eyes.

.

.

.

By the time the lights went off for the evening, you had your resolve; Dr. Nocturne would be off tomorrow as well, according to the crab. The psychologist would be arriving, and you would say whatever you needed to to be released from the habitat. You were upset about your situation, but you weren’t insane; you could definitely pass a psych eval.

And then… you’d never see him again, anyway.

Notes:

Can I just say that its fucking HARD to remember to refer to Moon as "Dr. Nocturne" while in MC's POV? She doesn't know his first name! And no matter how certain I am everything is perfect, I go back and re-read and still find times where I've accidentally referred to him as Moon lol. Like damn, at least one always sneaks through and I have to edit it after already publishing the chapter.

Couple fun facts:
- Dr. 'Yura Brach' is just the scientific name for “crab”, which is brachyura. It's supposed to be pronounced 'brack' apparently, but I pronounce it 'brock'.
- I used a combination of scientific names of different bird/lizard species to come up with 'Casilk' as well as their full species name, 'Avesauria'. The Avesauria is somewhat self explanatory, 'aves' from birds and 'sauria' referencing dinosaurs. Casilk, I can't quite recall where I got the 'C' part anymore (my early hand-written brainstorming notes about this story are long gone) but the 'asilk' is a very gentle nod to the word 'basilisk'.
- I realized midway through writing this story and capitalizing all the species names (Casilk, Lepori, Ursid, etc.) that... 'human' isn't capitalized. So in the spirit of consistency, I went through and started turning the species names to lower case; but then that looked wrong to me, so I changed everything back and now it's just kind of a weird inconsistency. I'll be honest it has me a little fucked up and I wish I could unsee it, lol ಥ◡ಥ

Chapter 8: The Shadows We Fight

Summary:

You talk with Freddy. Some things about Dr. Nocturne start to make sense.

Notes:

Hey hey! For anyone curious, Gemmi (my mom's cat I was babysitting) is doing better! My mom and I both agree that I should take her permanently - my mom has like 30 cats on her property (a colony she maintains, all spayed) and can't really give Gemmi the care she needs; she'd receive irregular treatments at best (she needs twice a day) and live outdoors. In the 2.5 weeks since she was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism, she's gained .8lbs in my care 🥳 She was skin and bones when she was diagnosed, and I'd hate to see all our progress just disappear. Problem is my roommate is against it which is totally fair, so now I'm apartment hunting. Anyway, that's the long story 😅 I'm privileged to even be in a financial situation where I can move as I want, so... fuck it, 'noblesse oblige' I guess. I have the power to help, so I should. Got a little lady counting on me 🥲

…You might be insane. Standing before you is a bear—though not like any you’d ever seen—with a tiny hat on his head.

His fur is a soft brown overall— though his snout is cream colored, the color traveling up his forehead a ways before stopping. Streaks of deep blue fur frame his eyes and cheeks, almost like a mask. A blue streak also runs down his chin and vertically down his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his coat. You aren’t sure if it’s natural, or if the blue color is dyed; you aren’t about to ask.

Like the others, he’s a biped, standing on two digitigrade legs. And unlike any bear you’ve ever seen, his eyes are larger, a deep blue and clearly full of intelligence.

Not a regular bear at all, you think. Rather, a gigantic classy-looking teddy bear. You see two tiny fangs poking out from under his upper lips.

He’s… adorable. Christ.

You feel your face heat up at that, ears burning at your frankly embarrassing thoughts.

“Ahem,” Dr. Nocturne clears his throat.

And yes; For some reason, he’s also here.

You glance at the Casilk, and he’s frowning. “Everything alright?”

“Yep,” you answer. “Isn’t today your day off?” You say evenly. You keep it clipped and short.

His frown deepens. “I’m just here to make sure you made it to your appointment,” he says. His eyes shift over your face.

“Big of you.” Your voice is flat.

There’s a pause, and Dr. Nocturne goes to say something—

“...Hello miss, I’m Dr. Freddy Faz. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” the bear, choosing a rather opportune time, jumps into the conversation. He extends a hand in greeting, human-style.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, returning the sentiment and the handshake. His hand… paw? Is big and fluffy and soft ohmygod— “I–I understand you traveled to get here. Thank you for taking the time.”

The picture of soundness and good manners.

“Of course, it was no trouble. Please, right this way,” he says, directing you through a threshold to the next room. You enter without a glance at the Casilk whose eyes have not left you, and the two of them enter behind you.

“I think I can take it from here, doctor,” the bear says. Dr. Nocturne looks from Dr. Faz to you.

“What he said,” you say simply, seating yourself.

“...Yes, I’ll be going then,” he replies, but makes no move to leave.

You throw him a thumbs up. He glances down at it, and then back up to your face.

Ah, Sun would have known that one.

It was clear to you that had Sun and Dr. Nocturne joined forces, they may have truly been the ultimate ‘human expert’.

“...I think we’re all set, Moon,” Dr. Faz says quietly, almost… reassuringly. You blink.

Moon?

Dr. Faz moves to sit down across from you, and you turn your attention to him. You can still feel Dr. Nocturne’s eyes on you as he lingers, but eventually, you hear the door shut.

“Well then,” Dr. Faz starts. “It was nice of Dr. Nocturne to come in on his day off to get you settled, wasn’t it?”

“Sure,” you reply evenly.

“You seem a bit upset with him,” he continues. You bristle, just a bit.

“...I’m not,” you deny. “He’s just…some doctor.” the reply sounds lame even to your own ears.

“If you say so, miss,” Freddy smiles softly in sympathy. You feel suddenly that he can see right through you, and you avert your eyes.

“...Did you call him… Moon? Did I hear that right?”

“Ahh, my apologies, yes, Dr. Nocturne and I have been acquainted for some time. I did a fair bit of work in the Gloaming Galaxy where he lives.”

“I didn’t know his first name was Moon,” you said. “That's… really...” you weren't sure how to feel about it. Sun and Moon? What sort of coincidence is that?

“Because the only other Casilk you’ve met is called ‘Sun’? I understand how it might seem strange, but it isn’t; rather, it's part of their culture,” Dr. Faz explains. “Each member is named after some kind of celestial body. I believe there are three major families who follow these naming traditions - and Nocturne and Solair are two of them, the third being the Umbra family,” he goes on. “The Casilk family names will become familiar to you over time; they are quite well-known and contribute a lot to our society under the court. Be it in trade, law enforcement, or entertainment—one of the Casilk family names is usually behind it,” he says.

You blink, unsure of what to say to that.

“I had no idea they were that important,” you admit.

“Oh yes. The Casilks are something of a prestigious species. They do expect a lot from their members, though,” he says, and you wonder if you detect a touch of sadness there.

“What is the Nocturne family known for?” You ask.

“The Nocturnes are… well, they own many casinos and clubs across the galaxy. Much of their fold is in… business,” he says simply. His smile is a bit strained.

“And Solair…”

“Performers, influencers, all manner of work in the limelight. Some go into politics.”

That at least makes sense, you think. No wonder you haven’t met many; you likely wouldn’t bump into them doing grunt work.

“So they’re all like… celebrities,” you deadpan.

Dr. Faz laughs at that. “No, no, but they do command a certain amount of respect; they are generally high-achieving, come from a respected lineage, and usually, a fair amount of credits, too.”

Huh. You did recall Sun bragging something about being a ‘founding species’.

“And since we’re on the subject, it gets more interesting,” he tells you, leaning in. “For the first names, they have a whole system of naming their children; for each child born in a particular generation, their names are assigned from that generation’s pool of 8 names. Once a new generation begins, those 8 names change— until 6 cycles have passed. So that's 6 generations, 8 names per generation. Are you following so far?” He asks. You nod.

“Okay, I think so, please continue.”

“If you’re born in generation one, you will be assigned a name from the eight options of that generation’s name pool. Then, when you have a child, your child will have one of the eight names of the generation two pool. Your children’s children will get a gen three name, and so on. At least, that’s how it’s meant to go— of course it depends on the years your child is born between, but you get the picture.”

“And once you reach the sixth generation, it goes back to the set of gen one names?”

“Precisely; this assures that more than likely, no two generations are alive at the same time, making someone’s age obvious; especially in a species that doesn’t age as visibly as others. It’s also convenient in a family as sprawling as theirs, that upon your self introduction it will be obvious what your place in the hierarchy is.”

“Does that mean there could be a Moon Solair or a Sun Nocturne?”

Dr. Faz chuckles at that. “There very well might be, young lady,” he tells you. “And there is even more to it than that - the coloration of the child also dictates which name in the set should be chosen; unlike your own kind, where your features and your personality are completely separate, this isn't so for Casilks; A Casilk's coloration speaks a lot on the sort of personality they will have. Sun and Moon’s names, for example - their parents chose the name that best suited their personality, rather than choosing arbitrarily.”

You blink at this revelation.

“...They have ‘honest signals’,” you say, marveling.

“Ho-hoh! Very good! So you are familiar— something on earth is perhaps similar?”

“There are different species of birds that have coloration correlating with personality; it gives other creatures an early warning sign on whether or not they're worth messing with,” you tell him.

“Precisely the case here; while not necessary in civilized society, some time in Casilk's evolutionary history, it must have been useful to warn potential predators of the risk of confrontation. Fascinating, isn't it?”

“It really is,” you say breathlessly.

“On Earth, were you a student of the natural world?”

“I wanted to go into biology, or ecology. I even got into the university I wanted. But after adding up the costs, I couldn't afford it,” you explained. “But I still enjoyed learning where I could. Bird watching was considered a hobby for old people, but I enjoyed it all the same,” you tell him with a shrug.

“Self-taught then. If you find this interesting, you might find a lot here that will interest you,” he says gently.

“...I'm sure I would,” you concede politely. There's a beat, and then you continue. “So what does the coloration of Casilks say about them?”

“Ah, well,” Dr. Faz pauses then, wincing. “Perhaps it's best you hear it from me; you will learn one way or another what society thinks, upon entering it,” he tells you. You furrow your brows, but nod. “I would only ask that you keep in mind that all sapient people choose who they are; the same way you do, when you choose not to act upon a knee-jerk response. I encourage you to judge others by their actions.”

“...of course,” you say.

“The prevailing rule of thumb regarding Casilk colors is that warm colors—like yellows, oranges and reds—might point to a more friendly, outgoing personality. And that cooler colors—like greens and blues—are more serious, reserved. And then, their overall hue is said to indicate temperament,” he says. You take a moment to consider the colors on Dr. Nocturne and Sun.

“So, a dark blue would be…?”

There’s a pause, as Dr. Faz seems to consider his words.

“It might suggest,” he begins carefully, “A personality that is more private, and faster to conflict,” he finishes. His eyes are steady as he watches you.

“And Sun's would be… outgoing and… docile? Patient? It… doesn't really sound like Sun,” you say.

“I agree. This is why it isn’t particularly reliable when assessing someone’s intent. A better way to say it would simply be that lighter colors are perhaps more inclined to find alternative solutions that aren't direct conflict. But put simply— if this were a few thousand years ago, predators would view Sun as less of a threat, in the moment.”

And so Dr. Nocturne…

“....I see.”

“But, this isn't a few thousand years ago. You can imagine, perhaps, the effect that society's perception might have on an individual born with certain colors.”

“I'm familiar with prejudice,” you catch on quickly. There is a beat, and then Dr. Faz sighs, closing his eyes for a moment.

