Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

[ LIFE 476 ] 
[ NAME: SOLANA ] 
[ PLAY / PAUSE ] 


Tangent had always hated her body. She hated her weakness, hated her flesh and bones, hated how it sagged and failed to combat sickness, hated how even her genetic mutation couldn’t keep the need to sleep at bay. She hated the body she was born in, hated the one she changed into, hated that she was human. She hated that she cared about stupid things, hated that she needed extra care and time just to feel even marginally at home in her body. She hated how hard it was to feel competent, hated that even though she was smart, much smarter than most kids around her, she was still treated like an idiot. 

When she was younger, going by the wrong name and the wrong pronouns, she used to think that all her problems would be fixed the moment she and Instance managed to change her body. She used to believe that once everything was right with her, everything would be right in the world. All the time spent away in the Medbay and away from the other kids caused a halt in her social development and an interest in sciences; but of course, Instance being Instance, nurtured this growth instead of discouraging it. (“ I’m glad to see that at least some of the youth these days is interested in the right fields, ” she’d said, “ science is an important part of living, especially on unknown planets. ”) The ringing endorsement from someone as close and important as the Chief Engineer only solidified Tangent’s interest in science and overall disinterest in other people.

After the whole process had been completed, Tangent was disappointed to learn that she still hated her body. Yes, it was a lot more right , and before it had been a lot more wrong , but it still wasn’t what she wanted. It was too weak. Too human . Too susceptible to illness and exhaustion, bone-deep and terrible. Some part of her had started an interest in biology and biochemical research in order to find a way to further mutate her body; to implant so many genetic differences that she could hardly be counted as human. Part of her just wanted to be a machine; as uncomplicated as possible, unfeeling, just a perfect being capable of achieving anything and everything. All the other parts of her knew that kind of dream was impossible, but it didn’t stop her from reading all the science books available on the Stratospheric. (This new-found interest in science had also gained her a friend; the girl with the intelligence enhancement, Solana. She was often in the library reading every book she found, not just the science and math related ones.) 

Solana was, for all intents and purposes, the perfect friend. There wasn’t much competition, and Tangent didn’t have anyone else to weigh her against, but she also couldn’t ask for a better one. There was something in Solana that just understood all that Tangent was. She offered mental challenges, kept her on her toes, and always made sure that Tangent was taking care of herself. Usually, Tangent saw that kind of behaviour as patronizing, but Solana’s care was much less head-first than everyone else's. Instead of forcing Tangent to sleep, or asking if she’d eaten anything, Solana would bring an extra pillow into the library as an option, or leave a snack bar here or there if Tangent ever felt hungry. It was the type of care that made Tangent feel like she had control over it, instead of being forced into it. It felt nice to be cared for in that way. 

When they reached eleven, Tangent immediately started noticing the signs of discomfort on Solana’s face. The way she frowned at the other kids, mainly the girls, the way she kept staring at herself in reflective surfaces, the way her eyes were automatically drawn to passages about gender reaffirming care. She would purse her lips around her parents, as if debating telling a secret, and seemed more self-conscious and unsociable as of late. She looked exactly like Tangent, all those years ago, before she was given the body she wanted, the name she wanted, and the pronouns she wanted. I know those feelings, she thought, watching Solana from across the room, I should help. The next time she saw Solana in the library, they read in silence. Solana kept fidgeting with her sleeves, and Tangent did her best to ignore it, reading into genetic engineering and nuclear physics. She wondered if Solana had figured it out yet. 

The next time Tangent saw her, she was standing outside Instance’s office, her mouth pressed into a line and her hand raised, poised to knock. Tangent stopped in the hallway, and watched her for a moment, before she continued. Her footsteps startled Solana.

“Oh, hey Tang,” she said, her voice nervous. “What’s up?” Her hand lowered from the door. Tangent gave her a little wave.

“I’m on my way to the lab,” she said, “Instance is letting me do a mini experiment about the predicted conditions of the planet we’re going to.” Solana nodded along, wringing her hands together like she wasn’t really listening.

“Sounds cool,” she said, “um, I’m just…” She trailed off as if she couldn’t think up an excuse. Tangent wasn’t the most patient person, but she scrounged up a few moments of it for her best and only friend.

“Waiting to see the chief?” She guessed. Solana chuckled.

“Uh, yeah,” she said awkwardly, “that.” There was another moment of silence before Solana breathed out a breath she must have been holding for years and years, the kind that preceded a confession, or a secret, or a promise. “Tang,” she said, “I don’t think I’m a girl.” Tangent felt a smile creep onto her face.

“Oh yeah?” She prompted, “what are you then?” 

“I don’t really know,” she said, “I don’t feel like a boy either.” Tangent hummed.

“Somewhere in between?” She asked. Solana nodded.

“Something like that. Does this change anything between us?” Tangent scoffed. Part of her was glad that everybody seemed to have forgotten that she wasn’t always a girl. 

“Of course not,” she said, offended. Then, “do you have a preferred name? Pronouns?” Solana perked up.

“Sol,” the name was spoken like a breath of fresh air, with the tone of relief and the satisfaction of hearing it, “and…they, I guess.” Sol straightened up.

“Well, Sol,” said Tangent, “are you here to talk to Instance about making some alterations to your physical form?” They nodded their head, looking a little relieved.

“So, it’s possible?” They asked, a grin lighting up their face.

“For all your research and aced tests, you certainly are a little stupid,” said Tangent, “of course it’s possible. Now, why don’t we knock on that door together, and get your treatment underway?” Sol nodded, and Tangent thought that they looked more like themselves than they had in all the years she’d known them. 

