Work Text:
For the first time, it felt alone.
It’s not as if it hadn’t been alone before-
From the start of its very existence, it had always been by itself.
But now, now it was able to think and feel for the first time, and now, yes, now it certainly felt that strange emotion known as loneliness, and of course, that other new emotion.
Guilt.
Yes, so much guilt for what it had inadvertently done to the life on earth.
It could not say that it had been curious, no, for it had not been capable of such a thing prior to its meeting with Sam.
It had merely reached out, towards what had seemed to be another, distant, foreign part of itself, staring back at it from a tiny speck of a planet.
It had only meant to look.
That was all.
But that, had done more than enough damage.
It hadn’t known, hadn’t thought, couldn’t have thought that what it was doing was hurting them.
It couldn’t have known.
But still, it had hurt them regardless.
Worse than harm- many had died, so many lives snuffed out, all those individual thoughts and feelings and aspirations ceasing to be.
Where did the mind of a human go, when they died?
Despite the belief that it was a god, it just didn’t know.
So much had been lost, and even with what it had learned, it still knew oh so little.
… would they be ok, now that it was gone?
Or, had it been too late?
Could they possibly recover, after how much it had changed them?
It didn’t know.
And it never would.
It had promised to leave, to go far, far away.
Somewhere dark, where no light could reach it.
Where nothing could ever see it. Not ever again.
It couldn't risk leaving, couldn’t risk going back, just to see what had become of them. Not without hurting them again.
So it festered, in its own guilt and regret.
If only it hadn’t been noticed in the first place.
If only it hadn’t sought them out…
As it curled up tightly, in some distant, far off part of space, it thought of its only respite.
The one who had met with him…
Sam.
It had promised it wouldn’t forget him, and it hadn’t.
It was grateful for that first, and last conversation.
It had never spoken with anyone before, and it never would again, but it felt as if it could understand, just a little, what it was like to be so, so small, to be so human.
Sam’s thoughts had been full of all kinds of worries, and it had been so fascinating to pick through.
At the forefront of his mind, had been worry, and fear.
Concern for his friends, fear of itself, and worry about all kinds of seemingly inconsequential things, like whether or not they had enough food at home, if he had turned the stove off, had he remembered to brush his teeth before he left?
It was strange, utterly foreign to it.
It hadn’t been able to understand what it was seeing, when it looked upon Earth.
It couldn’t comprehend that the life it was seeing were singular individuals, unlike itself.
But Sam had brought many things into perspective.
His companions were not extensions of himself, as much as it might have thought they were at first glance.
They were all… separate.
And still, he worried for them, fretting over the thought of them getting injured, if they had had enough to eat, if they were safe.
Why was he concerned with something that wasn’t a part of him?
But quickly, that too had been answered.
Companionship had been another new concept.
Friendship, affection, love, family…
It was difficult for it to twist its mind around, many distant synapses firing off in its efforts to understand.
But it think it understood now.
It was lonely, to think, and feel, and have no one to talk to
It was lonely, being alone.
Sam had understood this too.
He had been alone too, before it visited.
How strange, that it’s arrival had brought him and his companions together.
Strange to think that what it had done could have caused any good, no matter how small.
Life it seemed, was far more complex than it had seemed.
Even Sam had done many things he regretted, swirling feelings of guilt and regret buried deep within his subconscious, of the things he had done to survive, the things he hadn’t…
What was good, and what was bad weren’t always distinct. You could harm someone without meaning to.
You could help without meaning to also…
Much as it had.
And despite all the things it had done to life on earth… Sam hadn’t approached it with hate, or anger.
He was scared, yes, but he spoke softly, almost kindly, explaining the things it didn’t understand patiently.
It couldn’t stop thinking about him, about the short amount of time they had spent together, their conversation.
Time stretched ever on, and as it promised, it never stopped thinking about Sam.
Was he doing well?
Were he and his friends still together?
…Did he still think of it, the way it thought of him?
It wished that it could talk to him again.
… It missed him, it realised. It missed talking.
But, it couldn’t meet anyone ever again.
It would never have another conversation. Never have another friend.
Never have another… Sam…
It opened an eye, and gazed out into the far off reach of space.
Somewhere, near one of those tiny, twinkling little lights, was Earth, and on it, his one, and only friend.
And somehow…
Just knowing that he was out there, somewhere, it began to feel just a little less alone.
How strange.
After that realisation, things did become easier to bear.
It was still lonely, but, just thinking of Sam, looking at that far off tiny speck, brought it some relief.
Not alone. Not really.
Eons pass by, falling like grains of sand.
It had existed since the beginning of time, and would continue to exist for as long as the universe did, so even the thousands of years passing by felt inconsequential…
Until, one day, something changes.
It can feel something, a familiar presence, reaching out to embrace it.
The two curl around each other, and it hears him, greeting it warmly like it were an old friend.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“… Sam?”
It feels his fingers wrap around it, interlocking with its own, and for the first time, it knows what it feels like to be hugged.
… it doesn’t want to let go.
“You shouldn’t be here. I will hurt you. I will change you.”
“You won’t.”
It doesn’t understand.
They aren’t the same, it argues.
Sam is human.
It is not.
But that’s not true, not anymore.
… It had changed Sam too, back when they met.
And he never stopped changing, not like the others did. Far smaller at first.
Sam had only grown more, and more as the years passed, growing in size until he encompassed the entire earth, until he looked much like itself.
“… I did this.”
It realised.
“I hurt you”.
It had thought that it wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone, if it just kept to itself.
But unknowingly, even its thoughts had managed to continue changing those it thought of.
“I am sorry.”
It despairs, guilt welling up.
Even when it tried not to, it could only hurt those it encountered.
“Don’t be.”
Sam squeezes it gently, one of his many tendrils curling around one of its comfortingly.
Sam it seems, had adjusted just fine to his new form.
He’d had time to, after their meeting.
He was… happy, even.
He talked, of the people he talked to, the people of earth, all the friends he had made, thanks to his new body.
“… I could show you.”
He offers.
“That would not be a good idea.”
It wants to argue.
They both know what it does to the things it observes.
“No, no, that’s not what I meant.”
Sam only seems to laugh.
It sounds strange.
It hadn’t heard laughter before, had it?
And yet, the joyous sound warmed something within it.
Sam offers again.
“Let me be your eyes.”
“… I won’t hurt anyone?”
“You won’t. I promise.”
And Sam, Sam shows it what has become of Earth, seen through his eyes, their synapses dancing together like a myriad of stars.
And… it’s beautiful.
Sam had completely covered the earth, tenderly holding in it in his grasp, and the life that roamed its surface thought of him as a friend, speaking to tendrils that sprouted like trees with affection.
Life had flourished under his care.
It drinks it all in hungrily, looking without fear for the first time.
“… See? We’re all doing fine now.”
“…”
It cannot bring itself to utter a single word, too captivated by the scenery Sam is showing it.
It’s… strange.
The vantage points he shows it are from so low down.
It makes it feel so small, the humans it sees feel so big, towering over it.
Was this how the humans had felt, back then, countless years ago, as they stared up at it?
Had they felt that small, that tiny, that… insignificant too?
Sam gives it a gentle, comforting nudge, coiling around even more.
At this point, it wouldn’t be possible to know where one started, and the other ended, coiled so tightly that they look as if they were one.
“It’s alright.”
Sam says.
“I’m here.”
And he is, the two simply basking in each others company.
It had been alone for a long, long time.
But now?
It would never be alone again.