“....young one, I’m going to tell you this only once. Moon has always struggled with the assumptions of others; I know he likely wouldn't want me telling you this, and probably appreciates that you view him without the filter of the knowledge I've given you. But I would rather you learn this in a friendly environment with me, then out there, where society will preach in black and white.”

“I understand,” you nod. “That… hasn't been my experience with Dr. Nocturne at all,” you admit reluctantly. As irritated as you were with him at this time, you couldn’t say he had ever treated you unfairly.

“I hardly fit in here, either.”

He had said those words to you that afternoon in the cafeteria. You think you now understand what he might have been talking about. You sigh.

I’m in no position to be sympathizing with him.

Dr. Faz’s voice breaks you from your thoughts.

“Good. But enough about that! I will pretend I told you that as a small cultural lesson, rather than due to my proclivity to gossip.”

“Thank you for the culture, sir,” you nod sagely. He nods back with a smile.

“Now,” he starts, “why don’t we have a little chat, hmm? We can talk about whatever you want,” he says. “Just for the first session, anyway.”

“I’m afraid I’m not very good at small talk out here,” you admit to him. “If I asked you where you were from, I probably wouldn't even understand the answer. Or, your favorite food, your favorite hobby…”

“I enjoy reading,” he says.

“Oh. Me too,” you perk up.

“Your translator should allow you to understand written language as well,” he says. “Dr. Nocturne has already ordered some materials for you, to prepare you for life beyond these walls,” he informs you.

“....I guess I should have questioned why the ‘exit’ sign in the cafeteria was in English,” you admit sheepishly, and Dr. Faz tilts his head back and laughs at that.

“Dr. Nocturne was right, you are funny,” he tells you. You’re not sure how to take his words.

“Thank you?”

“Oh, it is a compliment, young one. His usual adjectives include more words like ‘irritating’. I can tell he thinks well of you, I assure you.”

“...”

You’re not sure what you can say to that. A funny feeling touches your chest briefly, but you shake it away, recalling your resolve.

He’s not my friend.

You don’t see Freddy frown as you sit back in your seat.

“Sure. Right. I’m sure I’m very entertaining to him,” you sigh. Freddy opens his mouth to reply, but you press on. “Dr. Faz, are you acquainted with Sun, too?” Freddy pauses, but doesn’t fight you on the subject change.

“I am,” the doctor says, his voice moving to something more solemn. “I think it is prudent to tell you, in the spirit of transparency, I have known Sun since he was a child; he is a friend, though one of some distance now,” he tells you.

“I see.” You fold your hands together on your lap, observing them.

“I’m also aware of what he did to you,” he continues gently. You meet his gaze. “I am so, so truly sorry, young one. Sincerely, I am.”

Your eyes heat almost instantly, at that. Who is this bear, to speak so genuinely?

You lift your sleeve to your eyes with a huff. “Thank you,” you manage.

“We do not have to speak of Sun today, however. Not unless you feel you would like to,” he continues.

“No, no it’s okay,” you say, willing your tears away. A stack of tissue is laid on the arm of your chair, and you gratefully take a few. “To be honest Dr. Faz… I have spent a really stupid amount of time crying since I’ve been here.”

“Please call me Freddy,” he tells you. You nod.

“Freddy. I guess I’m just… really tired of feeling sad. Of feeling helpless, all the time.”

“Not angry?”

“I was— I am,” you say. You ponder the best way to put it, for a moment. “But mostly, I feel like I’m fighting the same battles every day. The same ghost of the same person,” you explain. “And it isn’t as if I haven’t had people in my life who hurt me in the past. But all those times, I could leave. I could go outside, go for a walk, go on a trip… move, if I had to. But this time, I was… victimized, by someone in a way I’ve never been. And I get he’s not here anymore, but…”

“But you are. Fighting the same shadows in the same four walls he placed you in, how could you expect to move past anything?” Freddy finishes your thought.

“Yeah, exactly. Even the way Dr. Nocturne knocks on my door is the same way Sun did. It still sets me on edge every time I hear it.” Freddy tilts his head in thought at your words.

“And say Sun was the person who walked in, after the knock. Would you be afraid to see Sun again?”

“Afraid?” you pause. No, that wasn’t the right word. “I don’t think so. I just… hate him,” you say tiredly. The words fall flat even to your own ears, and Freddy quirks an eyebrow almost incredulously.

“Do you hate Sun?” Freddy asks you.

“Of course… wouldn’t you?”

“Does my opinion matter?”

“I… suppose not,” you say.

You take a moment to really assess yourself. You’re... supposed to hate someone in this case, right? How could you not? You glance at Freddy. Would you fail a psych eval if you hated Sun, or if you didn’t?

“... to be clear, I’m not here to judge you, miss. And there aren’t any wrong answers. But I want you to consider what you felt when I asked you that. Was it anger?”

…

No. You couldn’t put any energy into it at all.

“...When I think of Sun… I feel really… violated?” You wince. “Like, really hurt.” you tell him. Freddy nods. “But the truth is, hating him feels… kind of dumb. Stupid. Trivial,” you say.

“Hate puts blinders over our eyes–” Freddy says.

“—No, don’t misinterpret me here; I’m not saying some pacifistic bull like ‘hatred doesn’t get us anywhere’. I think there are for sure people I could probably hate,” you tell him. “What I mean is, it isn’t feeling hate that’s wrong. I’m saying it feels stupid to hate Sun. I'm the one who feels like a fool for it.”

“Okay, understood. How so?”

“You know him,” you reason. “Can you imagine him in a dark basement, scheming, plotting evil things?”

“...I’ll admit that I can’t,” he says.

“I can’t either, and that’s the problem. It would be easier if I could. If I could see him as a villain.” Freddy nods. Fair enough. “But the truth is, he’s not some evil mastermind. He’s goofy. He’s a big stupid fool. The goddamn fool who took everything from me. But hateful? Malicious? No. Just,” you think, “Exciteable. Impulsive. Thoughtless. Selfish.”

“Those types of people can still be dangerous,” Freddy says. “And that said, I think you’re being a bit generous with him; Sun is clever, though he may appear ‘silly’.”

You furrow your brows at that, but Freddy continues.

“My dear, I'm not telling you that hatred is or isn't justified; but let's recall what I said about color types. Do you know where Sun is now?”

“Reassigned, far away, I was told,” you say.

“Yes. And I can almost guarantee you that had his coloration been… different… he likely would not have gotten off so easily,” he explains. “And combined with his family background… society does not take him as seriously as they perhaps ought to; that doesn't mean that you shouldn't, and it doesn't mean that he isn't dangerous. Yes, he's silly, and ‘malicious’ isn't the word I would use; but he is certainly not harmless and he's smart enough to understand how others view him, and how to use that to his advantage.”

“...Can I ask, if this is something you can say because you know Sun personally?”

“I've seen it with my own eyes. He is routinely underestimated,” his eyebrows furrow as he looks at you.

Oh.

That… tracks.

“...I also did, I think. In all honesty, I spend a lot of time…” your throat starts to close, and you pause, hissing a few breaths between your teeth until it opens again. “...struggling. Trying to think how I could have done things differently— or why I let him do what he did. I could have fought harder, or insisted, or… I’m just, wondering why I just rolled over and let him destroy everything,” you grit out. “I sometimes have trouble hating him… when I hate myself so much more,” your sleeve goes back over your eyes.

Freddy's voice is soft, when he does answer you.

“I apologize, dear. I don't think that it would be good for you to hate him; But I do think, before you go feeling foolish when you try to view him as a threat — it might stand to reason that silly, funny people are still capable of terrible things; and I would say that most of them probably don't fit the ‘evil mastermind’ archetype. Rather,” he continues, “if you had fought him… he still would have gotten his way. Maybe the mask would have fallen, maybe you would have seen it and been validated. But even without that, it’s very fair to view him as a threat, and I promise you dear, the problem was never you.”

You grit your teeth as you wipe your tears. It takes a minute before you can answer.

“...I hear what you're saying. Thank you, Freddy. That makes me feel… a little less crazy, I guess,” you tell him. “When the anger comes, it’s like a rush of upset that burns through me, and then as fast as it comes… it's gone. And I’m just tired. Sad,” you pause at that.

“Not as uncommon as you might think, for someone in your position. Anger takes a lot of energy, and you’ve nowhere to direct it, either.” You nod at that.

Your mind travels back, random memories of the last few weeks emerging and submerging in the frothing sea-foam of your memory.

“It just sucks that it wasn’t all bad, either. The last day I saw him… he took me outside,” you started again. “And he pointed out and named every bird that came near us, as we walked to the lake. He stopped and had me smell every flower we passed,” you sigh. “I realize now that he only knew I'd enjoy those things because he had been spying on me while I was on earth. I really enjoyed it at the time, but knowing what I know now… the memory is all messed up. I'm sure he thought he was being thoughtful in the activity he chose; I could even see… how others could find him loveable. It's been… hard, justifying that. It's all twisted.”

Freddy's eyebrows crease in sympathy. “I can completely see why that would be the case,” he tells you. He tilts his head, and you wonder if he uses bobby pins to keep his cute little hat on. “I don’t know if Sun is evil, little one. Maybe he should slot nicely into a perfect category. Maybe he should be hated, or loved, or anything else. We will talk through it, and perhaps eventually, you will simply be able to see the Sun you knew for who he is; the good, and the bad. I think we should make that an eventual goal of our sessions,” he says.

“Sure,” you agree.

“But for now, the fact of the matter is, he isn’t here. The only Sun we have to deal with is the one in your mind. The shadow you fight in your room,” he tells you. “Perhaps that’s the Sun we have to address first.”

You deflate at that.

Notes:

MC: I don’t hate Sun–
Moon, from the balcony: WHO DON’T

Don't worry y'all, we'll get back to Moon next chapter ;-)

For those interested, I've posted a picture of the Casilk's generational naming guide! It's easier (maybe) to visualize how it works: https://imgur.com/a/d1u4GqS

Not stated, but Moon was born in the generation before Sun. His name was in the gen 6 group, and Sun’s is in the gen 1 pool of names. Freddy was simplifying how it works a little bit—but it isn’t as if Sun is young enough to be Moon’s child here. People don’t have kids at the same time, some people have aunts who are younger or older than them, etc.. But there’s probably like a 10-year age gap between Sun and Moon, and I imagine a 'generation' spans about a 20 year period. I'm not sure which planet the years (revolutions) are based off of, and I will not be taking questions on this, lol.

I hadn't really thought it through, but I think this would set the MAX lifespan for a Casilk at around 120 years if my math is right. Which is fine by me I think— I don't really get into the lifespans thing canonically because those topics make me kinda sad hah but I didn't want Casilks to be too long-lived compared to humans. For reasons ❤️‍🩹

Chapter 9: Failed Endeavors

Summary:

You and Moon finally talk. Things... shift, and neither of you can continue forward as you have been.

Notes:

*Lifts my dollhouse and shakes it*

𓁹‿𓁹 (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)

This rollercoaster car is beginning to crest over the peak —
The next few chapters are some of my favorites (≖⩊≖) (ㅅ´ ˘ `) Also this chapter and the next will both be completely Moon's POV, so enjoy! We'll regroup with MC's thoughts in chapter 11.

The trigger warnings have light spoilers; fic rating/warnings are unchanged.