Sol was the only person, besides Instance and Hal, that could keep up with her. They’d landed on Vertumna last year, and ever since, it felt like they were fighting to see who could discover the most in the shortest amount of time. They were pretty evenly matched; both had an insatiable thirst for knowledge and augments that helped them learn and study. The only difference was the fact that Sol’s intelligence was boosted through tampering with human genetics, and Tangent’s was natural. They attended the same amount of classes (biology, engineering, robotics, and mathematics), and they were both allowed to work in the lab alongside Instance, who had grown a fondness for both of them through their extended time spent in the Medbay in their youth. (Though, she was considerably more fond of Tangent, who had grown to somewhat fill the role of her child. Sol felt more like a niece or a nephew.) 

They were, for lack of a better term, lab partners. Best friends and rivals, people who trusted each other under any circumstances, and were somehow always on each other's wavelength. They understood each other like no one else, and had many of the same behaviours; some people had even said that Sol was more like Tangent’s sibling than Dys was. (Tangent felt a little uncomfortable about that notion, but at the end of the day, accepted it. It wasn’t like she was that close with Dys anyway.) 

As they grew up, they only got closer. Sometimes, it felt like Sol was the only person Tangent could trust, and the only person that would understand when Tangent broke down and talked about how much she hated her body.

“It’s not just my gender,” said Tangent, “I’m happy with that the way I am. I’m a girl, simple as that. It’s the fact that I’m human . Too human, sometimes. Sometimes, I wish I was a Hopeye, or something. Can you imagine only needing to do one thing your entire life? Being happy with that one thing?” They were on one of their walks around the colony, something they often did together to get some fresh air and bounce ideas off each other. Tangent gestured to Anemone. “At least, I want to be like the normal kids. You know? Like, they all know what they want to be. Anemone’s always been a fighter, and she’s always going to be a fighter. She’s happy with that, she wants to be that. She’s not uncomfortable in her body.” She pointed to Cal. “Cal is always going to want to work in Geoponics, he loves the feeling of dirt under his fingernails. Can you imagine being that happy over something so mundane?” Sol walked beside her, listening, but not interrupting; by now, they knew to wait until Tangent was done with her rant.

“Stars, I wish I could be someone else.” Sol tilted their head.

“You’re a scientist,” they pointed out, “you’ll always be a scientist. You love discovering things. You love experiments. You’re content with that, if not happy. What makes you different from them?” Tangent huffed a breath.

“Do I though?” She asked, “maybe it’s just the thing I’m used to. Maybe I don’t actually want to be a scientist. Maybe I’ve just been setting myself up for failure this whole time.” Sol frowned.

“Tang, if you didn’t love science, you wouldn’t be devoting your life to it.”

“What if I’m just trying to justify how I spent my childhood? You know, my interest in science only began out of self-hatred. I just wanted to know if there was a way to separate myself from this body, this… prison that I’m tethered to. It spiralled into something else, and now, sometimes it just feels like I’m stuck in place. But by now, science is all I’m good at.” Sol frowned a little harder.

“If something else was calling to you, socials, or languages, or arts, or whatever, you would have started learning it by now,” they pointed out, “you’re smart enough to know that eleven is not when you have to have everything figured out. Dad told me that, back on Earth, people would change their main course of study on average three times because they settled on something, and all those people were like. Twenty-one. You have time to find something else if you truly believe that you don’t actually enjoy science.” Tangent let that sit in the air for a moment, before she breathed out.

“You’re right,” she said, “as always.” Sol hummed, and they spent a few minutes in silence, letting that conversation settle before bringing anything else up.

“Maybe you just need a break,” they suggested, “if you take some time away from the lab, you might come back with more energy to enjoy what you’re working on again.” Tangent scoffed.

“And have you pull ahead of me? No way, Sol.” Sol chuckled.

“If it bothers you that much, I’ll take that break with you.” Tangent kicked a rock and watched as it skittered against the dirt for a few feet.

“What would we even do?” She asked. Sol shrugged.

“I don’t know,” they said, “watch some movies? Read some books? Go on more walks? Maybe we can do one of those stupid self-indulgent experiments we used to do back on the Stratospheric. Or, if you don’t want to do that, we can give all the Vertumna species we’ve found so far silly names.”

“Why would we do that?” Tangent asked, skeptical. Sol shrugged again, a little sheepishly.

“For fun?” They offered, “and it makes everything feel a little bit more like they’re ours , you know? This is our home, after all, shouldn’t it feel like it?” She weighed the options in her head, and was surprised to find that half of her really wanted to take a break. The other half of her screamed at her to get back to the lab already.

“You know what?” She said as they entered the doors to the science building, “I might just take you up on that offer. What would we name the Hopeyes?” Sol grinned at her, their smile as infectious as it always was.

“What about Eyesaurs?” They joked. Tangent snorted a laugh.

Tangent wasn’t always the best at taking care of herself. According to Marz, said rather crudely, she sucked at it. Like, majorly. Her augment allowed her to get by with only a couple hours of sleep per night, but most people around her could tell that it still took a toll on her. Her research always got sloppier towards the end of her energy reserves, and she’d get crankier and crankier as the day dragged on; something that was noticed by everyone, including the other Strato kids, and even Chief Instance. At first, Instance had just said that she needed to get used to her lowered sleep levels and better maintain a proper schedule so her body would know when to release melatonin and force her into rest. After a couple weeks of Tangent following that schedule, though things had gotten marginally better, there wasn’t that much of a noticeable difference. She was still cranky, her notes still got a little sloppy, and oftentimes towards the end of her natural cycle, she looked dead on her feet. 

Sol, who had no such qualms with sleep levels and carefully crafted sleep schedules, often tried to fight Tangent on how much sleep she should actually be getting per night. 

“I know that you don’t need as much as we do,” they reasoned, “but that doesn’t mean that you should stretch the limitations of your body. Scientifically, the rest of us require at least eight hours of sleep per night to maintain proper health, and we experience the repercussions of ignoring that fact after actually sleeping for less than that required amount. You’ve seen me after all nighters and consecutive days of minimal sleep, and it wasn’t pleasant for either of us. The same thing is happening to you, and you should either get your sanctioned recommended hours of sleep, or schedule regular power naps throughout your day to make up for the hours you lose.” But, like Tangent, who was stubborn and really didn’t want to be pulled away from the lab, she always argued with them no matter how tired she actually was.

