Chapter Text
“Eye movement detected”
Distantly chimes a woman’s voice from above Simon. As his eyelids slowly flutter open, the world around him is blurry and far too bright. Only when he realizes that a big undistinguishable shape is rapidly approaching him does he rapidly blink to force his vision to clear. Eventually the world comes into focus and to Simon’s horror what appears to be some sort of robot is reaching for his face. Stifling a gasp, Simon tries to squirm out of the way, but his body burns with furious pain in protest to this. Once again he hears the woman’s voice, advising him to not move too much due to his… recently treated injuries? Before he can start to unpack that statement, the robot tries to grab for him again. Growling softly, he forces himself to roll over despite the severe amount of pain he feels from doing so, and falls to the ground. Once again, the disembodied female voice scolds him for moving. Ripping the IV out of his arm, Simon shuffles backwards until his back thuds against the cold, metal wall. Breaths coming in rugged and quick, Simon frantically eyes the room. The room is incredibly high tech, the technology far more advanced than Simon has ever seen before, and appeared to be a medical station of sorts. Despite hearing a woman’s voice, there’s no one in sight. Great… more women are trying to communicate with me in mysterious ways… Whirring softly, the robot arm starts slowly reaching for him again, as if almost hesitant.
“St-Stay the FUCK away from me…!! Where the hell am I now!?!” Simon demands, tensing up as he presses himself even closer up against the wall.
The robot seems to whirr in response, but the sound it makes is drowned out by the sounds of rapidly approaching footsteps. The thumping sounds reverberate against the high tech walls, growing louder the closer they get. The convict stifles a gasp, trying to stand up but his legs instantly give way beneath him, forcing him to crumple back down to the ground. He groans softly, watching blood start to soak the medical gown adorning his frame. Wait… medical gown? But now was hardly the time for him to process that someone undressed him, right now he had to protect himself from whoever or whatever is approaching. He needed something, anything, to at least try to keep himself safe. Spotting something on the ground not too far from him, Simon ignores the protests from his wounds as he leans over to grab it. He internally groans as he feels how soft and squishy his “weapon” is, but he has no time to find something better. In the doorway now stands a man, his blonde hair messily framing his face and glasses askew, his blue eyes widened in shock. Simon doesn’t bother to wonder why the man before him seems vaguely familiar, tossing the blue and green squishy thing at him with as much force as possible. The man grunts as it bounces off of his chest, looking at Simon like a befuddled kitty for throwing something so pathetic at him.
“Where… where the fuck am I?!” Simon demands, his lips quirking into a half-hearted snarl.
The man before him blinks dumbly for a moment before glancing around at his own surroundings. The robot arm turns to the man whirring frantically. He tries to console the piece of technology before taking a tentative step closer towards Simon. The man awkwardly extends a hand, eyes wide as his mouth opens and closes like a fish does when it’s out of the water. Before he can say anything, the disembodied voice of the woman pipes up.
“You are on board the Hail Mary. For your safety it is advised that you allow medical care to commence.”
“Right.. uh.. Thank you, Mary,” the man starts, rubbing the back of his neck, “you were…. to say the least, injured…? So we brought you on board to help you..!”
The man’s words catch Simon off guard. Help…? Why would anyone want to help me now…? After… everything…? Echoes of the Filament Station exploding rings through his mind, the image the SM-13 took of the COI crewmembers as he blasted them with radiation, Ava’s final screams of terror as the blood eel slaughters her play on a distorted loop. Despite having most of the blood cleaned off of him, it still feels like he’s drowning in it. The thick red liquid filling his nostrils, the taste of iron piercing his tongue, flooding his lungs… The blood of all the lives he’d taken scarring his body to serve as a constant reminder of his sins. He should be dead. Consumed by the hellish beast of the blood ocean, condemned to the hivemind. Yet somehow the voice of his mother brought him to a star nursery and a hellish red light brought him here. This has to be some new fuckass trick of the blood ocean, Simon is certain of it. “You deserve a second chance, Simon. And you deserve forgiveness.” Total bullshit, Simon scoffs to himself as his mother’s(?) words replay in the back of his mind, I deserve to be fucking dead.
“We mean you no harm… My name is Grace…!! Are you areeee?”