Click to see trigger warnings

Somewhat aggressive behavior from everyone, someone tries to restrain someone, someone gets kicked. Some lite meanness ☹️

Moon is frowning down at you.

You’re seated at the table in your room, the day after meeting with Freddy. He stands behind you with a new bandage; soon, you wouldn’t need the bandage anymore, the inflammation nearly gone. You'd given a non-committal hum in reply when he'd told you that news.

He sighs, thinking back over the day prior.

.

.

.

---

Moon had waited to see you after your session.

You emerged from the room together with Freddy, whatever seemingly pleasant chatter spilling out with you— a small smile on your face as you looked up at the bear. But upon seeing him, your face became carefully neutral. You thanked Freddy—using his first name no less—and said you were tired, moving past him almost immediately without a word. He'd heard you enter the code to your door; it opened, closed, and then there was silence.

Moon looked to Freddy then, his eyes meeting the bear's sympathetic, if not a bit amused, gaze. He immediately scowled. Damn bear always sees too much.

Sighing, he had to ask:

“How did everything go…?”

“Better than expected,” Freddy said. “She is a bright thing. Handling all of this with surprising grace. It’s interesting to hear her thoughts on it all."

“I agree, she’s…surprised me, too.” Moon knew better than to ask about the ‘thoughts’ Freddy mentioned, even if Freddy was intentionally dangling the carrot in front of Moon’s eyes. “I never did thank you for coming all the way here; I’m sorry to have taken you from Bonnie for so long.”

“Ahh, it was good timing actually. Bonnie has gone to help the Glamrocks at The Citadel’s Merchant’s Fair. He’ll be home in a few weeks, so we won’t miss each other by much.”

“Oh, it’s already that time again?"

“Indeed. And you? How are you holding up, friend?” Freddy pivoted.

“You don’t need to psychoanalyze me.”

“You know I did review Sun’s notes,” Freddy said innocently.

“...I know you did,” Moon sighed. “I can assure you I’m fine.”

“So tell me, is this why you made humans your focus of study?”

Moon glared sharply at Freddy.

“I didn’t know at the time that my interest was hardly my own. Once I realized what it was, I left the field of interspecies relations entirely.”

“I guessed as much. What made you realize it?”

“Freddy…”

Freddy raised his hands at that. “I’m just being nosy. This isn’t a session.”

“...I would rather not get into the details, but… unlike Dr. Solair, I did see a human in person before now. And… I knew the feelings weren’t natural, the moment I felt them,” he said.

“Moon… an evolutionary predisposition is not unnatural. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“It’s easy to say that, but… I felt that I had been… compromised, somehow. I knew I’d never be able to forget the feeling, and it wasn’t pleasant, either,” he admitted.

“And this time— Is it the same? Does it make you want to run?”

“...No. Not this time. It feels different. And I don’t exactly know if that’s a good thing, for either of us. What I do know is, the more time I spend with her, the harder it gets.”

“In what way?”

A complicated expression moved over Moon’s face. “Every way. Harder to separate myself, to stay objective.” To respond rationally when she acts like a brat.

Freddy put a hand on Moon’s shoulder at that.

“You should know better than anyone, friend; we are not our impulses, instincts, or even our natures. We are our choices.”

---

.

.

.

Moon looks down at you now; you’re pulling your hair back over the bandage, as you usually do when he finishes changing it.

He’s felt a little unsettled, since yesterday. Seeing you with Freddy, and then his interactions with you… were you upset he had taken the days off? Offended?

To his credit, he’d made a valiant effort to not let it get to him. And yet—

“I thought today was your day off?” You had asked him.

It doesn’t matter. Let it go, he tells himself.

After all, it isn’t like you were giving him any trouble today… rather, you were perhaps more cooperative than before; docile for sure, but also… closed off. Subdued. You’d hardly acknowledged him at all last night – shut down completely when he tried to approach you after your session with Freddy.

And today too, you were… distant. You had greeted him politely at the door, but hadn’t said a word to him since that wasn’t in response to a direct question. You did everything he had asked of you today, with no snark or question. As a subject, this was actually ideal behavior.

…

And yet. Moon didn’t like it. It wasn’t right.

He has been struggling to maintain professionalism; he had spent his day off finishing unpacking and distracting himself, telling himself he shouldn’t pop in for a visit. And he’s frustrated; of course he enjoys spending time with you, because of course he does.

And while perhaps this… step back, that you were taking… would be a good opportunity to regain some of that professionalism with you…

He finds your behavior infuriating, your 'good manners' that put him at arm's length utterly grating on his temper.

He wants you to talk to him, even if it's angry, even if it's cutting, anything but this—

The back of your chair creaks under his grip, and he sees your head turn slightly at the sound.

Gods. I am not this desperate, he thinks.

…

…Is this all just because of his godsforsaken affinity for humans?

You’re a scientist, Moon, he tells himself. You can work it out. What specifically do you actually like about her? He blinks.

He finds your thoughts interesting. You communicate easily, and are conversationally compatible with him; it appears to come naturally. Your sense of humor also appears to be compatible—Moon reviews the times you’ve made him laugh. He thinks he would still find your antics funny even if you weren’t human. And of course, your wit. You can keep up with him—or perhaps, he can keep up with you.

But then, sometimes you could be difficult; If I wasn’t genetically predisposed, he wonders, would I be able to put up with her contrarian side without losing my temper?

…

He wasn't sure. But it didn’t change anything—at the end of it, he still finds all of you highly charming; maddeningly so.

And now…

“I’m sorry I forgot to tell you about the weekend,” he says carefully.

“There’s no need to apologize. I understand.”

“...Miss—”

“Are we finished here?” You ask.

…You were pushing him away, shutting him out and denying him your company. And somehow, after his time with you last week, it felt deeply unfair. He balls his hands at his sides, talons digging into his palms. He wants to pull your chair around, grab hold of you and make you speak to him, see him—

“We are our choices,” he hears Freddy’s words.

Freddy.

Sure, you had indicated that you wanted a professional relationship with him, but… to enforce that now, while you go and treat Freddy so warmly?

…

Fine.

If you wanted professionalism so badly… he could accommodate. He always accommodates you, doesn’t he?

He realizes… if he’s speaking professionally, he would never let another subject get away with the allowances he had made for you. And then for you to go and smile and laugh with Freddy while holding him to this standard—

…

He could certainly give you what you wanted.

“...No. We need to administer your vaccines. Dr. Brach said you declined them yesterday,” he says.

“I agreed to take meals and let him change my bandages, nothing else,” you say.

“That’s childish and you know it.” You flinch, stilling in your seat. “Today, we will finish your vaccines, and you’ll donate a saliva sample. Afterward, you will give me the rock you threatened Dr. Brach with.”

You are standing now, stepping away from the chair and turning toward him.

“...I can do all that, but the rock is—”

“I don’t want to hear it. I should not have let you keep it as long as I have. It was rather unprofessional of me.”

The look of alarm on your face seems to turn to concern.

“...Is that what this is about? …look, I’m sorry I just—”

“I don’t need an apology. I think I’ve been plenty lenient.”

“...I haven’t done anything wrong, why are you—”

“From now on, you will let Dr. Brach do his job and not cause him trouble. I don’t want to hear any complaints from him; I can’t always be here to babysit you, so I need to know that you will—”

“‘Babysit’? What is wrong with you—”

“Enough,” he grinds out. You flinch again.

Moon moves the tray of syringes over and pats the back of the seat, once.

“Sit.”

“No,” you hiss. “I think you should leave." His gaze moves over your face, and he catches the shock in your eyes; but also, the anger in the set of your jaw as you stare him down. His own anger spikes to match yours.

Was this not what you wanted?

His gaze narrows as he steps around the chair and approaches you.

“No— no. Back off. No—” He reaches for your arm, and you slap his talons away. Surprised, he watches you scramble backward, but there’s nowhere to go. Climbing onto your bed, you stand on it, up against the wall.

“Come down here, now—” when he reaches across the bed for you, you kick out, striking him with your heel. He takes it in the chest and is pushed backward into the table— the hit surprisingly powerful.

“Get away from me,” you very nearly yell.

Your voice is a shock through his system; his canines and the gums above them are bared, the violent move causing his feathers to stand. An instinctual response to aggression that is out of his control, and with the way you’re looking at him, one that isn’t helping. At first, he feels appalled—your reaction seemingly over-the-top; but then—

Your pupils are dark, observing him like one might a predator.

You’re the only one that sees her as an equal, a voice in Moon’s head breaks through the anger. The realization gives him pause.

In all of his upset, he hadn't considered... this wasn’t actually a fair fight for you, trapped as you were in this place. No; Whatever power you had that affected him—regardless of how it felt to him—was in actuality nothing compared to what he had over you. And clearly, he’s realized that too late— and pushed you too far.

Frustrated, he tries speaking to you again.

“Human— I’m only trying to do what you -”

“You’ve made your point, Casilk,” you grit out, and he realizes his mistake— but again, too late; the dam breaks, and your eyes spill over.

“I’m— I’m dealing with all of this the best I can, doing everything I can to be okay, and god dammit, if… if you really wanted something, I would have given it to you.” your words are broken by gasps. “I would have just given it to you,” you repeat. Moon wants to sink into the floor.

“You— you and I both know I don’t have any real control over anything here, and I know I said I liked that you weren’t my friend… but you gave me that control, and you were. But I know you’re just my handler even though you didn’t want to be, and I have to figure out a way to protect myself from disappointment because I don’t have anyone else, and you—” your airway closes with a hiss.

Moon is trying to follow everything you’re saying; there’s a lot, and it occurs to him that you must have been considering all of this quite a bit. Gods know you’ve had the time to.

You ignore the tears as they run down your face, not taking your eyes off of Moon. Your labored breaths turn into quaking sobs and yet you still stand your ground before him; unable to speak anymore, but unwilling to move from your position. Your fists are clenched, the mattress shivering as your body shakes — in anger or fear, he is uncertain.

You observe him closely through watery eyes, and he calms himself before you. His feathers are already laying back down, his lips lowering back over his canines.

He… had been correct; you were upset about the time off, but not for the reasons he had thought. You may have asked that he not treat you like a friend in the context of how Dr. Solair treated you… but Moon was socially adept enough to know that things hadn’t been strictly professional from there, and everything was still going well. You hadn’t pulled away, no matter how friendly the interactions became.

He shouldn’t have overthought it; he’d made himself take the weekend after you had just begun to warm up to him, leaving you alone to feel like you were just some…

“—I have to figure out a way to protect myself from disappointment because I don’t have anyone else—”

…

What an ass I’ve been.

You… had tried to find a solution all by yourself, one that would hurt you least; and it hadn't even really been about him, as upset as it had made him.

No— you'd done what you could for yourself, as you had been since you got here, and he’d let his temper get the better of him without considering your feelings.

...

He observes you as you appear to be tiring out. Your tears have stopped, and you’re waiting quietly for his next move - a fist in front of your chest.

This time, Moon approaches slowly; you tense, and he says your name. Even standing on the bed, he is taller - and you peer up at him, your eyes tired as you release a shuddering breath. He’s within kicking distance now, but you don’t kick him.

He reaches out, carefully, slowly, this time toward the hand you have gripped tightly over your chest.

“Please. Let me help you down,” he says. His clawed thumb slides against your fingers, and you open them briefly to grip onto it. Wrapping his other fingers around the back of your hand, he gently tugs you away from the wall.