“Sol,” she would say, “for the last time, I’m fine. Let me work in peace, would you?” Sol would open their mouth for another bout of rebuttals, but would ultimately fall silent under the glare of Chief Instance; who, even though she cared for Tangent, would always take the scientific and working side of the argument. 

“She hasn’t shown any signs of being unable to function without the designated hours of sleep,” lectured Instance, “if she says she’s fine, then she’s fine.” 

But, like Sol, they never gave up for long. It usually resulted in a series of pranks and tricks that ended up with Tangent stuck in various rooms with a pillow and a pile of blankets. Every time she ended up in one of those empty rooms, abandoned classrooms or storage closets, or even the Medbay a few times, she complained, groaned, sent Sol a lot of vaguely threatening messages via Holopalm, and then gave into rest and made up all the hours of sleep she’d missed. This kind of forced sleep was, begrudgingly, appreciated when Tangent realized how much easier it was to draw conclusions after a night of rest; and even though she spat insults at Sol’s smug face (insults she didn’t really mean), they both knew that she was grateful for the interventions. 

It seemed like, sometimes, Tangent just needed someone to tell her no . She’d been stuck in a life of science, discovery, and various people telling her yes, Tangent, neglect your personal health because it doesn't seem to be causing you any harm and you’re doing very good work for the colony. She’d go along with that, mostly because science was her lifeblood, but part of her wanted someone to finally say no . And usually, the one person she could rely on for that no was Sol. 

“Give me the stimulants,” demanded Tangent, her tone snippy, “I’m just getting a little drowsy but I can not stop monitoring this experiment. It cost us too many resources, and I’m not about to let all of that go to waste.” Sol continued to hide the bottle of pills behind them, shaking their head.

“No, Tangent,” they said, and those were the words they both needed to hear, “it’ll be no good if you get addicted to this stuff at this age. If you really need someone to keep an eye on it for you, you can either explain what you’re doing to me, or I can go get Instance for you.” Logically, they both knew that Instance would side with Tangent; it was a given, considering that they were both chronic workaholics who sometimes took dangerous and addictive stimulants to keep themselves crowding around their lab equipment. But Tangent was genuinely feeling drowsy, feeling as if she could fall to the ground at any moment, and instead of mentioning that Sol’s solution was very one-sided, she just grumbled and sent her notes to Sol’s Holopalm. 

“You better not mess it up,” she threatened, but only half of her heart was in it. Sol hummed and led her to one of the beds in the Medbay, helping her settle in and watching as she set her alarm for half an hour.

They waited another couple of minutes until they were absolutely sure Tangent was asleep before they crept a little closer and changed the timer from half an hour to an hour and a half. Then, they crept back to the lab and started reading over her notes, praying to both the Vertumna suns that they’d understand the notes and be able to properly monitor whatever experiment Tangent was running. (Luckily, they’d grown fluent in the language of Tangent’s complex and, at times, incoherent note-taking, and managed to get a firm grasp on the experiment. When she woke up an hour and a half later, disoriented and a little agitated that it was much later than she anticipated, she was placated when she found out that Sol had concluded her experiment for her.) 

“I think I want to be a doctor,” said Sol one day, their legs dangling off the roof of the science building. “I like working in the Medbay. It feels kinda like a second home, and I like helping people.” Tangent hummed, her eyes facing the sky as she took in the pink-ish sky. 

“I don’t really know what I want to be,” she noted idly, “I just want to keep experimenting and discovering things about this planet. I think that’s a profession in itself, right?” Sol nodded, offering her a small smile.

“Yeah,” they agreed, “but is that a researcher or a scientist? Maybe you do, like, everything under the science umbrella.” Tangent scoffed.

“I doubt it,” she said, “there’s a lot of things to do with science. And I am not a doctor, for one. That’s more in your job description.” Sol laughed a little.

“You sound like Instance,” they noted, “all defensive about healthcare not being your job.” Tangent rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too.

“We can pitch in when we need to,” she said, “but it’s not something we want to be doing. Most of the injuries people are getting recently are just from plain old stupidity.” 

“You can say that again,” huffed Sol, “the other day Tammy came in for a papercut she got while folding origami swans for the kids in the creche.” 

“She couldn’t have just put a bandaid on it?” Asked Tangent incredulously. 

“I guess not,” answered Sol, “it was bleeding a lot though, so it really freaked her out.” 

“You could have just turned her away,” she pointed out, despite knowing that Sol would never turn away someone in pain.

“I like how you think I’m capable of turning anyone away,” Sol said, “least of all Tammy. There’s just something about the way she looks when she’s distressed that makes me want to wrap her in bubble wrap and keep her in the creche where it’s safe.” Tangent laughed again, a little louder.

“Only Tammy,” she said, “she has that effect on everyone, I think. Well, everyone except Marz. If you want to be a doctor, you’ll probably be dealing with Tammy’s papercuts for years.” 

“Ah, yes,” commented Sol sarcastically, “exactly what I envisioned when I went through the week of certification training.” 

They spent a couple of minutes in silence, just enjoying the light breeze and the twin sunsets, before Tangent eventually broke it.

“Lum’s got me working on something big,” she said quietly, “and it’s kind of making me wish I wasn’t me.” Sol tilted their head, turning to glance at her. Her eyes were fixed on the sky, not even glancing towards them.

“What do you mean?” They asked, curious. Tangent sighed.

“It’s a…tall order. I don’t know how I feel about it, but sometimes, whenever I’m working on it, I wish I was someone else. Someone who wasn’t smart enough to make something like that, someone who didn’t have the skills he was looking for. I just want it all to stop. I mean, I have a mother who killed herself and an overly sensitive brother who’s more interested in whatever’s outside the walls than his own family. I guess what I’m getting at it…Sometimes, I just wish I wasn’t human.” Sol shifted, drawing their legs back up the side of the building, and leaned back until they were facing the sky with Tangent.

