Chapter Text
Most days were good.
Not perfect. None of them were under any illusion that perfection was an attainable goal anymore. Between them, they carried enough scars, regrets, and memories to fill a library.
But most days were good.
Simon and Grace had been living on Erid for a little over a year now. Looking back, it was difficult to believe how much had changed in such a short time.
The first few months had been hard.When they had finally arrived on Erid, they had both been in terrible shape. The encounter with the Blood Moon only weeks earlier had left wounds that went far deeper than anything physical. Grace had been exhausted to the point of collapse, running on stubbornness and momentum long after his body had wanted to give up.
Simon had been just as damaged, but somehow he had recovered faster.
Grace suspected it was because Simon had spent so much of his life surviving impossible situations that his mind had simply defaulted to the familiar rhythm of endurance. Whatever the reason, Simon had been the first to find his feet.
He cooked when Grace forgot to eat. He sat beside Grace during the worst of the nightmares. He listened without judgement when old guilt came clawing its way to the surface. And eventually Grace had returned the favour.
They had talked for hours during those first months. They talked about mistakes, about fears, about things they wished they had done differently. The confessions had not fixed anything, but they had made the weight easier to carry.
Rocky had been recovering too. The Eridian's injuries had not been as severe as Grace's, but they had been significant enough that he had spent much of those early months under the watchful eye of Adrian and half a dozen anxious doctors who treated him like fragile scientific equipment.
Rocky hated every second of it. The moment he was well enough to leave recovery, he resumed making everyone else's lives difficult. His timing remained impeccable.
Whenever a conversation threatened to become too serious, Rocky would appear seemingly from nowhere with an outrageous observation, a terrible joke, or an unsolicited opinion.
More than once he had interrupted a heavy discussion with an announcement that one of them was "making sad face again."
His complete refusal to treat either human delicately had helped them remember how to laugh.
So most days were good.
The bad days rarely announced themselves.
Sometimes it was a sound, a dream, a memory surfacing without warning. Sometimes there was no obvious trigger at all. Grace would notice the signs gradually. Simon becoming quieter, his answers shortening. His shoulders drawing tighter, or the thousand-yard stare creeping into his eyes.
And sometimes Grace would find him standing perfectly still, as though some invisible force had pressed pause on the world. His eyes would be unfocused, fixed on something that wasn't there and his breathing would be shallow. Grace knew from experience that whatever Simon was seeing, it wasn't Erid. It was somewhere much darker. Somewhere he couldn't escape.
The first time it had happened, Grace had made a mistake. He hadn't known yet. He had seen Simon standing motionless in the middle of a corridor and done the obvious thing.
He had reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder.Nothing more.
The reaction had been immediate.
One moment Simon had been staring into space, the next he had moved. Fast.
Far faster than Grace had thought possible. Grace barely had time to register what was happening before his back slammed into the wall and pain exploded across his shoulders.
A forearm crushed against his throat and his feet left the floor. For a few terrifying seconds all Grace could see were Simon's eyes, wild and unfocused, completely unaware of where he was or who he was looking at.
Simon had been snarling something, words tumbling over each other in panic and fury.
Fragments about containment and about something in the dark waiting outside.
Grace couldn't breathe well enough to answer. Couldn't think. Couldn't do anything except stare at the man he had trusted and realise Simon wasn't seeing him at all.
As far as Simon was concerned, Grace had ceased to exist and whatever nightmare had him in its grip had become his reality.
Grace might never have escaped if Rocky hadn't come charging down the corridor.
Grace still maintained that Rocky's species had no business moving as quickly as they did when motivated. Rocky hit Simon like a runaway train. And the impact sent all three of them sprawling.
Simon landed hard and before he could recover, Rocky planted himself squarely on Simon's chest. The resulting argument had consisted almost entirely of Simon struggling and Rocky loudly informing him that he was being a “stupid human”.
Eventually the fight drained away and the wildness left Simon's eyes, replaced by confusion, then horror.
Grace would never forget that expression. The moment Simon realised where he was, when he recognised Grace.The moment he understood exactly what had almost happened.
The devastation on his face had been worse than the attack itself and it had taken weeks to convince Simon that Grace wasn't afraid of him, longer before Simon fully believed it.
Since then they had developed rules.
Grace never touched Simon unexpectedly during an episode.
Never approached too quickly.