You step off the bed gingerly, accepting his support. He can feel you shaking.

He lifts your blanket from the bed with his other hand, bringing it around your shoulders - and you tug it closed with the hand not holding his. He gently pushes you into a seated position on the edge of the bed.

From there, he kneels, closing both his hands over your own.

Once again, he says your name. “I’m sorry,” he breathes. He’s at eye level with you, his brows furrowed. He feels as if he could cry himself. “I’m so sorry, little star. I…” He knows he can’t stop it, now. The regret, the affection; if he was going to burn it all down anyway, he’d rather be honest. “I didn’t understand why you had changed, but I still shouldn’t have acted that way… it wasn’t fair.”

His gaze flits between your eyes, trying to find something, anything. He finds confusion, exhaustion. Resignation.

He doesn’t want this.

When you don't speak, he continues. “I know that hasn’t been our arrangement, and I hadn’t considered how leaving you alone would make you feel –”

“It’s fine, your weekend has nothing to do with –”

“No. I… didn’t want you to feel smothered, with what you already went through with Solair. But I’m just down the hall. Please understand, there is no one here I’d rather spend my time with,” he tells you honestly. No one anywhere.

And there’s so much more he could say; he’s truly a jealous, petty fool. And for him to behave like that, in his position over you… he’s ashamed. The vulnerability he was showing now was uncomfortable, far past professional; but if he doesn’t say his feelings clearly, you may misunderstand… and, he fears, you may never open back up to him.

Please talk to me.

Your gaze is cast down to your hand, encased between his taloned fingers as you consider him. He feels you grip his thumb a bit tighter, and eventually, you respond.

“I know what I said, about not being friends…” your words are small, as if it's taking all your courage just to say them. His attention is on you, and your eyes are filling again even as your gaze is locked on their entwined hands. He grasps just a bit tighter, as if he could stop the shake there. “...but you’re all I have, Moon,” you say finally.

The world seems to pause as your words register with him, his pupils expanding as he takes you in.

His first name— he inhales sharply. How did you—

And something is cracking, spreading, streaking through his system— breaking him through at the middle and filling it with something else. And then, it all snaps into place - something old and wild and beyond thought and reason. And you’re here, looking at him with so much emotion.

You needed him.

He brings his forehead down to where your hand is in his, and he lets his own tears fall. But in short order, you’re tugging your hand away, and he lets you go, as much as he wants to hang on.

The emptiness is immediate, but then –

You're touching his shoulder, pushing him back gently, and lowering yourself onto the floor in front of him. Your other hand reaches to brush the feathers on his head, and he blinks back at you, stunned as he feels your hands on him for the first time... and then you’re pulling him softly into your shoulder. His eyes are wide.

You—

“I forgive you,” you say quietly. And then, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would hurt like that.”

He closes his eyes, his forehead between your shoulder and neck; he is careful not to put too much weight on you, and he doesn’t wrap his arms around you, placing them on the bed on either side of you instead.

“I get it,” he tells you gently. It doesn't feel like enough.

You hum, and your hands continue to run down the feathers on his head.

“...soft,” you say quietly, your fingers moving deeper into his plumage. Moon could say the same about you. He’s never been so close to you before - and you’re soft and warm, and smell nice; he revels in the feelings you make bloom in his chest. His hands clench into the bedding, but he endeavors to enjoy the moment without grabbing on to you - letting you make the choice to touch him, instead.

You were granting him more mercy than he feels he deserves.

.

.

.

Eventually, he moves away, his hand catching yours again. He can’t seem to meet your eyes, and he doesn’t know what to say. He can’t exactly explain what happened; he didn't want to scare you away. But then, you hadn’t asked him to—pulling him in without a word. Comforting him.

He knows now - there is no way out for him; no way out from you.

And... he's okay with that.

You move to your feet, his hand still in yours. “...We should probably get the vaccines out of the way. I’m not a huge fan of needles, and I’m pretty sure I’ll lose my nerve if you have to bring them in a third time,” you say. Moon blinks, looking up at you finally. There’s a small smile on your face.

“I might even do more than kick you,” you add quietly, tugging on his hand to coax him up.

And just like that –

Moon is laughing, and the tension has dissipated. You’re smiling with him, your face ruddy from crying.

How very you, to joke at a time like this, he thinks - though he's aware it's probably for his own benefit.

"Understood," he says, standing at last.

You seat yourself once more on the bed, and he pulls the table forward as you roll your sleeve up. Moon sits beside you and begins to disinfect your skin.

“Big inhale,” he says. You do so, and hold for a moment. Your eyes are turned away. “Breathe out.” You do, and he pushes the needle in. Once the liquid is gone, Moon covers the wound. He’s assessing your face, and you appear calm. “Two more,” he tells you.

Once you are bandaged up, he pushes the tray away and moves to stand.

“You may have some cold symptoms tomorrow. They will pass. I will come check on you later tonight as well,” he assures you. As he moves away, he feels you tug his sleeve.

Turning, you’re fishing your hand down between your mattress and the bed frame. He watches curiously as you pull your hand back, an item clutched in your palm.

“Here,” you say. “This… is the ‘rock’.” You hold it out to him, unfurling your fingers. But what is revealed is absolutely not a rock.

Of all things, a destiny stone sits in your palm; its size alone is astonishing.

The shock must show on Moon’s face, because you suddenly become self-conscious.

“What is it?” you ask then. “Is…something wrong with it?”

“Where…did you get that?” he almost hisses.

But Moon already knows. Not something someone could afford on a scientist’s salary, no — this was someone from a family of wealth, from true affluence. Even a tiny one to fit in a ring or necklace is worth… enough to purchase a decent vehicle.

“It— it was a gift. I didn’t steal it,” you tell him adamantly. His narrowed gaze moves from it to your eyes, softening.

“I know you didn’t. Sun gave this to you, didn’t he?” He uses the doctor’s first name, all formality out the window.

Your eyes move away from him at that, but you nod.

“I guess I should be more surprised you kept it,” he adds.

He’s asking a question without asking it, and you seem to be mulling it over. You turn the stone in your hands, observing the color shift, the light reflecting off of the metallic green flakes within the opalescent blue.

“Well,” you start, “Aside from the clothes I came here with… this is the first thing I was given that I was told was mine,” you explain. Moon winces. “Not to mention… doesn’t it kind of look like Earth?” You ask, holding the stone up between two fingers. Moon observes it as you turn it this way and that, letting it catch the light.

“I see your point,” he sighs. You hold it out to him then. He looks at the stone, then back to your face.

“Didn’t you need to take it…?” you ask. Slowly, Moon reaches out, pulling the stone from your palm. He holds it up himself.

“Are you aware… of the meaning behind this stone?” He asks, and sees you frown.

“Sun said… it’s given to a person who has changed your life."

“A lover, usually,” Moons corrects bluntly, observing the stone. “Or else, someone you have those intentions toward.” He glances back toward you, and you're grimacing at it yourself.

“Sun was… a little obsessive, but I don’t think he saw me like that,” you eke out.

Moons brows curve in sympathy. “I’m very sorry to be the one to tell you that,” he admits. And it's true.

“I’m sure that’s not the case. He only knew me for a few weeks,” you insist. “And, I’m the first he ever met from the species that is—was—his life’s work. Maybe he just thought our meeting was that important,” you reason. You glance up at him, as if looking for reassurance on the matter.

Oh, sweet star, we can pretend.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he concedes. Then, he looks back to the stone. But what to do with it? He wants to throw it away; but it was yours - one of the few things you had. And it was valuable.

He glances back at you; he really, really doesn’t want to tell you — but just in case…

Reaching out, he offers the stone back. You lift your hands, and he places it in your palms once more.

“You should hold onto that,” he tells you reluctantly. “It's… worth a lot. And if something ever happens - if you ever end up on your own somehow - you can use that,” he nods down at your hands.

“How much is it worth?” You ask.

“Hmm.. lets see,” he crouches again, eyes running over the stone critically. With his history, he had some considerable knowledge in assessing value. He covers up two-thirds of the stone with his talons. “With this much, you could probably get yourself your own vehicle; or with all of it… a home in a decent area of the city.” He watches at close range, your eyes widen in shock.

“....why,” you gasp. “Why would he give me something like this…?”

“Why indeed. But no matter now - there is no sense in letting it go to waste once you get to the outside world.” The edge of his mouth lifts at the thought.

It’s the least Sun could do.

You huff. “No, seriously! You don’t understand, I almost flushed the thing!”

Moon throws his head back and laughs. The outrage on your face only makes it funnier. Your own mouth eventually betrays you, breaking into a smile as you join in - small chuckles becoming true, full-body laughter, devolving into gasping. Several attempts to stop fail as you try to compose yourselves, only to fall back into another fit. He watches your smiling face through creased eyes, feeling infinitely better than he had upon entering the room.

.

.

.

Much later, Moon would deactivate the hydraulics on your door so he could slide it partially open without disturbing you. You had long since fallen asleep — Moon had been with you until your eyes grew heavy, the strong emotions and no doubt the vaccinations doing a number on you.

Moon had pulled the covers over you himself, reminding you that he would be back later to check on you. You'd given a hum, your eyes already closed.

Now, you were just where he’d left you; sleeping peacefully. He could see you clearly in the dark with his vision, your chest rising and falling, and he wondered if you would be able to see him even a little bit.

His thoughts again traveled; in his mind’s eye, he could see fields of dark red grass and shadowy mountains in the distance. You stood in the tall reeds, admiring the twilight sky and dueling moons, the soft orange light bouncing off your skin and hair.

He wonders if you could be happy there, living without a bright sun he knows humans are used to.

Sliding the door closed, it was time for Moon to do some research.

Notes:

MC: ...
Moon: No stop that
MC: ...
Moon: Please talk to me
MC: ...
Moon: Ok you know what -
MC: 🥺
Moon: I'm so sorry ily
---
Moon: "The more time I spend with her, the harder it gets"
Freddy: The harder what gets? 🙂
Moon: ...
Freddy: ...The harder what gets, Moon? 😶

Oh my sweet sweet characters, please communicate, we love to see it 🥹 I legit can't make a 'miscommunication' scenario go on for long, these two really can't stand to see each other sad. That isn't to say the dynamic is completely right and healthy; Moon would follow her anywhere, and MC... doesn't have anyone but Moon, which isn't great. But they're doing their best.

Just gonna say this here - the person MOST excited for the next chapter... is me 😌

Please let me know your thoughts, feed the author a snack by leaving a comment 🥰

Final update on my dumb cat drama - It looks like I don't have to move, I went and viewed an (admittedly amazing) apartment last weekend and was totally set to put a deposit in, and I let my roommate know that I have decided to keep the cat so I'm gonna get outta his hair... and well, he very strongly asked me to stay, using "please" and everything 🫠. Said I could keep the cat and do whatever I want, so here we are. I'm relieved, but I did apologize to him anyway. I'm a little sad about the lovely apartment but... I'm happy I can still contribute to my savings, lol. And Gemmi has gained a pound! I can almost not feel her spine 🥹 I learned that hyperthyroidism can be treated with a radioactive iodine shot which cures 95% of cases completely, but... it would cost $1800ish 🙃 so we're doing the twice-a-day meds which slow down her thyroid, and only costs $14 per month 🥴 Maybe I can save up for the iodine shot. Someday.