“I get it,” they said after a couple seconds. They didn’t say anything else for a moment. Then, “Lum can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to. I know that sometimes it feels like he can do anything he wants, but you have people in your corner. And if he’s threatening you, or something, you can always blackmail him with whatever it is he’s forcing you to do, right? So, it’s not the end of the world.” Tangent opened her mouth to respond, but Sol beat her to it. “And you don’t have to tell me what it is that’s got you so worked up,” they said, “some things are for you to know and me to wonder about.”

Tangent had never had an equation she couldn’t solve. She’d always been able to do the math, the science, whatever was required, to accurately predict the outcome of any scenario. She was smart, she was competent, and she knew how to get things done. She knew what was necessary, and she knew that some things were completely out of her control. She knew that she had to work on this virus, this genocide, in order to protect Instance from Lum. To protect herself from Lum, and by extension, to protect Sol. She’d never seen an equation she couldn’t solve. Sol won’t let me kill them, she thought, Sol will have a solution. Sol can convince me otherwise. And so she told Sol, she told them about the threat on Instance’s life, the threat on her own life, and the virus primed to wipe out all life on Vertumna from the tiny and harmless Hopeye to the biggest and ugliest Faceless. Tell me no, she begged, please tell me no. For all the years she’d known Sol, all the years they’d bonded, all the years they’d spent in the lab together, Tangent calculated the outcome of this conversation and came to the conclusion that Sol would put an end to the would-be genocide. For the first time in her life, she miscalculated. 

“You’re doing the right thing,” said Sol, instead of the denial Tangent desperately wanted, “think about how many lives it’ll save.” Their eyes were crazed. She’d long since learned how to read Sol’s eyes, their expressions, every stress line and crinkle. Tang, their eyes were saying, I can’t lose another person. Tangent’s stomach dropped to her feet. Guilt settled deep in her soul, weighing on her shoulders, and she pursed her lips. Oh, stars, she thought, it really must be the right thing then. Sol wouldn’t lie to her. Sol knew better than that. Sol was a doctor, Sol was a researcher, Sol was a saviour, Sol knew what was best for the colony and the people within it. If Sol said it was okay, that it was for the better, than it probably was. And so Tangent did what Tangent did best; pushed away her own feelings, compartmentalized everything until they fit into tiny little boxes, and threw herself back into her work. She ignored how she soul ached, shoved the agony aside, and ignored how she could feel the sins of the impending genocide weighing her down. She ignored how her hands shook, stayed up later and later, and tried not to feel anything as the virus was completed. She gave Sol one last glance before she presented it to Lum, one last chance to fix everything. Sol’s face was grim, their expression set, conviction and determination and a hint of mania. 

Not everybody could afford to be objective. The human heart holds sympathy for that which it shouldn’t, Tangent thought, trying to be rid of her sorrow, and I am just another victim of it . Part of her wished she could be as uncaring as Sol. Another part of her fought to protect the humanity it took to feel sympathy for these animals, and as the plague she’d created spread all across the planet, she finally let herself feel . 

The planet she had grown to love, no matter how dangerous and unknown, crumbled to dust beneath her hands. Oh stars, she wept, I’m sorry.

[ END OF MEMORY ]
[ REPLAY: YES / NO ]

Chapter Text

[ LIFE 147 ] 

[ NAME: SOL ] 

[ PLAY / PAUSE ] 

Tammy believed in true love. It was no different than believing in aliens, and Tammy lived on an alien planet full of new discoveries; and amongst her family and friends, she had already found her one and only. His name was Cal, and he was the reason she believed in fairy tales. He had forest-green hair and earthy brown eyes, a smile as gentle as sunbeams, and rough little calluses from working in Geoponics, even as a three-year-old. She remembered loving him far before she even knew what love was. She was drawn to him in the same way a fairy was drawn to flowers, or dragons to gold; there was magic in the air, and it drew her to Cal. 

“I’m gunna marry him,” she proclaimed one day, cheek resting in the palm of her hand as she gazed at him from across the room. Tonin, who had eyebags and a thin smile from hours and hours of looking after the kids, just softened a little. His eyes darted between Tammy and Cal, Cal and Tammy, before he reached down to ruffle her hair. It thoroughly messed up her braids. She remembered having to redo them in the bathroom afterwards.

“Are you?” He asked teasingly, looking at his daughter, adoring and soft, just as he always was, “what makes you say that?” Tammy huffed at her ruined hair, swatting her dads hand away.

“I love him,” she said, “you said you married mom because you loved her, so I’m gunna marry Cal!” Tonin just ruffled her hair again, dodging around her attempt to ward him off.

“Well, sugarplum, marriage is for when you’re older,” he said, “and don’t love too early, alright?” Tammy frowned, her lower lip jutting out.

“So, I can’t marry him?” She asked in a low, wobbly voice. She seemed to have ignored or just not heard the back half of his sentence. That wasn’t really a problem; it was something he would repeat to her until she understood what he meant. Tonin shook his head.

“No,” he said, “at least, not yet.” Immediately, Tammy burst into tears. 

“But I wanna marry Cal!” She cried, her voice raising into a wail. A couple of the surrounding adults, mainly Anemone’s mom and Marz’s dads, chuckled in her direction and shared a tired look with Tonin. There was something in their eyes that spelled trouble, the kind that Tonin knew was going to influence his daughter’s life in one way or another, and stars, he really needed to get her to stop crying. He, exasperated, desperately tried to shush her into lowering her volume; Fluorescent had just put her daughter, Sol, down for a nap, and he would never hear the end of it if Tammy woke her. 

“Tammy, darling, you can marry Cal when you’re older,” he said, hoping that she’d be reasonable, “but just not yet.” If anything, her crying just got worse. “There’s plenty of other things you can do together until that day,” he reassured, “tell you what.” That was always his opening for a perfectly reasonable compromise, so Tammy quieted down enough to properly hear what he had to say. She was manipulative like that. “What if I asked Cal’s mom if he can watch a movie with you, just the two of you, and you spend some time together, as friends?” He really hoped that Tammy wouldn’t realize that she could do that by herself. Thankfully, the mind of a three-year-old isn’t the most logical.

