Chapter Text
Ever since he woke up, his dreams always start the same.
He can hear the roar of the waves in the distance while the heat of the sun beats down on his shoulders. The cool breeze helps ward off some of the heat, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Like clockwork, he can hear a voice call to him in the distance. It always shouts the same nickname. He can only assume it stands for ‘Ryland’, which the Hail Mary continues to call him. At first, the dreams ended before he could find the source of the voice, but now, a child comes into view.
“Come on Ry! Just one time!” the child pleads while tugging on his arm. His hair clings to his forehead while a blue foam board is tucked securely underneath the other arm.
“Fine.” He hears himself huff in a much younger voice. “Just one time, that’s it!”
The kid beams at him before yanking him up and tossing him a bright yellow foam board.
Sometimes, his dream ends there. Other times, he can feel the rock of the waves in his limbs, and the coolness of the water. Salt stings his eyes, but only briefly. He almost feels weightless, with the wave rushing him to shore. He barely registers his shrieks before the kid wraps him in a big hug. It's only in these fleeting moments that he realizes he's as small as the kid.
“See? I told you!” The kid shouts in his ear.
“It was still scary!” He hears himself say.
“So? It was fun too!”
The dream never extends beyond that, no matter how much he tries to sleep.
-
He notices something odd the second time he rummages through the packed squares labeled “Grace”. Almost all his shirts had the letters “RG” on them, written in sharpie. Only three items strayed from this, two jackets and the fox cardigan, which had no tag. He could only assume the cardigan was handmade by the yarn ends weaved in through the stitching inside. The other jackets, however, had the letters “CG” on the tag. One was a navy blue hoodie, which was bare except for “Fall Guy Stunts” embroidered in white on the edge of the hood. A worn out book, labeled “Star Trek” is hidden in one of the pockets, but he tosses it back in the square without much thought.
The other was a black and pink leather jacket with “Miami Vice Stunt Team” printed on the back. Was he a stunt man? He didn’t seem fit for one, and the initials didn’t match his other science-related clothes. He knows his name is Ryland, but did he have a middle name? A nickname?
There’s no one to tell him otherwise, so he uses both jackets when the Hail Mary feels colder than normal.
When he figures out how to use the screen room, technically labeled the “Don’t Go Crazy” room, he can’t pull his eyes away from the digital beach setting. It feels all too familiar, and yet totally foreign. He can feel his chest tighten the more the roar of the waves echoes in his ears, and tears fall before he can register them.
That night, he falls asleep there with the leather jacket, and lets the waves carry him to sleep.
-
The next time Ryland wakes up on the shore, it’s much different from the shorelines in his other dreams. It’s much cooler than before, and the sun hangs differently in the sky. His knees are tucked close to his chest while his arms wrap around them. He feels himself trembling, but he knows it isn’t from the breeze. A tight wetsuit clings tightly to him, and he tries not to focus on it constricting his chest.
“It’s a lot colder than Florida.” He mumbles, slightly turning his head to the figure sitting next to him. His voice hitches between octaves, and he has to clear his throat. When his eyes focus, he seems a mirror image of himself, only the mirror is sitting cross-legged, two surfboards on his side, and wears a resolute expression.
“It is,” The figure agrees. “But it has better waves.”
“You’re really not gonna let this go, huh?”
“Just one time Ry, that’s all I’m asking.”
His chest trembles along with his hands, and he squeezes his fists tightly.
“Fine. Just one time.”
The scene plays out in a similar way. He gets pulled to his feet, only this time he’s taller. The figure gives him one of the boards, and guides him to the water. Ryland tries to focus more on the adhesive wax of the board to steady his hands, but it doesn’t help much.
As the two get deeper into the water, Ryland follows the figure’s movements and ducts beneath the cold, rushing waves. When he turns around to see how far they’ve gone from shore, his teeth start to chatter again.
“Colt!” He shouts. “It’s too far!”
The figure turns around, makes note of the shoreline, then pedals back to Ryland.
“Just a little further,” he promises. “The best waves are there.”
Ryland can feel his eyes start to water, and all he wants to do is curl up on his board to hide the swell of emotion, but the figure, Colt, doesn’t waver.
“I’ll be right here.” He adds. “I promise. Just one wave, and then we can race back.”
Ryland closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in, taking in the salt air, and breathes out. I’ve done this before, He tells himself. This is practically muscle memory.
