Chapter Text
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In the jagged gaps of empty silence
In the faded memory of a broken echo
In the untold stories of a wasted life
In the quiet burden of the bitter cold
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"You're up early."
Stratt looks up, the slightest pull of confusion in her eyes. "I am always up this early."
She watches as Grace enters her office without waiting for an invitation, two cups of coffee in his hands. He sets one in front of her before sitting in the chair opposite. "Yeah, I know. I just figured with the party last night..." His voice trails off as if he has already fully explained himself.
"You saw me leave the party. Did you think I went back and drank to excess?"
"No," he packpedals, shuffling in his seat in the the way that always amuses her. "I just mean, everyone is going to be pretty slow getting up today. You could have rested. Maybe even slept in."
She tilts her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth that she has long since experienced in his presence. "You're awake. You don't seem particularly hung over."
"Hey, I drink. I had a beer!"
"Just one, I am guessing?" Because she remembers him there, sitting at the bar with an open bottle, studying a book while everyone else drank and sang and laughed. She watched him from the hall. He didn't seem to be a part of any of it until she walked in, held the microphone, and opened her mouth.
He grinned. "Yeah, I just had one. The whole thing was too surreal, anyway. And I, you know, I didn't want to lose my head and miss anything. We're too close to mess up."
"I feel the same. Which is why I am already working. Thank you for the coffee." She reaches and takes a drink. Of course, it is just the way she likes it. It's as if he has always been in her life, always bringing her coffee just the way she likes it, coffee and a joke and an escape from who she has to be.
He sips from his cup as well, seemingly comfortable in her cramped office, comfortable being closer to her than she sees him with anyone else. And she is comfortable, too. With him near. With his smiles and jokes and crooked glasses and radiant light.
The silence extends and she watches as he shuffles in his seat again, never sitting still, always leaning or twitching or bouncing his knee. She knows he has something he wants to talk about. It is easier for her to let him stew, let him be uncomfortable until he finally gets the courage to say what he wants.
Easier to just sit, staring, until he shrinks and gives in.
Easier than acknowledging to herself that she is enjoying his visits more and more, that she almost feels like she wouldn't even exist unless he was there to pester her.
But she can't admit these things. Not even to herself. So she forces her face neutral, save for the slight raising of her eyebrow and tilt of her head.
He exhales, almost a snort, and starts rambling. "I'm, last night. I mean, I just wanted to say you sounded amazing. Really. Your, uh, youth choir was lucky to have you."
She smiles, because she can't help herself. She enjoyed last night, first when he approached her on the deck with his nervous energy and flirtatious teasing, his eyes wide as she shared a bit of herself with him, and then later when she shared even more, singing to the whole crew but really to him.
But she can't respond. She won't allow herself yet. She has long since known that her silence drives most people to confess and admit far more than they would usually. It is one of the most powerful tools in her care.
And Grace doesn't like silence, not in the same way she does. He shyly looks down before glancing up at her again and saying, "Not a song I expected from you. Harry Styles."
"You're not a fan?"
"He's fine. I would play his music sometimes in class. I just, like.... How did you know it so well? It was really impressive."
Stratt smiles, the decision to tell him the truth occuring instantly, the decision to share something with him that nobody else knows suddenly beyond intoxicating. "My daughter and I would sing along with it when I drove her to school when she was younger."
To his credit, Grace keeps his astonishment silent although she can tell it is difficult for him to do so. His eyebrows raise and for a split second he even seems almost scared before he swallows, nodding, trying desperately to switch the gears in his head.
"Yeah, I mean. That would be good practice." He takes a breath, almost smiling but the smile is nervous, anxious, embarrassed. "I, uh, never knew you had a kid."
"Nobody knows," she says easily, waiting for a feeling of regret but feeling nothing but warmth. "It is not something I broadcast."
She sees his eyes glance again at her left hand, at the absence of a ring on the finger to display such attachment. She decides to torture him a little longer and deny the answer that he so obviously craves.
"I have two children. My oldest Sebastian - Bastian - is 21. Studying to be an environmental engineer. And my daughter Lina is preparing to enter university. She's 18." The pride in her voice is natural. Comforting. There is small panic niggling in the corner of her mind but she pushes it away easily.
"Wow. That's awesome." He couldn't look more dejected. Once again, she is almost overwhelmed by a desire to protect him, comfort him. Ever since the first meeting with the project that she dragged him too, smelling of vomit and insecurity, she has experienced a near torturous desire for him to be well, to be accepted, to be secure and confident. It was months before she even acknowledged it to herself.
"It's ok, Grace." And her voice is softer, more human, and some of her feminity that she has long since suppressed comes rushing to the surface. "You can ask."
He almost grins and she can see his gratitude at her offering. "And their father? Your husband? Partner?"
"Henrik. My husband's name is Henrik."
He nods without seeming to notice he is doing so. "Husband? Not ex-husband?"
She pauses, reticence finally appearing. "Not technically."
There is silence again, but the silence holds more than it did before, and she can feel longing and uncertainty and fear and affection and even hope sprinkling in the air like dust. They both breathe it in. And she watches as he looks around the room, surely noticing that there isn't a single personal item in sight.