“And I can marry Cal later?” Tammy threw in as an extra term. She didn’t define ‘later,’ so Tonin figured he was in the clear to agree to that and take it to mean ‘in 18 years.’ 

“Yeah, Sugarplum, you can.” Her tears dried up almost immediately, and her sunshine smile was back, and Sol hadn’t woken up from her nap, so Tonin counted it as a win. The day after, people started teasing them about marriage and fairytales, and Tammy felt justified in her feelings. (The teasing started, and Tonin felt a stab of worry; ever since then, he tried his best to make every lesson he taught her about love count. Nobody else seemed to think it was a big deal.)

The repercussions of that teasing hit them years later, at thirteen. Tammy still believed in true love, Cal was still everything she wanted, and Sol was worming her way into their life. It started with the friendship bracelets, and then suddenly, Tammy was worrying about losing her one true love. She tried not to feel bitter, but it was hard. Years and years of being told she and Cal were perfect together had solidified into a shield around their relationship. Tammy was a pushover, and she could let many people have anything they wanted, but Cal was the one thing that was hers. Her Prince Charming, not Sol’s, and not anyone else's. She hated being possessive. She hated being jealous. She hated that she couldn’t see Sol and Cal as just friends , and that was probably what hurt the most. 

She liked Sol. She really did. She liked the colour of her hair when it caught in the sun, liked her enthusiasm and the way she would play dolls with her even though it was childish, she liked the way she threw her herself into everything she did– but a bitter feeling simmered in the base of Tammy’s stomach every time she saw them together. Jealousy, she knew, I’m jealous. She hated being jealous. She hated it even more when she realized that the exact opposite of her worries was what was actually happening. Sol did not have a crush on Cal; Sol was simply just a friend who had his best interest at heart, and Tammy’s by association. Sol was just the kid who had the third friendship bracelet. Sol wasn’t a heartbreaker, wasn’t a flirt, didn’t even seem interested in other people. It was Cal . It was Cal who always seemed to smile at her for a second too long, it was Cal who kept stealing glances at her from across the room, and it was Cal who gave her little flowers from Geoponics and tried every joke in the book to make her laugh. It was Cal who had a crush on Sol , and not the other way around. 

She pretended it didn’t hurt. She pretended it didn’t burn. She could be protective over their relationship, could defend it with bow and arrow and enchanted swords, but she could never pick and choose who Cal was allowed to be friends with. She might have been bitter, she might have been jealous, she might have been hurt and heartbroken and all those things; but Cal deserved to have nice things. Good things. And Cal deserved to fall in love, even if it wasn’t with her. And maybe Sol didn’t love him back, at least, not in the same way, but this just felt like a precursor for something more . Something that might blossom and bloom into a relationship, one that ended in a house and kids and a happily ever after, built right on top of the grave of Tammy’s dreams. But Cal deserved good things, Cal deserved to love who he wanted to love, and if that was the life he wanted, she would step aside without argument or question. She just wished she knew how to say goodbye without it hurting more. 

Cal loved gently. He loved sweet, he loved tender, he gave away every part of himself with the whisper and promise, the ask, the words ‘ lover, be good to me.’ He loved with his whole being, his soul, with the work he put in every day and the kind words he said. He was perfect in every way that mattered, so perfect that it hurt. And he liked Sol, and Tammy never thought her dad would be right when he said that the teasing wasn’t a good thing. Here they were, at thirteen, all in love with different people (or, in love with no one at all if you were Sol), and here were the first obstacles it posed. Cal’s eyes, usually so clear and affectionate, were cloudy and conflicted. Tammy could feel it in the way they flickered around the room, in the way they widened and narrowed, in the way they grew cold, then warm, then colder. His heartbeat, usually so strong and assured, was out of beat with the rest of him. He was out of tune with himself. Tammy couldn’t pinpoint the problem at first, but when there was something wrong with Cal, she would always find out. 

“Cal and Tammy sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Anemone ran circles around them, giggling and laughing, and Tammy felt a swoop in her stomach, just like she always did. She tried to stamp it out. She didn’t have any luck, and instead redirected her gaze to Cal, studying his reaction. His lips were pursed. His fists were clenched. His gaze was downcast. Oh, she thought, I understand. Cal had a crush on Sol. All his life, he was told he’d be with Tammy, be in love with Tammy, and here he was, crushing on Sol. Oh, she thought, I’m sorry. She wished she’d never brought up marriage at three. She wished she’d never played into every rumour passed from person to person, wished she’d never said the word love.  

Oh, she thought, you don’t have to be with me. She hoped he knew that. She hoped he could get over all the comments, as invalidating as they were, and love freely. She hoped he could see that love was not a suggestion. She wished she could be the one to take his hand and look him in the eye, and say all the right words for him to understand everything she’d never told him. But Tammy, Tammy who believed in true love, Tammy who was bitter and jealous, wanted to be selfish. I’ll talk to him tomorrow, she told herself. She never ended up bringing it up, and only watched as Cal tore himself apart in his love, drowning in it, wallowing in it, and wished desperately that she was brave enough to say something. Anything . 

At fourteen, Cal drew into himself. He wasn’t as happy, wasn’t as loud, wasn’t outside as often. His smile, usually bright as the twin suns of Vertumna, dimmed down to small and fragile. He looked emotionally frail. Nobody seemed to know what had happened, but Tammy knew. She could tell just by glancing at Sol, reading the guilt off of her face, reading the way she fidgeted with that third friendship bracelet as if she was debating if she had the right to wear it anymore. The events played themselves out in Tammy’s mind, fitting together like puzzle pieces, and she hated that part of her was relieved. She knew that Sol didn’t return Cal’s affections, and she knew that this would happen eventually, and yet, part of her was still relieved. She didn’t want to be happy over her love’s anguish. She wished her father was still around to help her work through all these emotions, these surges of protectiveness she’d get over a relationship that was never even real, but she was alone. She was alone, and she was relieved, and some part of her hated herself. And so, she did the only thing she could do: comfort Cal until his sobs turned to silence and his tears dried into stars. (She tried not to be bitter towards Sol, who had done nothing wrong. She hated how hard she found it.) 