Chapter 10: The Train in the Ocean

Summary:

You have a nightmare. Freddy challenges Moon's perspective, sharing his own thoughts on the situation.

Notes:

Hello hello!

This chapter is what inspired the name of this story!
I also just... love this chapter so much ( ꈍ◡ꈍ)

No warnings here; the plot is moving forward slowly.

I also wanted to say a few words for Mitsu_Mikazuki, whose cat, Hibiki, passed away this last Monday. I am sure he’s basking in the eternal garden, with sun on his fur. This chapter is full of softness, perfect for a small dedication; May we hold others with kind hands, and when we fall short of strength, may there always be kind hands to hold us in turn.

Moon had checked on you once more through the night; now, he stands before your door again - this time in late morning, your preferred time for ‘first visit’. He holds a cup of water with a straw in his hand, and a bag on the same elbow.

He lifts his other hand to knock on the door - but hesitates. Freddy had told him… that you mentioned that he knocked the same way Sun did.

Well. Freddy had implied. For confidentiality reasons.

“For no reason, how would you knock on someone’s door when you visit?” He had asked. Moon had caught on that he was asking about you, and imagined your door. He lifted his hand and knocked on the closest wall the same way he might’ve at your room. “I see. As far as knocks go, that one is unpopular and you should change it.”

Moon had spent a bit of time after that coming up with a distinct knock - five raps, two quick followed by three longer ones. A pattern you could associate with him, only.

Moon gives you some time to answer, but doesn't hear your voice. He waits for a few moments, knocking again, before opening the door.

He can see you were still in bed – but something was off. The sheets are a mess, no limbs clearly present. Approaching, he pulls the covers from the pillow –

Little feet. Cute.

He covers those back up, and moves down the bed. Now that he’s closer he can see your hair poking out from under the blankets - though apparently, on the wrong end of the bed. He pulls down the covers, and –

Your eyes are open –

Moon nearly yells in surprise, stepping back. Your arms come up lazily to tug the covers back from him, and you wiggle back down into them somewhat. He can see the top of your head and your eyes now, but nothing below.

“Moonie,” you say sleepily.

…Oh.

He blinks, coming closer. Your hair sticks to your forehead, and your eyes are watery and red, glazed with fever. They look up at him sadly.

“That can’t be comfortable,” he says. He moves again to your feet, pulling the pillow out from under them and flipping it over. “Can I lift your head?” You nod, and he puts a hand under your neck, his hand tangling in the hair there – and lifts just enough to maneuver the pillow underneath. “That’s better,” he says, placing his other hand on your forehead. “You are running a temperature,” he tells you. You simply blink back at him.

“I had a bad dream,” you whisper.

“Yeah? I’m sorry,” he pulls up a chair up to your bedside, setting his bag on the seat so he can go through it. He seats himself on the edge of your bed.

“I was in a train car, sinking into the ocean,” you tell him. He hums, removing the temperature reader from the bag. “There were a lot of other people inside. Humans,” you clarify. “I think,” you correct.

Moon holds the reader to your forehead. The temperature is higher than he is expecting, and he frowns.

“As we sank, people kept trying to swim out, to get to the surface,” you continue, your voice wobbling.

Moon moves to take the ice pack out, pulling a towel out as well.

“But we were too deep already. We had taken too long to decide,” your eyes fill with tears. “And they couldn’t make it to the surface. Some of them… started swimming the wrong way.”

Moon's eyes move back to your face in concern. His fingers are getting twitchy, but he tells his instincts to hush.

She’s not in any real danger.

“Shh, you’re okay,” Moon says, placing the ice pack on your head, over the towel. “You’re not in a train car under the water.”

“It felt really real,” you mumble into the blanket. You blink at him, and a few tears overflow to run behind your ears. “Moonie, if I said ‘they got the bends’, would you be able to understand the translation?”

Moon smiles despite himself. You were being so –

“I can understand you’re using some kind of colloquial term for decompression sickness, I think?” He says, before continuing. “The translator is clever. It isn’t just translating words, but your meanings as you say them, right from your mind. It reads the proximity of my own translator and they speak to each other directly, rather than relying on our ears,” he tells you.

“That’s amazing,” you whisper. Moon’s gaze softens. He thinks you’d normally divert your eyes at this point, but you appear to be pretty out of it, your own glazed eyes meeting his without reservation. Perhaps you weren’t seeing him at all.

“The further we sank, the more everyone panicked; at that point, trying to get out meant we’d most likely die…but staying, and it was certain,” you tell him. “But one by one, they all left me behind.”

His brows are creased in concern now. One of your arms snakes out, grabbing the edge of his coat. He reaches down and takes your hand.

“I watched them all spin and spin in the water. It was too dark to know which way was up or down. And I knew I’d never –” your voice cuts off with a small squeak, and you take a moment. “...I’d never make it to the surface, even if I tried— so I didn’t,” you whisper the last few words.

“Hey, you’re here with me. That isn't a decision you have to make,” he assures you.

“I know. I know. But… what does that say about me? I was the only one left, and I didn’t even try and get out,” you say. He pauses at that, considering your words.

“Well, how come?”

Your eyes do shift away then, and you squint, as if trying to recall the reason.

“I think… I had already made up my mind. If the way home wasn’t guaranteed… then…” your voice becomes a whisper once more; “I would just have to see what the bottom of the ocean was like,” you tell him.

Moon hums. He's moved both hands onto yours, and he rubs your hand with his thumbs reassuringly.

“There’s nothing wrong with that answer,” he reassures you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think you made the right choice.”

And if you were stuck, I would tell you to sit tight, and I would come find you myself.

He can’t see your mouth, but your eyes crease in a smile at him from beneath the blanket. He enjoys the bubbling feeling in his chest for just a moment. “Are you able to sit up for a second? I’d like you to drink some water, and take a fever reducer.”

“Okay,” you say, beginning to wiggle onto your elbows.

“Can I help you?” He asks, leaning in to support you. He removes the ice pack before it can fall, setting it next to you.

“Okay,” you repeat, peering at him. He supports your back and lifts you into a seated position, placing a cup with a metal straw in your hands. As you observe the water, you sway slightly, blinking down at it with lidded eyes. Moon pulls the wrapped capsule from the bag, putting a glove on his hand and punching the pill out of it's container. His eyes move back to you, observing your unsteady form as you grip the cup with both hands.

“...Open your mouth?” he asks, holding the pill up. He thinks you'd normally refuse, insisting on taking the pill yourself -

“Ahh,” you say instead. His face heats, almost to match your own in temperature.

Moon places the pill on your little pink tongue, catching a flash of your small, flat teeth in the process. You drink it down, sighing at the cool water.

“Try and finish the water, if you are able to,” he tells you. You nurse your water for some time, before eventually turning your eyes back to Moon.

“Are there trains in space?” You ask suddenly. He blinks, the edges of his mouth lifting in amusement. There wouldn’t be in space, but he knows what you mean.

“Yes, most of the civilized planets have… something akin to trains,” he tells you.

“And oceans?” You ask. He frowns, wondering if you’re thinking of your dream.

“Those too.”

“Does every planet… have birds?” That one has him tilting his head.

“Every planet I’ve ever been to,” he tells you in amusement. You lean in then – and he startles a bit as you observe him closer.

“You have feathers," you observe, and he resists fidgeting as your eyes move over him. "Did you used to fly…?”

“I… I don’t think so,” he stammers. “Gliding, I think.” You study him for a few moments more before leaning back, your eyes moving from his feathers to meet his own.

“They’re pretty,” you tell him. “Shiny. It would have been beautiful to see.” You gaze at him happily, eyes lidded and cheeks flushed with fever. You wear a silly little smile on your face as you hold your empty cup out for him to take, and he reaches up reflexively. Scaled fingers brush against your own small warm ones.

He can’t remember the last time he was so flustered.

You lay back down then, wiggling yourself into your backward setup, and even replace the ice pack on your head yourself. “Thanks Moonie,” you whisper.

He very nearly stumbles on his way out of your room after that, clutching his bag and your cup.

What am I, an adolescent? He huffs, high-tailing it away from your door.

For now, he would head to the lab and take a look at your saliva from the straw you used. He glances down at the cup –

The straw is gone.

“...”

Moon turns toward Freddy’s room instead.

 

---

 

“I don’t typically do dream interpretations in my practice,” Freddy says. “But that one is pretty interesting.” Moon runs a hand over the feathers on his head. In his other he holds a glass of amber liquid – ‘sap wine’, apparently; it was a drink given to Freddy by a “strange, four-eyed man camping on a moon, of all places,” he’d said.

Freddy continues speaking;

“A sinking train car… trapped and unable to escape, your hope of ever seeing home depleting to nothing… regret at your own inaction, isolation, darkness, and then… acceptance. A resignation to see it through, to see the place you will inevitably die,” Freddy muses. “How poetic.”

Moon levels his gaze on the bear, unimpressed.

“Or! Her body is just overheated and weighed down by fever, and her dream is manifesting those feelings,” Freddy says, holding his hands up in surrender. “Are you coming to me as her doctor, or as someone who cares about her?”

“I think that ship has sailed,” he sighs.

He had told Freddy what happened only the day before.

“Do you suppose she... reciprocates?” Freddy asks, and Moon winces.

“You don’t have to put it like that. I don't expect anything from her - though clearly, I'd like us to be on good terms, for my own sanity," Moon starts. "She's got a lot on her plate right now, and even outside of that we haven't known each other for very long. I don’t anticipate much will change even after this... though, she has called me by my first name – a few times now. And… she told me that I’m ‘all she has’.” As warm as that had made him feel in the moment, he recognizes how sad those words actually are, now.

“Ah. Probably for the best. What else can she say? She doesn’t have any other options, and she needs you, plain and simple,” Freddy says gently.

“I know that. I will be there for her regardless,” Moon says. “By the way, how does she know my first name?”

“She heard me call you by it before her session. Does it bother you?” and Freddy observes Moon’s face slowly take on a violet hue; he apparently takes that as his answer. “Well, then I guess there’s no problem there. It might be strange to go back to formalities after that blowout, anyway.”

“Perhaps. We’ll see where we’re at when she wakes up.” He doesn’t mention the nickname you gave him in your fever-induced state. Or how you had complimented his feathers. Or… that you probably used that as a distraction to steal the straw.

“2.2. Subject demonstrates emotionally manipulative behavior that is nonetheless highly effective.”

…To his credit, Dr. Solair had warned about it as well, Moon recalls. You had used a similar tactic to sneak a spoon into his pocket, and he should have learned his lesson then.

“Also, Freddy,” he begins. “I… between you and me, I was thinking to not report the destiny stone Dr. Solair gave her,” he says. “Dr. Solair also didn’t report it.”

“That may have been because he was detained and reassigned before he could.”

“And that very well may be; regardless, when she leaves this place, I want her to have the best possible chance out there.”

“You’re worried they’ll factor it's value into her stipend,” Freddy guesses. Moon frowns.

“I’m sorry, I know this might put you in a difficult position,” Moon admits. But Freddy merely shakes his head, picking up his clipboard.

“Unfortunately, as I’m now considering this an official counseling session, I couldn’t disclose what’s being said here if I wanted to.” Moon blinks, then nods, grateful to the bear.

I’m fortunate to know Freddy, he thinks.

“And now that it’s a session, I get to ask all the questions I want,” Freddy adds, a glint in his eye.

…I take it back.