The other man’s voice pries Simon out of his head, somewhat tethering him back to reality. The dark haired man blinks up at the blonde one, growling softly upon realizing that he had gotten closer. While he was stuck in his own head, Grace had stepped closer and is now crouched before Simon, a hand awkwardly reaching out to him, as if he’s attempting to pet a stray cat. At Simon’s growl, Grace swiftly pulls his hand back to give the man space. A look of confusion is plastered on his face as his blue eyes study Simon, which makes the convict shrink in on himself. He could only image how disgusting he looks, from his injuries to whatever the blood ocean did to fuck him up. But to Simon’s surprise, Grace’s look of confusion melts into one of relief as his eyes meet his. The two men swiftly avert gazes the second they make eye contact. Though seeing such a kind look on another person’s face fills Simon with a flicker of hope that maybe this wasn’t the doing of the blood ocean and his mother really did bring him somewhere better.
Looking into Grace’s oddly kind eyes brings back another memory of Simon’s. That golden light approaching him from the vastness of space, reaching out for him so gently, enveloping him in its warmth. What he thought was an angel turns out to be some random ass guy in space. That is if any of this wasn’t some concoction of the blood ocean’s. Simon internally smacks himself over the head for thinking something so stupid, but as he looks back at Grace, he can’t ignore the angelic vibe the guy gave off. Simon couldn’t help but think that the way the other man’s blonde hair framed his face almost seems halo-like. Looking at him hurt slightly, so Simon just stares down at his lap as he slowly unfurls himself, oddly finding it to be alright to leave himself more vulnerable to Grace. His body is still stained with blood, the mottled look of what remains gives Simon the impression that someone toweled it off him in a hurry–most likely Grace. Shit. This isn’t normal fucking blood. Who knows what’ll happen to Grace since he’s come into contact with it…! Great. I’ve killed the man who saved my life. Maybe this is a nightmare after all… Am I bound to kill everyone I come into contact with?
Despite believing to be stuck in a nightmare, Simon can’t stop himself from warning the ‘angel’ of the hazard he’s caused. He owes the man that much. “The blood. It’s seriously… seriously fucked up…!! Just… be careful… It’s fucked me up bad…”
Simon manages to choke out, forcing himself to look back up at Grace. Guilt and quite possibly the remaining blood burns the convict’s skin, his mind racing at the thought of what horrible things will happen to his savior just because he had the heart to save him. Grace’s gaze darkens slightly at the mention of the blood, but somehow doesn’t seem surprised by this information.
“Yeah, we know… But don’t worry about that, we’ve been careful and most of it is probably cleaned up by now. We’ll study it further later," Grace explains, giving Simon a small, reassuring smile.
Simon can’t stop a strained sob from escaping his throat. ‘Don’t worry’? But all he can do is worry. He has no clue how he wound up here. He doesn’t know if any of this is real or a nightmare. And regardless of this being reality or not, he’s put all these people on this ship(?) in danger, since Grace’s use of ‘we’ implies that it isn’t just him. Yet again, Simon’ll be forced to watch lives fall apart at his doing. More blood will stain his hands. This time it’ll be the blood of an angel. The blood of a man who simply tried to help him. He is called The Butcher after all, and that’s all he’ll ever be. Whispers of the blood hivemind echo in his mind once more, leering at him, reminding him that he’ll always be The Butcher. Reminding him that Grace, an angel, will die by his monstrous hands. Simon demands that the voices shut up, but at his protest the voices only grow louder. He curls in himself, chest heaving with ragged coughs mixed with sobs, the taste of iron filling his mouth as the voices just keep getting louder.
“Oh jeez–!! Sir… uhm, you’re bleeding…!!” the sound of Grace’s voice somehow slicing through the ones of the blood ocean. To Simon’s horror, the man has scooted closer to him and is instinctively reaching out to wipe away the blood that’s trickling from his mouth.
Without hesitation, Simon smacks Grace’s hand away. “DO NOT!!” he snaps, “Just… don’t, please…” he softly breathes out a few heartbeats later, lowering his head into his knees and clutching the back of his head.