Never cornered him.
Instead he stayed nearby and spoke softly about simple things, the time, his name, where they were. Or he played familiar music and hoped it would remind Simon of safer times.
Eventually the tension would ease. Simon would blink, look around, and slowly return to the present.
On the bad days, Grace learned that sometimes the best thing he could do was simply remain there, waiting patiently at the edge of the storm until Simon found his way back.
Grace hated it.
He hated the waiting, the helplessness of it. He hated watching the signs appear one by one, knowing exactly where they led and being unable to stop them. The distant look. The rigid shoulders. The way Simon's attention slowly drifted somewhere Grace couldn't follow.
Most of all, he hated watching Simon put himself back together afterwards.
The shame filled exhaustion and the quiet apologies for things that weren't really his fault.
Grace could fix engines. He could solve problems. He could save planets.
But when Simon's mind disappeared down one of those dark, twisting paths, all Grace could do was wait at the entrance and hope he'd find his way back.
Today had been good.
Really good.
Grace had spent the morning teaching.
Simon had spent most of the day working on the extension he was building onto the house, muttering measurements under his breath and refusing to admit he was enjoying himself.
Rocky and Adrian had visited in the afternoon.
The visit had somehow devolved into an argument about structural supports, a discussion about Eridian music, and Rocky accusing both humans of being "house obsessed."
It had been comfortable, normal. The kind of day that made Grace think maybe they were finally settling into something resembling a life.
Which was why he wasn't paying attention when he left the kitchen.
He was moving quickly, waters in hand, trying to get back to the living room before the movie started. He rounded the corner and plowed directly into Simon.
The collision drove Simon forwards till his shoulders hit the door with a thud.
Grace barely managed to keep hold of the glasses before they flew across the hallway.
"Oh, crap, sorry—"
The words died in his throat.
Simon wasn't reacting.
He stood exactly where he'd been pushed. Front against the door. Grace pressed against his back.
Frozen.
Grace's stomach dropped. He knew that look. Instinct screamed at him to move, to back away and give Simon space before panic turned to violence. Grace held himself perfectly still, bracing for whatever would happen, preparing for the worst.
Instead, Simon made a sound, a soft, almost wounded moan. It didn’t sound like fear, it sounded like relief. Then all the air rushed out of him in a single breath, a long, shuddering exhale as though he'd been holding it for hours.
Grace blinked.
Simon took another breath.Slower this time deeper. The tension in his shoulders eased fractionally. And the rigid set of his jaw loosened.Grace carefully started to pull away.
"No."
The word came out rough and low.
"Stay."
Grace froze.
"What?"
Simon swallowed.
Still not quite looking at him.
"Just..."
His eyes squeezed shut briefly.
"Stay."
Grace's confusion battled with concern. Concern won.
"Okay."
Slowly, cautiously, he leaned forward again., just enough to restore the pressure.
Immediately Simon's shoulders dropped another fraction.The change was so subtle most people would have missed it. Grace didn't. They stayed there, neither of them speaking, the only sounds were the faint hum of the house systems and their breathing gradually settling into the same rhythm.
After a minute—or maybe five—Simon lowered his head until his forehead lightly touched the door. Another slow and steady breath. Then he nodded.
"Okay."
Grace waited.
"Can I move now?"
A faint snort escaped Simon.
"Yeah."
Grace stepped back while his scientist brain began demanding answers. Simon very deliberately avoided eye contact as he turned round. Interesting.
"Everything okay?"
Simon rubbed a hand over his face.
"Yeah."
The response came too quickly. Grace narrowed his eyes as Simon stared at the opposite wall.
"So..." Simon said.
"Yeah?"
"Movie?"
Grace continued staring. Simon continued not looking at him. The silence stretched.
Eventually Grace sighed.
"Movie."
They migrated to the couch and Grace set up a movie, something light and funny probably. Grace absorbed none of it because his entire attention was fixed on the data point that had just landed in his lap. Simon had been spiraling, not all the way gone, but close. Then Grace had accidentally pressed him against a solid surface and Simon had calmed. Not immediately, but noticeably, measurably.
Grace glanced sideways.Simon was watching the screen, looking more relaxed than he had all week. A hypothesis began forming and by the time the credits rolled, Grace had a notebook full of observations waiting to be written. And for the first time in months, he thought he might have found a way to pay back Simon.