Freddy continues. “With how well you’re getting on, don’t you think she’d be more comfortable staying closer to you? You could bring her to the Gloaming Galaxy with you,” Freddy suggests. Moon feels his heart stutter in his chest.

“...You say that so easily. But I am trying to stay unbiased here, Freddy. I haven’t done enough research to know if that’s even a feasible match, not to mention the preferences of the human in question,” he says. And he doesn't say it aloud, but something about asking a bright creature like you to live in the shadows he resides in gives him pause.

“Ah, so you have given it some thought, then,” Freddy says. Moon detects a hint of smugness from the bear, and he scowls.

“...I’ve already decided I’m not going to lead her decision in any way. I don't want to pressure her.”

Freddy’s brows crease in sympathy. “My apologies, friend. I know you’re trying to be objective on this. But here’s the thing,” His eyes drift off then, as if seeing something that wasn’t there. “If it were my child… and they were spirited away to a vast, dangerous world where I could not follow…”

Moon lifts his head to look at Freddy, the old bear’s face marred with sorrow.

“If it were my child – I would pray to the stars, to the moons, to anything – that they might be found by someone like you.”

Freddy meets his eyes then, holding such emotion that Moon is left breathless.

“Someone who cares for them inherently; who would worry for them, wipe their tears, listen to their nightmares, consider their future. It is more than anyone who ever loved that girl could ask for, that you are here for her now.”

“Freddy…”

“I know you feel guilty for your feelings, Moon. But don’t get too caught up in your own shame. Sun could only think about how having her around made him feel; you use your feelings instead to try and help her. There is a difference, friend. She sees that, too.”

Moon observes the amber liquid in his glass. He hadn’t thought of it that way before.

“...Why does it feel like you always have all the answers,” Moon asks, glancing up at him again.

“I’ve been alive for a long time,” Freddy admits. "And I'm usually right, too, though Bonnie may disagree," he chuckles. Moon rolls his eyes, but he's relieved the heaviness has passed.

“Alright then, all-knowing bear... I wonder if I could get some more advice from you, then.”

“Perhaps,” Freddy hedges.

“She said… the stone was the ‘only thing that’s hers’ that she’s received since she arrived here,” Moon explains.

“I imagine she’ll be able to own plenty of things upon its sale.”

“Right… it won’t always be a problem. I do know that.”

“But, you want to give her something,” Freddy guesses. Moon breaks eye contact, and Freddy is quick to call him back. “Ah-ah, none of that, now. ‘That ship has sailed,’ remember? We both know you want to do nice things for her, that you care about her. Lets just start with that as the baseline; I won’t even tease you for it. So let's skip the shame and choose where we go with it,” he says, before pausing.

There’s a long moment where he seems to be considering Moon, before sighing. “Moon, my words before… I didn’t mean to make you feel you have to take all the responsibility for her well-being on your own shoulders; you deserve to have support yourself, and to have someone to talk to about this… unprecedented situation,” Freddy says. And then a note of sarcasm enters alongside the sincerity. “I will gladly take on that burden,” he says, a hand on his chest. Moon scoffs, but he nods.

“And if I feel that you’re enjoying it a bit too much?”

“I expect you to turn a blind eye, provided my advice is still good.”

“I can agree to those terms.”

“Good. Then where were we – ah, something for her,” he says.

“Maybe… new clothes? Things that aren't from the facility…”

“Do you know her sizes? Her preferences?” Moon frowns. “Best to take her shopping, then, if you want to go that route.”

“Not an option,” Moon dismisses. “I’d rather get her something she could use; the stone will be valuable someday, but it's just a trinket to her now; and I doubt Dr. Solair got it for her with the sale of it in mind.”

“Knowing Sun, I’m inclined to agree,” Freddy nods. Moon blinks, registering the bear's words.

“You… have met Dr. Solair?” he asks, and now it's Freddy's turn to blink in surprise.

“I thought you were aware,” Freddy starts, “Sun contacted me before you did about this human. I’ve known him since he was just a hatchling. He traveled with me and the rest of the Glamrock gang back in the day,” he recalls. “He was pretty good at sales, too.”

Moon feels gobsmacked.

“He told me that he used to travel with a group of merchants as a child.”

Your words float back into his mind, and it's like he’s seeing the man before him in a new light.

“Freddy, in your opinion…” Freddy raises an eyebrow. “From what you know of Dr. Solair; how hard do you think he’d try to get back to her?”

Freddy looks almost sad for a moment before answering.

“I didn’t want to scare your human… but, while Sun is funny, loud and friendly, he is also resourceful and driven. He did stage an entire kidnapping by hacking a drone, and he nearly got away with everything. He is exactly the child I remember; well-bred, clever, but deeply spoiled. A combination that means that if screaming and crying doesn’t get the results he wants… he will figure out another way; a quieter way. And it's usually worse for everyone involved.”

Moon feels his stomach turn.

But Freddy continues. “...of course, between the two of us, only you know what it feels like to actually have the genetic predisposition, and you also are more familiar with the human. Perhaps there’s a chance that Sun did all of that in order to kidnap the human he wanted, only to want her less after meeting her?”

“...”

…Moon gets the sudden, irrational feeling that their facility might have been razed to the ground by now, had you not still been inside of it.

Notes:

That last line - after writing this and re-reading, it makes me wonder if Moon isn't projecting a little 😌 Am I the author? Yes. Do I know for certain? Who knows

MC very sweetly dunking on Moon even while her mind is fried to hell is honestly such a flex haha 😂

Sap wine, and the 'four-eyed man camping on moon', are both references to Outer Wilds! Anyone catch that?

The dream of the sinking train car is one I really had 🥲 I wasn't sick, but I do remember waking up and feeling that it wouldn't be out of place as a fever dream. Even the resignation of 'I guess I'll just see what the ocean floor looks like', those feelings clung with me even after waking up. Dreams are weird like that sometimes 🫠

Anyway! Please please let me know what you think, thoughts, feelings, predictions? Long comment, short comment, weird comment - I'm weirder, probably! I love and appreciate them all like gems in my dragon hoard, and they really do help me gauge if I'm doing a good job😆 Leave the author a snack to let me know how we're feeling on things... this is actually my first fanfic in a decade, and its wild how this story has crept into so many areas of my life, and also all the weird life experiences I've had that have influenced different parts of this book. I'm even looking into my local Audubon society, after a conversation with Crafty_Little_Crow last week! Couldn't hurt right, why not?

More and more I realize, at least for myself... writing well involves drawing from a whole lot of life experiences, and real, actual social interactions. I could never be the 'shut-in' writer in a cabin in the woods... I must fill my cup before I can pour from it, and even then, I still worry that my characters don't always sound or react realistically. Still, if there's one thing I could say to others, if they're anything like myself... go live a fruitful life, and fill it with as much wacky shit as you can - and a lotta normal shit, too. Not just for the writing, either; you never know where having those experiences might aid you :)

Chapter 11: Gifts & Gossip

Summary:

Moon finds the perfect gift, and he shares some gossip with you. Sun gets a phone call.

Notes:

Hey hey!

This chapter is (almost) all Moon and MC centric ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ Please enjoy!

A trigger warning for the very end of this chapter;

Click to see trigger warnings

Warning for (completely imagined, non-canon) open-ended imagery implying assault, in the last paragraph of the chapter. Nothing explicit or graphic.

Moon returns to your room with lunch, the first of your two meals. He is… a little excited. He had found the perfect item to give to you, after some discussion with Freddy.

Moon gave his knock, and this time, heard your voice on the other side. Entering, he finds you sitting up against the wall behind your bed, your arms crossed over your knees. Your thawed ice pack and towel sit on the table.

“Good to see you awake,” he says warmly, and you tilt your head as if confused, but you smile.

“It was a rough night I think. I woke up on the wrong side of the bed – literally,” you tell him. “Breakfast today…?” You question.

“Oh, no it’s lunch time,” he tells you.

“I see. Did I sleep through a visit?” Your eyes move to the ice pack.

“You don’t remember?” Your smile falters, and you take a moment to think.

“...No, did I…” and you blink, hesitating. Your eyes move back to the ice pack once more, and Moon can see the wheels turning in your mind. Your eyes widen. “...Oh.”

Your face instantly heats.

“...Oh my god,” you cover your mouth. Apparently, at least some of it had come back to you.

Moon grins, observing your expression move through various stages of mortification. “Yes, I’d say you were awake.” You look at the humor in his eyes and grimace.

“I… that’s so…” embarrassing.

“You said all kinds of things, do you remember?”

“No, and I don’t want to know –”

“You were very upset over a nightmare,”

“...Dr. No–”

“Came up with your own nickname for me –”

“DOCTOR –”

“You even called me beautif–”

And you lunge, your hands reaching for his face. His words are cut off by his own laughter as he catches your wrists before your fingers can make contact.

“Stop. TALKING.”

And he cackles as you struggle to cover his mouth; he thinks there will be steam pouring from your ears pretty soon at this rate.

“Y-you–” his words are broken by his laughter, “—you’re sure you don’t want to hear more? It was rather endearing.”

“Absolutely not,” you hiss, “and if you were merciful, you’d forget about it,” you add, and he hums in non-committal acknowledgement as he observes you through creased eyes. At this distance, your own are bright and clear as you make your demands (undermined somewhat by your clear embarrassment) and he’s pleased to see the healthy color in your skin. Your wrists are warm, but not overly so.

“Unfortunately, forgetting is a big ask. But I’ll spare you the details,” he promises, moving a hand to your forehead. There’s no fever that he can feel.

“...All good, doc?” You ask, and you’re raising a brow at him from under his hand. He blinks, realizing his position with your wrists still held loosely in his other. He lets you go.

“All good I think, how do you feel?” He asks as you pull away, moving to your bed.

“I’m fine, but I was wondering about something –” and you pull a metal straw out from under your pillow. “What’s this doing here?”

Moon, again, can only laugh. He takes the straw from you, its usefulness expired, unfortunately. “I had intended to help you find a job when you leave here, but I’m beginning to think pickpocketing might be more your speed,” he teases. You glance back at the straw then, connecting the dots on what must have happened; your mouth lifts in a smile.

“I mean, sounds like you were japed by a delirious person,” you start, and he narrows his eyes at where this is going. “So… does that mean I’m just that good, or could it be that you make it too easy?”

“... I feel that you’re leading me into a trap of some kind, so I’ll abstain from either answer.” And then it's your turn to laugh.

“I’m surprised you let me keep it, though,” you comment. You move to the table where your meal waits.

“Well, as is usually the case with you, I didn’t realize it was even missing until I was already in the hallway,” he admits. You appear to beam at this news.

“I won’t apologize,” you say, utterly smug.

“Of course you won’t,” he chuckles.

You lift the metal cloche covering the food, and he observes your reaction for approval; he thinks he’s gotten pretty good at figuring out your preferences, and he logs it as a win when he sees your expression brighten, promptly seating yourself.

“After your meal, I have something I’d like to give you,” he says.

“Oh?”

“Eat first,” he insists, nerves starting to get the better of him.

You raise a brow at him, but don’t press.

---

Your POV

As soon as you finish, he moves your tray to the other side of the table, and sets a box in front of you. You peer up at Moon’s face, but it looks wholly neutral except for the slight crease of his eyes.

He’s in a good mood today, you think.