Guilt for slapping Grace instantly pierces through Simon’s chest as he hears the other man pull away from him and get up. But scaring him away is for the best, if Grace deems Simon unworthy of being saved, maybe he’ll have a chance of living… To not die by The Butcher’s hand. But to Simon’s horror and unwelcomed relief, the sound of Grace’s footsteps approaching him once again cuts through the whispers in his mind. Grace kneels in front of the mess of a man, gently cupping his face with a gloved hand to tilt his head upwards, dapping a towel to the trickle of blood coming from Simon’s mouth. Every fiber in the convict’s body is screaming at him to pull away, to not bring anymore harm to this undeserving man, but he just can’t bring himself to do so. Simon sighs softly in defeat, reluctantly allowing Grace to tend to him.
“Sorry, that was stupid of me… Almost touching the blood with my bare hands,” Grace apologizes, holding onto Simon’s face so tenderly as he wipes away the blood.
Simon internally agrees that it was stupid of Grace to almost do that, but he should be the one apologizing. Once the worst of the blood is cleaned up, Grace starts to pull his hand away from Simon. Against his own will, Simon instantly reaches up and grabs the other man’s hand, tugging it back to his face. Pressing against Grace’s hand, Simon appreciates the warmth permeating through the rubber, and just how real it feels. Eden, please let this angel be real… Simon prays, squeezing Grace’s hand with his own. Grace on the other hand is so baffled by this that he doesn’t dare to move. Let alone breathe. He just lets the man before him continue to hold his hand, desperately trying to ignore the tingle burning under his skin from being touched by another human being.
“Please… please be real…” Simon chokes out, fighting back tears.
Grace makes a soft noise of confusion at his question, taking a moment to respond. “I… I promise I’m real… I’m real and I’ve got you…”
At the blonde man’s confirmation, Simon shudders as he can no longer hold back his tears. There’s still the whisper of the hivemind telling him that this is a lie and none of this is real. But just for this moment, Simon allows himself to believe this angel of a man. To believe that his mother really did bring him here. To believe he’s gotten his freedom. Grace awkwardly embraces the dark haired male as he continues to sob, muttering equally awkward reassurances. Before Simon can register that he’s being embraced by another human being, his sobs shift to ragged coughs as his fresh wounds flash with lighting hot pain. He crumples further into Grace’s arms, groaning in agony as the blonde man yelps in alarm. The woman, called Mary apparently, once again claims that medical attention is imperative right this second. At this, Grace scoops Simon into his arms and hurries him back to the medical table. He allows Grace to lay him out on the table and doesn’t attempt to escape the medical robo arm this time. His body felt as heavy as lead all of a sudden. As the machine starts to do its job once again, starting by giving Simon a new IV, Grace tries to pull back, but Simon stops him by grabbing his hand. His savior makes a soft noise of surprise, but stays put.
“I’m… sorry…” Simon whispers, squeezing Grace’s hand.
“What are you sorry for…?” Grace asks, a genuine look of confusion appearing on his face.
For making you go out of your way to somehow save me. For endangering you and your crew. For the horrible things I’ve done that you don’t even know about. Simon wants to say, but all he’s able to manage is: “For throwing that squishy blue thing at you…”
Grace blinks in surprise at this before snickering softly, “The earth hackysak? It’s okay, you were scared. What else were you going to do? You just woke up in an unknown location and I was a total stranger just gawking at you. It's just a basic survival thing. I’ve had middle schoolers throw that thing at me with far greater force and far more malicious intentions in the past.”
Simon’s lips quiver into a small smile, a flicker of amusement flickering in his chest. Just as he’s about to respond, thundering sounds of someone else approaching echoes through the ship. For a moment Simon thinks it’s Grace’s other crewmates coming over, but the closer they got, the less human it sounded. The thumping is too clunky, too heavy to be human. Simon stiffens at this, glancing over at Grace who seems totally unfazed by the rapidly approaching danger. He wants nothing more than to get up and escape again, but the medical arm prevents him from doing so, since it’s now busy resewing some stitches he had busted. There’s a musical chiming noise in the doorway and as Simon turns his head to face it, he sucks in a breath. There in the doorway stands a sentient ROCK, with five limbs and encased in some weird glass contraption, making furious musical tones. Whipping his head back to look at Grace, Simon is mortified to see that the man is still totally unfazed by the presence of a literal fucking alien.
“What the FUCK this THAT!?”