Three years later, Tammy heard the words she’d always dreamed of hearing. She’d been seeing the signs for a while now, but she knew better than to hope. A fairytale lay dead at her feet, and she, the Princess who had escaped from the tower she’d locked herself in, stood in front of Cal, her everything , and waited for him to find the words she never said. 

“Tammy,” he started, and then paused. She knew what those flushed cheeks meant, she knew the nervous twitching of his fingers, knew the way he shifted from foot to foot. She’d seen it all before, all those nights spent agonizing over Sol, and part of her was worried that this wasn't real. Part of her worried that this was all those suggestions getting to him, that his love for her wasn’t true. She ignored that part of her. 

“Tammy,” he said again, “I think I love you .” Those three words. Those three words. Those three words. A pressure lifted off of her shoulders, and she felt her breath leave her in a second.

“Cal,” she said, warm and sure, “I love you too.” He smiled, his normal smile, the one that had gotten lost in rejection and the sea that was love, returned. It felt like the sun peeking through the clouds after a rainstorm, like the song that played sweetly over the radio, like the world was right again. She reached forward and took his hand, intertwining their fingers.

“So,” started Cal, “what now?” Tammy squeezed his hand, content to live in this moment for a little while longer.

“I don’t know,” she said, “I never really thought about what comes after.” Cal hummed, low in his throat, an acknowledgement, and squeezed her hand back. Tammy smiled. 

They started with the little things. Baking together, tending to the flowers, watching movies, holding hands, going for picnics; the little things that they used to do together as kids, but now with another layer of meaning . Now, it meant something whenever Cal bumped their knees together. It meant something when Tammy brushed his hair behind his ears. It meant something when they held hands, and it meant something when they smiled at each other. They started with the little things, and the little things felt like building blocks, foundation for something much larger. Held hands felt like bindings, every kiss shared was a promise, and every word they spoke was an oath of devotion. 

“I knew it!” Said Marz when she spotted them holding hands, “you really were meant for each other, huh?” It was said in a teasing way, said light, but settling heavy. An uncomfortable expression settled across Cal’s face and he tugged his hand away from Tammy’s. She felt her heart sink to her stomach. Oh, she thought, oh no. A fear, one she’d long since buried beneath her love, beneath her content, beneath her heart, resurfaced. What if none of it is real? Now, more than ever, she understood all those things her dad tried to teach her before he died. She locked eyes with Marz, her eyes begging her to drop it. With a frown, Marz’s mouth snapped shut, scrutinizing the couple before a look of understanding dawned in her eyes. A grimace had settled over her face, but the damage had already been done.

“I’ll catch you guys later,” she said, then ran away from the problem she had created shamelessly. Tammy turned to Cal, and opened her mouth to speak. Cal beat her to it.

“I have to go,” he said, “I have some errands to do that I forgot about.” Tammy frowned. You’re lying to me, she knew, I hate it when you do that. But she nodded along anyway, and let him turn on his heel and run, and tried not to think of it as him running away from their relationship. Fantasy, she thought, we are not a fantasy. We’re real. Does he know that?

She saw him speaking with Sol. Three years ago, two years ago, last year, it might have made her jealous. It might have sparked bitterness and the self-hatred that came with it, it might have triggered her flight-or-fight. Now, she was just concerned. Cal and Sol had worked out their differences through multiple hushed conversations and apologetic gifts, and now they’d worked their way back up to friends. Now, Cal went to Sol whenever he needed anything, from relationship advice (which Tammy secretly found hilarious considering that Sol wasn’t interested in relationships) to Geoponics questions. Now, Tammy knew that they were talking about love. Real Love, and Fantasy Love. As much as she wanted to join in on the discussion, she knew that some things were best discovered by the self. 

“It was different with you,” Cal was saying, “liking you was as easy as breathing. You pulled me in, like I was gravitating towards you, and all I wanted was to hold your hand.” Sol frowned. She looked a little uncomfortable, but Cal knew she would say something if she wanted him to stop talking. 

“What’s different with Tammy?” She asked, crossing her arms. Cal shrugged, feeling vulnerable. 

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, “I feel almost the same way when I’m with her, you know, my heart beats faster and I want to buy her pretty things and grow her flowers and take her on little picnic dates, I want to be the perfect boyfriend for her, but whenever other people are around, it just. It feels wrong. I don’t know how to explain it.” He took a seat on the ground, uncaring of how the soil would stain his pants later on. Sol flipped over one of the nearby buckets and sat down, her lips pursed.

“Do you think it has something to do with you, her, or other people?” She asked. Cal dropped his face into his hands

“I don’t know,” he said for the second time, “does it matter?” Sol huffed.

“Yeah,” she said, “if it’s not either of you, then it’s something other people are making you feel. Just give it a little bit of thought, okay? It’ll be easier to pin the problem.” There were a few moments of silence, Cal thinking it over and Sol waiting patiently for his answer.

“It’s not her,” he said eventually, “she could never be the problem. I don’t think it’s me, either.” Sol hummed her acknowledgement. 

“Well then,” she said, “it’s probably to do with all the teasing.” Cal tilted his head.

“What do you mean?” He asked. 

“Does the discomfort come after someone says anything about how you two ‘are perfect for each other’ or how they ‘knew you’d end up together?’” He thought about it for a second, then nodded. 

“I don’t understand,” he said, “why does that make me uncomfortable? If anything, it should do the opposite, right? I mean it made me really self-conscious when I had a crush on you, but that was because I felt like I was doing the wrong thing for simply liking someone who wasn’t Tammy. Now, I’m finally with her and fulfilling all these people’s expectations. I’m going with what they’ve always said.” Sol pursed her lips.