You wondered how things would be after yesterday’s… frankly bizarre turn of events. He had been so sharp with you, and then he had broken down, and then today…

In truth, you think you did understand; Moon appeared to have been making an honest attempt at being unbiased with you, even taking his days off; it was unfortunate that the two of you had such easy chemistry, all the banter and the… flirting, on both sides, felt almost out of your control entirely. It appeared it was the same for him.

So when he got upset at your cold shoulder and suddenly attempted to be authoritarian with you, it went over about as well as could be expected.

In the end, both your effort to distance yourself, and his to be unbiased, had failed spectacularly.

You turn back to the box. It’s rectangular, perhaps the size and width of a standard dictionary. Opening it on one end, you tilt it to the side, and out slides –

“!!!... my phone!” You say. “No way, I thought it was lost…”

“There's more,” Moon tells you. You peer inside, and see your wallet first; beneath that, there’s something else wrapped up in paper at the bottom. Pulling your wallet out, you dig around in the paper and find your ear buds, pod included, wrapped inside.

“This is… where did you find these?” You ask him. This was everything you had had on you when you were taken.

“In your effects locker. Pulled up with you, no doubt. I hope nothing is missing?”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t have anything else on me,” you say, opening your wallet without thinking - before you realize nobody here would have any use for your cash.

Your eyes catch Moon’s face as you go to close it again, and you pause; he’s looking at the wallet intently.

“...did you want to see?” you ask. His eyes move to yours, and he looks a bit sheepish.

“I’ve seen inside of it,” he admits. “I did a review of your things after I arrived here, though Dr. Solair’s was more thorough. I’m sorry,” he adds.

“I kind of expected that,” you say.

“If it helps, I wasn’t sure what I was looking at. I thought to ask you,” he says.

“It’s nothing crazy. Some cash, my ID, and a couple of bank cards,” you tell him. “Oh…” you reconsider as you open a little junk compartment at the back. A few business cards float around in there, along with a tiny clay charm that looks like a four leaf clover a friend had given you; there's also a purikura-style photobooth reel with you and a few friends, and a stamp card for your favorite boba tea shop.

Strangely, you think it’s an oddly accurate representation of your life.

You took the items out one by one, explaining what they are to Moon.

“Humans like these little baubles?” he asks, holding the clover charm.

“Some more than others,” you tell him. “For me, it's more about the fact it was a gift. The friend who gave it to me told me to toss it in my purse or wallet and forget about it, saying it would bring me luck or something. Figured I’d hedge my bets,” you shrug, smiling at the memory. "So much for that I guess," you add without thinking. Moon doesn't reply to that - how could he, anyway? - and you move on.

The last item you pull out is also a gift; a funky gold star sticker with five haphazardly positioned points and the words ‘YOUR DID IT’ on the front. No doubt it had been forgotten in your wallet because you hadn’t been able to decide where to stick it, doomed to live in unpeeled limbo forever.

You glance at Moon, and he’s looking at it expectantly. You chuckle nervously, not even sure how to begin describing what this is.

“Uh, it’s a sticker, from a friend. Like a cute decoration,” you say simply. “Traditionally… adults give children ‘gold stars’ to tell them they’ve done a good job. This is a callback to that,” you say. He tilts his head in interest.

“This shape represents stars?” He asks, fingers moving over the sticker.

“Oh, yes, but… usually the lines are straighter,” you tell him, drawing a star out on the surface of the table with your finger. “This was kind of a joke.”

“We use something similar,” he tells you. He draws what appears to be a 4-pointed star, from what you can tell. “This friend thought you did a good job at something?”

“No, no,” you deny, chuckling. “That’s the joke. Look at the dumb shape of it. It’s a play on that tradition. She… probably just thought I’d find it funny,” you say, looking at the sticker with him for a moment longer before moving to your phone. To your surprise, it powers on immediately.

“I hope you don’t mind, I took the liberty of powering your device for you,” he said. “Though, it goes without saying, there is no way to contact Earth.”

“I understand,” you say. Your passcode request pops up, and suddenly, you’re feeling a bit insecure. “Did… you guys also go through this?” You ask. Moon blinks down at you… well. Owlishly.

“How would we do that? There’s a password,” he says.

“Hardy-har,” You look up at him then, a half smile on your face. You’re waiting for his own smile to appear. It does not.

“... You are joking though, right?” You ask.

Moon tilts his head. “Unless you had deactivated it, how could we have gotten inside? I assure you, your dark secrets are safe,” he laughs.

“Heh heh,” you attempt to laugh with him. Oh my god.

You can see The Onion article headline flash across your eyes. This is some kind of joke, satire that wasn’t satire:

“Hyper-advanced alien race gives up after encountering ‘slightly better than nothing’ four-digit smartphone lock,”

Smile plastered on your face, you turn back to the device.

Moon seems to be attempting to not look too closely from over your shoulder as you turn the screen on, the lock immediately detecting your fingerprint on the screen and opening.

“What –” he utters, flabbergasted.

You look up at him, unimpressed. “Human magic,” you deadpan, and look back to your phone. They don't even deserve to know at this point.

“...I’ll just have to take your word for it; I’m sorry for not thinking to get it to you sooner. I know humans spend a lot of time observing them, perhaps it might have helped to alleviate some boredom here. Can it be used without the connection?”

“It works without internet,” you tell him. “At least, the camera and music I’ve downloaded will, which are all I need,” you tell him. “See?”

You pull up the camera, turning it around so you’re both in the frame.

“Ah, a clever device indeed,” he says, moving in a bit closer.

You’ve paused, your eyes on your face in the screen; you look… different than you remembered. Sadder. Perhaps… older, somehow. There's a sort of… hollowness in your face that wasn't there before.

“Is…everything alright?” He asks quietly. You flinch a bit, but try to put a smile on. It's watery at best, but the image does look a bit more like you now.

“Smile,” you tell him. He hesitates, and you wait for him to settle, a small smile appearing on his face. Your own grows a bit, before snapping the picture.

Once it’s taken, you show him.

“There now. Memorialized forever, this day,” you say. “The day Dr. Nocturne gave me back something important.” Moon’s eyes are on the picture.

“I want to take more of those,” he says. You blink at his honesty.

“Of course we can,” you say gently. You try to shake off the unnerving image of your own face from your mind. “Though, usually it needs to be charged daily.”

“I can provide you with the dock. We were fortunate it responds to wireless charging,” he says, and then, “Will the images print…?” He asks.

“Not without a printer,” you tell him. You think you see him deflate a bit, his eyes moving back to the phone. “Don’t your phones take pictures?”

“Oh, no they don’t – our pagers don’t have this function. Small cameras were banned from use in public spaces for as long as I’ve been alive, with the exception of sanctioned security cameras,” he tells you. “We do have cameras here we can use for our research, though.”

“You’re kidding,” you say. You remember Sun taking your picture once early on; the device had been somewhat large and had printed the photo immediately, much like a polaroid camera would. You hadn’t realized it was so uncommon.

“No; you can’t even find something like what you have. My pager works for audio and text-base communication, and it also provides me with news - but no camera.”

“Then, none in public spaces, but can you have one in your home?”

“Yes – they are large and obvious, though. They will also print the photo on the spot, they don’t store it,” he tells you.

“How interesting.” How archaic. “Are you going to report me for having this, good samaritan?”

“No - but if you get caught with it, that’s on you,” he warns. You laugh at that.

“Okay, so no bailouts from Dr. Nocturne, got it,” and he rolls his eyes.

.

.

.

The two of you go for a walk after lunch, but you tire quickly; it appears your body is still recovering from the day prior, and you’re fatigued after the first staircase. Still, you're resistant to going back to your room already.

Of course, Moon notices your lag almost immediately, and insists you rest.

“We can try again tomorrow, if you're up for it. Perhaps even eat lunch in the cafeteria?”

You nod reluctantly. “I’ll hold you to it, then,” you say. As you reenter your room, Moon speaks again.

“...And for the record. Of course I would bail you out,” he tells you. He’s watching you steadily, and you suddenly feel a bit flustered.

“O-okay, so bailouts from Dr. Nocturne, got it,” you tease. Dumb, dumb –

Moon smiles softly, and you calm a bit. He tells you he'll be back at dinner.

You crawl into your bed, intending to put on some music. Instead, you open your phone to immediately see the picture of you and Moon. Your phone hits your forehead with a thunk.

…damn.

---

 

“Can I ask, how your first session went with Freddy?”

You and Moon step out of your room after dinner, the two of you preparing to make your way to Freddy’s office.

“It was good,” you admit. “Better than I thought it would go, honestly. Did you know he knows Sun?”

“Yes, though I just learned that myself,” he nods. “So you talked about Dr. Solair with him, then?”

“I did, and… it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be,” you say simply.

“Freddy can have that effect. He’s easy to talk to – even I find myself sharing more than I mean to,” he sighs, and you smile.

“Right? It’s almost too easy. He’s annoyingly good at that,” you agree, and then, “How did you say you knew him? He said you were friends…” you trail off.

“Hmm, it’s been nearly a decade I think? I was working as an assistant at the time, on the verge of branching out and taking on my own team for the first time,” he tells you. “He came to work with my mentor, but he never ignored me; rather, we had some good conversations, and he gave me some sound advice,” he smiles at the memory. “I… had a lot I was going through at that time, and he really helped me figure out how to move forward.”

“...Sounds familiar,” you say gently, but don’t pry. “Did you know, ‘Freddy’ is a really well-known name on Earth?” You say.

“Is that right?” the Casilk blinks. “Huh. I wonder if there’s a connection there.”

“Is Freddy a common name around here?”

“Not at all; much like your own name, his is not one I’ve ever heard.”

“Maybe it's cultural? Freddy might be common for his species,” you suggest.

Moon’s eyes drift down to you, then, shining with interest. He leans in, closer to your level, and lowers his volume.

“Actually, it’s funny you should say that. Members of his species, the Ursa, are so uncommon that he might be one of the only ones in this galaxy,” he says. “He is actually the only one of his species I’ve ever heard of.”

“Seriously?” You gawk, and he nods.

“Lesser species from the ursidae family classification are common on many planets. But before a decade ago, if you had told me there was a sapient race of them, I would have said you were lying.” he tells you. He stops then, and you pause in your steps beside him. Moon is looking off, his brows furrowed in thought.

“Huh. I had almost forgotten, but at that time… Freddy and my mentor actually had something of a falling out.”

“What?” You find yourself surprised at this, but then again, you suppose nobody could get along with everyone.

Moon nods before leaning back in conspiratorially. “My mentor…developed an unusual fixation on Freddy,” he says. “Perhaps it was the geneticist in him, but he was determined to trace Freddy’s ancestry; I recall Freddy telling him to let it go—that his home planet had been destroyed generations ago, and he no longer had contact with any family, as they were apparently nomadic—but my mentor continued to dig,” he sighs at the memory. “I recall him saying, ‘too many things don’t add up’.”

“What sort of things?” You whisper. You can see your reflection in his eyes, your own wide with curiosity. Moon’s mouth ticks up in a smirk on one side.

“Well for one,” he starts, “My mentor claimed that he had done a backlog scan on his own translator in order to see what language Freddy was speaking to him in. But when he read the results… there was some kind of glitch.” You could tell he was hamming it up for your benefit, but you were too invested to care.

“As in… it couldn’t tell him what language it was, sort-of-glitch?”

“Yes. As in, it wasn’t a known language from anywhere – or so my mentor claimed.”