It is unbearable. "Grace."
He turns to her, eyes open, even trusting, and she aches with what this confession may have done to him.
"That part of my life seems a long time ago. When I took this job, I knew there would be sacrifices. Leaving my family behind was one of mine. And it is easier for men in power to take me seriously if they think I am unmarried. If they think I am unmarriable. For many of these governments, women are entirely excluded from authority positions. For those leaders to do as I ask, it is easier to think of me as cold, harsh. Unlovable. It is easier to take orders from what they consider to be the aberration of womanhood. If they knew I was a mother, let's be honest, they would tell me to go back to the kirchen and let the men do the important work."
"That's wrong." His indignation is so endearing. She smiles sadly, shrugging her shoulders ever so slightly.
"That's the way it is. And it will be easier for them to vilify me after, when this is all done. They won't think it is wrong to condemn the women who lied, stole, and cheated her way to the success of this project. They won't want to scapegoat a mother. But someone like me? It will be so easy. Nobody cares about a heartless bitc--"
"No. That won't happen. You are doing the right thing. You are literally the one saving us. All of us." He leans closer to her desk and she can see he is already hurting on her behalf.
She takes a breath. "That sentiment, while honorable, won't last more than a few months after the launch. Years, maybe. But not than that."
He nods, and she watches as he leans back in on his chair, the realization of the truth of her words heavy in the air, destroying all previous glitter of affection and hope.
"Do you see them?" he asks kindly. "Your family?"
How much of what we say is true because we want it to be so? Even after all of her years interacting with humanity, she isn't certain of the answer.
"Not often. Video calls mostly." She smiles, the kind of smile she rarely expresses. "I do think Lina will be proud of her old mother when I tell her about the karaoke."
He grins widely, and she appreciates it more than she expected. "She will be proud," he agrees easily. But the pain in his eyes is still there. "And your husband?"
She waits a moment before responding, wanting the words to be the correct ones. "Marriage isn't always what people think. Sometimes, the things that draw you to a person are the things that make you despise them as well. I was very young when we got married. Too young." She sighs, shaking her head slightly as the words come tumbling. "My being away is probably the best thing that ever happened to us since then. Except for my children, of course."
He nods, holding his hands together in his lap and she feels that he is only doing so to stop himself from getting out of his chair to come around the desk and embrace her. "I'm sorry," is what he says, and she can't decide if she wished for those words or wished for his embrace.
"I'm not. He's... a good man. In his own way. Even before this, I always had demanding employment. He and the children followed me around for a long time. They all had to sacrifice a lot to be related to me. Lots of moving, days or weeks, months, when I was too busy to even say hello. It couldn't last forever."
'What does he do?"
"He's in construction. Could have done more but never had much ambition, I suppose. When he saw that my skills were far more lucrative, he took his hobby and made it employment. It worked. No matter where I got a job, every place needed construction workers. After I accepted this job, after I left, he took our children back to Denmark where he's from."
"Denmark. Hmm." He chuckles. "Not my finest moment there."
She grins, and resists the urge to tell him more, tell him everything.
"That must be difficult," he adds.
"We all have to sacrifice something."
"Yeah, but that's a -- that's a big thing to sacrifice. Your family."
"Look at you. Here still after four years. You must miss your students, miss teaching."
"Yeg, but I'm doing this for them. So they can actually have a future."
"The same for all of us. And it hasn't been all bad, has it?"
His eyes light up. "What, being kidnapped by the most powerful woman in the world and getting to work with the most amazing people to save the world?"
She scoffs. "I hardly kidnapped you."
"Yes you did. You can admit it, I was expendable at the beginning."
"Perhaps," she concedes with a smile. "But it didn't take long until you became the most essential of all of us."
"I wouldn't go that far."
"I would. You mean more to me than anyone. I wish you could see how much our success at this point is because of you."
He looks down, so visibility uncomfortable with praise. She wonders what kind of hurt he endured to think so little of himself.
But there is still grit in him. He meets her gaze and offers one of his own, appreciation and friendship. "Last night was...special. Thank you for doing that. I know it meant a lot to everyone. To me."
She nods, smiling, not trusting herself to respond to his words. Instead she says, "I took Lina to see Harry Styles when we lived in Berlin after his album came out. Sign of the Times was both of our favorite of the songs. And I am happy that I got to share that with everyone." With you remains unspoken.
He takes a deep breath, looking around before clapping his hands together. "So, big moving day today."
"Yes," she agrees, grateful to return to a conversation she can process. "I will be heading to Baikonur later this morning. You will stay here to ensure the transfer of the research equipment."
"Yep"
'We need everything. We can't leave anything behind. We can't risk missing something that may end up being essential."
"I am on it. Don't you worry at all. I am on this like an enzyme on a substrate. Like astrophage on Venus."
She raises her eyebrows and he shrugs sheepishly.
"I'll see you again in a week, Dr. Grace."
"Yep." He rises out of his chair, tossing his empty coffee cup in the trash before heading to the door.
"Grace?" she calls. He turns and she pretends not to notice the anguish barely concealed in his expression. "Thank you for the coffee."
He salutes with a grin, then turns and is gone.
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