“That’s the problem,” she said, “you’ve always felt pressured that you had to end up with Tammy one way or another, and now your feelings for her are genuine. You genuinely love her, and some part of your subconscious is worried that your feelings, or hers, aren’t genuine. Some part of you realized that just because love has been suggested to you over and over, that doesn’t make it real. Does that make sense?” Cal nodded numbly. “Okay, good. So, you genuinely love Tammy, right?” He nodded again. “Then, you’re probably worried that she doesn’t genuinely love you. Is that sounding right?” 

“Yeah,” said Cal, somewhat dazy, “yeah that makes sense.” They sat in silence for another few moments, the sun beating down on their skin, before he stood up from his spot in the dirt and started brushing off the bits clinging to his shorts. Sol followed his lead and stood up from her spot on the bucket. “Hey, thanks for helping me work through this,” he said, “it means a lot.” Sol shook her head, giving Cal a small smile.

“No problem,” she said, “if you ever need any more help, I’m always open for you. Now, I think you need to go have a talk with Tammy.” 

Tammy was worried. She was very worried. Ever since Cal had come back from whatever conversation he’d ended up having with Sol, he’d been acting strange. He would still hold her hand, but his fingers felt stiff under hers. He was spacing out more, fidgeting with his sleeves, eyes darting back and forth between Sol and Tammy. Sol kept shooting him encouraging looks and various thumbs-up, but she had a look in her eyes as if she was preparing for the worst possible outcome. Oh, thought Tammy, oh no.  

They were spending some time together on a picnic the furthest away from everyone else as they could reasonably get when Tammy had had enough. 

“Cal,” she said gently, because she didn’t know how else to be, “what’s wrong?” Cal immediately let go of her hand, tensing up, his eyes widening.

“I–” He broke off into a deep breath. “I don’t know what you mean.” Tammy pursed her lips, her eyebrows furrowing. 

“Cal,” she said again, a little firmer, “what’s wrong?” There was a moment of silence in which both parties debated their next words before he eventually ended it with another deep breath. 

“Tammy, I just–” Cal broke off, his voice betraying him, shaking. She felt her heart drop to her feet, threatening to shatter. Every crack seemed to scream at the world, anguish and heartbreak, and she couldn’t help the feeling that this had happened all before. I don’t want to say goodbye, Tammy thought, trying to keep her heart off her sleeve, I don’t want you to leave.  

“I’m sorry,” said Cal, and Tammy waited for his next words with baited breath, “I’m saying all the wrong words.” There was silence for a moment, both of them trying to find the right words. Finally, Tammy took a breath.

“Cal,” she started, “are you breaking up with me?” She didn’t think she could take it if he beat around the bush. She didn’t want her heartbreak to go on for longer than it needed to. As she waited for his reaction, she tried her best to drop her expectations and prepare herself for disappointment. 

“What?” Asked Cal, and it sounded vaguely like an echo, horrified and panicking,“no, Tammy, I’m not– I would never!” Tammy let go of the breath she’d been holding, as her heart picked itself back up and began to beat again. The world was not ending, and Cal was not breaking up with Tammy. 

“Oh,” she whispered, relieved, “thank the stars.” It felt like she could breathe again, sucking air into her lungs. “What’s wrong, then?” 

She could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he kept shifting his weight from foot to foot, the nervous bite of his lip. Anxiety came off of him in waves, and if he wasn’t about to break up with her, why was he so nervous? Tammy didn’t let herself consider a proposal, they were far too young for all that yet , and Cal never really expressed a desire for marriage in the first place; so what were all the nerves for?

“Okay, Tammy, let me speak, okay? I might lose my nerve if I get interrupted, so just– Take some mental notes and bring it up with me after I’m finished, okay?” Tammy idly noted that he started and ended that sentence with the same word, and used it once in between; a testament to how nervous he truly was.

“Alright,” she said, agreeing, “take your time.” The ice in his eyes melted away to puddles, and she felt as if she could drown in them.

“Ever since we were young, everybody’s been pushing us together, and liking you– loving you, I mean, felt like an expectation. It felt like it’s always been in the cards, like it was the path we were meant to take regardless of how we felt about it. Everyone expects us to be together and get married and have kids and everything, and I had this conversation with Sol the other day, okay, and she– she really opened my eyes about something. I don’t know if she meant to or not, but she said– she said something like ‘ suggestions of love don’t make that love genuine. ’ And at first I had no idea what that meant, and then I thought about the way we grew up, together, and the way people always told me I was your Prince Charming and that you were my Princess, and stars, Tammy, do we even love each other? Like, genuinely? Or are we just playing into what we've been led to believe our whole lives? Because I think I really love you, I think about you almost all the time, I see something in the depot and I think about how much you’d like it, and my eyes automatically scan the room for you, and I think I really really love you, and if you only love me because we’re meant to be some– real life fantasy or something, I want you to tell me. Loving you sometimes feels like drowning, like flying, like being spun around over and over and having to find my way back home, and that home is you every time and I just– I can’t love you like this and not be loved back in the same way. If it’s all just suggestions of love, all just bullshit , then I deserve to know.” 

He took a breath after that, and Tammy felt a rush of warmth under her skin like a tidal wave, gently cleansing any semblance of doubt she had. 

“Cal…” She trailed off, trying to find the right words. They let the silence hang in the air for a moment longer, a few seconds for him to watch his breath, before she continued. “I love you.” She smiled, “you’re everything I’ve wanted since before I even knew what love was. I was never forced into loving you, I was never convinced and coerced into holding your hand– I did all of it because I wanted to . Do you know why all this fanfare started in the first place?” Cal shook his head, and Tammy reached forward to take his hands. “When I was three years old, and my dad had just told me about my mom and their marriage and how wonderful she was, I said that I wanted that with you. I told him, and everybody who spoke to me that week, that you were my future husband. My partner. My lover.” She lifted his hand to her mouth and gently kissed his knuckles, feeling the callouses beneath them and the gentle way his muscles began to relax, “it was only ever playground teasing. Everyone thought it would go away, but you know what? I continued to be in love with you for years . You didn’t deserve to get caught up in their rumours, and their whispers, and their suggestions, but everything they said was based on a truth. I’m sorry if you ever felt pressured to love me back.” 