You furrow your brows. What could that mean?

Moon continues. “What’s stranger is, he said that after confronting Freddy on it, the next time he checked, the language Freddy was using was Lepori Common, which is the language of Freddy’s partner.”

“Okay, that’s not as strange. So maybe the first time was just a glitch?” You speculate, and Moon tilts his head at you consideringly.

“The thing is, people don’t really learn other species’ dialects anymore. Not since the mass production of the translators many generations ago. There is simply no reason to expend the effort to learn a second language,” he tells you. “So, either he took the time to learn it, or -”

“Or, he’s older than the translators,” you finish.

“Right, which, unless he’s several lifetimes older than he appears, should be an impossible age for a mammalian species.”

Your face is scrunched in thought, and Moon chuckles at you as he goes on.

“Quite the tantalizing mystery, isn’t it? Our friend is a bit of an enigma,” Moon says, and your eyes observe his own, crescent-shaped and shining back at you.

He straightens and continues walking then, and you startle, bounding forward to catch up with him.

“Wait! Don’t tell me you haven’t looked into it. What’s the answer?” You ask eagerly, jogging in front of him before turning to walk backward, facing him. His smile only widens.

“I respect his privacy,” Moon shrugs.

“Dr. Nocturne,” You hiss, and he laughs.

“I would never do something as shameless as speculate in gossip, either,” he adds. And his eyes are creasing in delight again at the outrage on your face.

“You are ridiculous. You can’t just drop that on me and leave it -! What if he’s like, some mythical, immortal space bear species?”

“This is Freddy we’re talking about,” he laughs, lightly placing a hand on your shoulder to steer you backward around a corner. “A more meddlesome bear has never existed. You think a magic bear species would be working as a psychologist for Allnet?”

“I would believe it,” you tell him stubbornly. Even eldritch space bears need income.

“You would believe anything right now,” he teases, poking a talon against your forehead. You bat at his hand and move to walk at his side once more as he continues. “Just because I don’t know the answer doesn’t mean there isn’t one. He is clearly of flesh and blood, and came from somewhere, like the rest of us.”

“You’re a scientist, Mo– Dr. Nocturne,” you correct. “And you’re going to tell me you have no desire to dig on this? Smells fishy to me,” you wrinkle your nose for effect.

“Oh, does it?”

“Yes, like conspiracy,” you whisper, but you’re grinning. “He is a psychologist, who has an unnatural ability to draw information from you. You said it was strange yourself!! He probably uses hypnosis or something, all so nobody will question him,” you suggest, placing your hands near your eyes and wiggling your fingers at the Casilk. Moon throws his head back and laughs at that.

“I’m certain he’s an ‘immortal space bear’ the same way you are a monster-blooded boogyman,” he retorts. “Rumors only take us so far.”

“I might remind you that neither of those things have technically been proven incorrect. I could be a monster yet,” You insist, though a teasing smile is on your lips. Moon eyes you at that, his face softening some.

“...Oh star, if it makes you feel any better, I think you are plenty monstrous,” he purrs at you. You feel the back of your neck heat, and you turn your face away immediately at the unexpected shift.

This fucking guy— god, he's just trying to distract me—

“...As you should,” you grit out. You don’t see Moon observing your darkened ears, a soft smile on his face. You pivot back quickly. “But, to the point; if not you, what about your mentor? Surely he didn’t just give up?” Moon pauses at that, and you glance back at him. He’s tilting his head as if trying to remember.

“You know, after Freddy went back to Alpha Centauri, my mentor… went back to normal, too. Never mentioned it again,” he says as the two of you reach Freddy’s office.

Your head whips to look at him, and you are beyond speechless. Your expression is utterly scandalized as your gaze bores into his, and one of your narrowed eyes twitches. The moment he observes your face, his face breaks, and he tries to contain his laughter with a hand.

“Oh my god,” You try to keep your voice low as you address him. You point a finger at his chest and hiss, “That is literally the most suspicious thing yet, I can’t believe you’re going to stand here and pretend that that’s in any way norm–”

“Is there a human and a Casilk whispering outside of my door?” You both jolt, turning to where Freddy’s head is poking out from his office. You squeak in surprise, words cut off.

“...S-sorry if I’m early,” you say, wincing at the stammer.

“Subtle,” Moon whispers. You elbow him, and he puts a hand over his smile.

Freddy’s eyes look between the two of you in amusement before smiling in earnest. “Nonsense. Please come in,” Freddy ushers you inside.

“I’ll be out here when you’re finished,” Moon says.

You turn your head to meet his eyes, and when Freddy’s back is turned, you jab a finger toward his face. This conversation isn’t over!

The last thing you see are his shoulders shaking with laughter as the door closes.

 

---

Transmission Ended.

Sun sits before the monitor in disbelief.

So rarely did things like this just… happen. It could only be destiny, Sun thinks.

Giddy doesn’t even begin to describe his emotions, and he stands, beginning to pace.

When the transmission had come in, he hadn’t known what to think; at first, he’d thought it was Chica trying to reach him after his last message - but he knew that couldn’t be right. The Glamrock would still have their comms down while they did their… other activities. At least, that’s what Chica had warned him about - no contact until the festival at The Citadel began.

No; this call had come from an even more unexpected place.

 

Incoming Transmission: Gestalt Consciousness

Sender would like to connect for audio call.

 

Line status: Open

26seconds

 

Connect to sender for audio call?

  >Accept              >Decline

 

Sun had had to take a beat, staring at the screen as his mind worked through the possible reasons why the hivemind of all beings would be reaching out to him.

His thoughts immediately traveled to you - a pathway his mind was used to traversing, at this point.

That could make sense, he supposed; the hive had integrated others for less substantiated rumors than the one that surrounded adrenaline. But to contact Sun? Clearly they knew what had happened, if they were reaching out to him all the way out here on 718C. So then they must be aware that you were already taken from him, and he no longer…

…

…No, perhaps that’s untrue, he realized. I’m still a human specialist. I could still…

He blinked. He was still employed with Allnet, and did have some authority when it came to humans by his title alone, at least on paper. Perhaps the hive thought so too?

He had accepted the call without another thought.

And it had been everything he’d hoped it would be - the plan C he’d been trying to come up with, after A and B had failed him.

To think, only hours earlier he had been at a complete loss on how to get back to you, weeks passing as he pulled his feathers out in frustration; he was essentially marooned on 718C until his assignment was complete; monitoring the growth cycle of the glabrous porcellus, a pig-like creature that spends most of its time in the mud. It was about as banal as watching paint dry.

By the time he was done here, you would be long gone… integrating into society who-knows-where. Or worse, fallen into the clutches of the Nocturne miscreant. Allnet would almost certainly restrict him from accessing where you had ended up. He had to get to you before that, and as the stars would have it, the opportunity had found him - literally, sought him out.

He looks down at his shaking hands. Soon - very soon, you’d be with him once more. The Gestalt would be sending over a contract - one he would review thoroughly. After all, the hivemind had to receive permission.

Of course, since that restriction was put upon them after they'd lost the war with the Court, the hive had learned that the only way they would ever receive this permission was by striking deals.

Their reputation quickly changed, from that of conqueror to something more akin to a crossroads devil who deals in trades; They had changed their tactics, working in low-level positions in places of interest that might pose opportunities for this. Of course, Sun and other scientists at Allnet knew what they were up to – looking for new species with desirable traits to adopt; but as most of Allnet’s subjects didn’t have autonomy over themselves, that meant the subjects were safe so long as none of the scientists made a deal with the hive at their expense, like Sun would be doing.

That isn’t to say it didn’t ever happen, early on; greedy researchers would try to trade vulnerable subjects for money or other favors. The allure of this quickly died, however – largely because the hivemind does not have much in the way of money or power to offer. Instead, if the scientist requested something the Consciousness could not feasibly give, the hivemind would find some technicality to exploit, making Monkey’s Paw deals and leaving the scientist worse off for it – and usually, jobless as well.

Scientists with any wisdom steer clear of them, now.

But Sun was desperate, and what he had asked for in return was completely doable. He had been specific in his demands; no permanent harm to you, treatment of any injuries – and after retrieving you, they will also pick Sun up and take them both safely to a planet of his choosing within the galaxy. In return, the Consciousness had asked for permission to extract some of your epinephrine. Nothing invasive, nothing that wouldn’t heal, he’d been assured; just a needle, and no more than a few minutes of necessary pain. It was a concession he was willing to make.

Sun had inquired about your current well-being at the facility. There had been a pause from the other end of the line at that - the Gestalt weren’t exactly well versed in nuance, and their communication skills were… rather technical, at best. It was what made them good at trades, but generally disliked overall; they lacked any kind of charisma. Well, that and the fact that they were, in effect, viewed as parasites to most.

But who needs friends when you have your own community of self? He thinks. Perhaps if they knew how far you could go by just being perceived as likeable, they would have found a way to steal social skills before now.

“The human is well,” they had replied. “The Nocturne Casilk is very attentive. The human is rarely alone.”

Sun scowls at the memory. He knows what the hive had meant when they said that - that you would be difficult to get by yourself. But what he’d heard disturbed him.

Sun was nothing if not imaginative, and many scenarios played out in his mind as he thought of the villain whose care you were under, who apparently did not leave you alone. He could see your blanketed form in your darkened room, your terrified eyes scanning the space unseeingly. And then, a pair of even darker talons are reaching for you, tearing your blankets, touching your skin -

His teeth clench, his talons digging into his palms.

Hold on, my sweet. You’ll be back in my arms soon.

Notes:

Moon: - and I once saw him levitate off the ground, speaking in Latin -
MC: So he's a cryptid for sure then
Moon: ...nah that's just how our silly Fredboy is ;3

Hive: He keeps her room warm, and feeds her good meals -
Sun: Oh my gods he's going to eat her

Probably nobody noticed, but Moon is no longer referred to as 'Dr. Nocturne' in MC's POV, outside of her actual dialogue. Baby steps, but she's stopped thinking of him so formally... even while she clings to the social order, calling him by his title despite everything.

Yes, I’m aware that phones ask for your password after restarting, but for the sake of the flow of this chapter I made an artistic exception! Also - why isn’t her phone damaged at all after the chaos of teleportation? Because it's a Samsung. Canonically, I’ve declared it, let’s fight about it in the comments ( - ᴗ •́ ) (I'm kidding pls don't fight me hahaha)

Loooot of conversations happening in this one, and the next one; If you couldn’t tell, I’m not a fan of skimming over them – I get this pet peeve when writers gloss over that stuff, essentially skipping the development between two characters by throwing in fluff like “they enjoyed their dinner together, tossing witty banter over the table”—like, no, what was the banter, tell me all the details!! And I could gloss over her sessions with Freddy; but also, no I couldn’t. I watched “Loki” a year ago – and I thought the show itself was fine. But I felt where it really shined was the writing. It didn’t belittle the audience’s attention span, as far as the dialogue; They had these really long, drawn-out conversations between Loki and Mobius (like you think they’re going to end, and then they just… don’t) and I just really enjoyed that they took the time to do that. Conversely, I could also see someone complaining about that series for the same reason, so 🤷‍♀️

That being said, we'll have another session with Freddy next chapter... and THEN 〜⁠(⁠꒪⁠꒳⁠꒪⁠)⁠〜 I'm so excited for chapter 13 𓁹‿𓁹

Please give me a snack by leaving a comment, thank you (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