“It’s all muscle memory.” Colt agrees, as if he could read his mind.
“I really hate when you do that.” Ryland says as he opens his eyes. “It’s kinda creepy.”
A bright smile lights up Colt’s face. “It’s easy when it’s written all over your face.”
In the end, Colt is right. When Colt turns his board around to follow the current, Ryland follows suit and his board tips downward as the wave roars up. His heart lurches inside his chest, but he hauls himself to his feet regardless. He hears Colt shout with excitement as he steadies himself on his board, his fingertips lightly grazing the wave. Ryland flails a bit to keep his balance, and he can’t help but giggle as the tight knot in his chest looses. It’s the closest he’ll ever get to soaring, and he loves every second of it.
As the wave dies down, Ryland leaps from his board and does a haphazard dive into the water, smiling from ear to ear. When he surfaces, Colt helps him steady his surfboard and slaps his back. Ryland can see “what did I say?” written all over Colt’s expression, but it’s never said. It doesn’t need to be, not when the waves ripple with excitement and the sun soars above them.
He rides wave after wave with Colt until he wakes again.
-
A new question is added to Ryland’s whiteboard: “Who is Colt?”
Ryland doesn’t get much time to figure it out before he arrives at Tau Ceti and meets Rocky. It’s only when he begins logging his discoveries that something stirs in his mind. He continues to rant about how he and Rocky are learning how to communicate to the camera provided on the Hail Mary, when his brain conjures up a familiar phrase.
“I can’t believe I’m the one to officially make first contact!” He exclaims. “Yes, the astrophage was technically first contact, but this is the first time coming into contact with an intelligent life form. From what I can get from him, he’s from Erid, like-”
He halts. His brain had provided the planet “Vulcan”, but his gut instinct tells him there’s no such thing.
“First contact...” He says again. “First contact. Why is that ringing a bell?”
Something clicks in his body before his brain can catch up, and he’s running to the packaging squares scattered about the ship. When he finds the one labeled “Grace”, he doesn’t bother unzipping it properly and nearly rips it open. Hidden inside was the worn out book titled “Star Trek” with the phrase “First Contact” printed in yellow below. When he opens the cover, written on the top left corner is “If lost, return to Ryland Grace” in pen, and added in pencil underneath is “or Colton Grace”.
His heart is pounding in his ears when he notices corners sticking out from different sections of the book. As he continues to skim through the book, photo after photo of him and man nearly identical to him is revealed.
The first photo is of two kids in a parking lot, with a “First Day of School” sign in between them. The following photo is the kids again, a little older, with pillowcases of candy in their hands. One wears a bright yellow shirt, while the other wears a similar red one. On the corner of the photo, written neatly in sharpie is “Captain Ryland Grace & First Officer Colton Grace”.
The next photo is of the two in graduation robes and caps, both with national honor society stoles and bright smiles. Ryland nearly drops the photo behind it once his eyes land on it. The man wears the same black and pink leather jacket he has hanging by the Don’t Go Crazy room, while Ryland wears another set of graduation robes, this time with an added colorful stole on the back.
Ryland can barely see through his blurry vision by the time he reaches the final two photos. For once, he is grateful he wears glasses, for they catch the teardrops as they slide down his eyelashes. He is in another set of graduation robes, this time blue and yellow are designed throughout the robe, and he wears a doctoral tam. The same man stands next to him, this time in a full suit and tie, with his brightly highlighted hair combed neatly. They both give the camera a thumbs up.
The last photo is of the two of them, both in dark wetsuits and surfboards underneath one arm. The other man has his arm lopped around the back of Ryland's neck, and Ryland’s arm is looped around his.
It's as if someone had taken a sledgehammer right into Ryland's chest. Something in his chest cracks, though when his hand comes up to check, there is nothing but the texture of his shirt. His breath catches in his lungs, and his chest stutters in response. Tears continue to stream down his face, and have no sign of stopping.
He doesn't realize he's wailing until he hears the echo bounce off the metal walls of the Hail Mary and back to him. It is a pain unlike anything he's ever known, and nothing, not even the extra pack of vodka stowed away somewhere on the ship, could dampen it.
All he can do is lay down on the frigid, metal ground and weep until his voice is hoarse and his body cannot supply any more tears.
-
Who is Colt? Colton Grace - twin brother?
Why did I leave him?