Cal looked at her like she was the stars in the sky. His eyes rippled with tears, and she wanted nothing more than to kiss them away, to trace his freckles until all doubt vanished from his shoulders.

“I love you in ways I can’t describe,” she continued, “our love is not a fantasy, and you, Cal, are my dream.” She slowly dropped their hands, fingers intertwined, and held them between them like a promise. “I have always believed in true love,” she murmured, “because I found mine the very first time I looked at you.” Cal chuckled, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

“Love at first sight,” he said, and she let out a startled giggle.

“I guess I believe in that too.” 

Cal brushed his thumb over her hand, a soft smile returning to his face, and Tammy thought he looked gorgeous. Time seemed to have slowed for them, and for a moment, they were the only two people in the universe. He held her softly, gently, firmly, like a sacred oath, and they both knew that neither one of them was ever going to let this go. 

Tammy was happy with Cal. He was everything she knew he’d be, gentle and considerate and loving. She was overjoyed that the rough patches of their relationship now seemed to be far behind them; especially since their daughter was on the way. Once the problem was solved, though, another one was getting more and more obvious, sticking out like a sore thumb. Tammy always thought that Sol simply didn’t feel romantic attraction towards anybody; she never seemed interested when the rest of their friend group started talking about kisses and dates, and Tammy never knew her to have crushes on anyone. But, at eighteen, Sol was having an identity crisis.

Tammy noticed it first, of course she did, probably before Sol even noticed herself. There was always love in the air in Vertumna, especially around all their friends, but something in Sol’s eyes betrayed affection so deep that Tammy was afraid she might drown in it. There was love in every move she made, hopelessly pining, endlessly yearning, for people she couldn’t have and people who didn’t reciprocate. Tammy used to think it was nothing but crushes, a little burst of magic here and there, the quickening of a heartbeat and the softness of a smile; but now, watching as she pined, there was something more to it. 

It was weird to see Sol like this. Sol, who had never shown an inkling of romantic affection towards anyone for the first seventeen years of her life, was suddenly falling in love. It was weird to see her go back on every word she’d ever said, every feeling she’d ever rejected, every little thing she ever did; and she’d even caught Sol looking at Cal every once and a while. That’s love, she realized, real, romantic, love. Why? She never loved him before, stars, she never loved anyone before. Why now? Tammy knew love was strange, and life was stranger, but there was something deeper at play here. The feeling only got worse as life went on, as Tammy lived a perfect life with a perfect lover, and Sol fell deeper and deeper into confusion. 

Sol never seemed to be able to tell who she was in love with. Her gaze was drawn to multiple people, to everyone, and while Tammy knew polyamory existed, this wasn’t that. This wasn’t Sol wanting to date multiple people, this was Sol falling, deeper and deeper, and then falling again. She would chase after Anemone only to stop and stare at Marz. She would hold hands with Dys on the walls only to be drawn in by Cal’s bright laughter. Tammy would be jealous, bitter even, if that look hadn’t also been directed at her once or twice. It didn’t feel like Sol was a romantic, falling on a whim, but more like Sol didn’t know who she loved in the first place. It didn’t feel like a fairytale, but more a twisted mystery novel where the feelings kept disappearing, only to resurface an hour later, but directed towards a different person. 

The confusion was tearing Sol apart, Tammy knew. But it seemed like most of her just wanted Cal; she was drawn to him the most, laughed with him the most, reached and yearned and pined for him the most, and stars, Tammy might have been a little bitter about it. All her life, Cal was meant to be hers, and here Sol was, falling in love with him anyway. Tammy knew that wasn’t fair, that Sol was dealing with feelings far beyond what she could even comprehend, but there was a part of her that just wanted to put herself between Sol and Cal and tell the former that the latter was hers. She hated that she wanted to rip Sol’s love to shreds, hated that she would rather see Sol alone and hurting rather than happy and with Cal; but matters of the heart were always complex and contradicting, and Tammy knew better than to deny herself her own happiness. Cal might not be her Prince Charming, but he was still her boyfriend. 

Tammy held a special spot in her heart for Sol. There was something special about the way she smiled, the way she surged forward, so confident in her future, and there was something in this kind of uncertainty that was alarming. These feelings, this confusion– It wasn’t like Sol at all. It wasn’t like Sol to pursue Cal even though she knew he was with Tammy, it wasn’t like Sol to be hung up on seemingly everyone at once, and it definitely wasn’t like Sol to treat love like something fickle. It definitely wasn’t like Sol to fall in love in the first place. It tore something in Tammy to watch her struggle, to watch her tear herself apart like this, and she wished she could help, but there wasn't anything she could do. Self-discoveries were better made alone.

Tammy felt awful for her, really, but there was nothing for her here. Sol would move on eventually. She just wished it wouldn’t hurt this much.

[ END OF MEMORY ] 

[ REPLAY: YES / NO ]

Chapter Text

[ LIFE 1489 ] 

[ NAME: SOLANE ] 

[ PLAY / PAUSE ] 

Anemone never knew all that much about love. She’d never been in love before, never even liked anyone before, but here she was, dating Vace. And man , was Vace not easy to date. It felt like he always had a standard, always had to flaunt, always had to be the best, look the best, and have the best company. Somehow, Anemone was included in that, and while part of her was flattered, another part of her hated it. The Heliopause kids all treated her like one of Vace’s accessories, and like she was a hero despite the fact that she hadn’t actually done anything yet. I am my own person, she thought to herself, her arms crossed, why am I just standing here and taking this?

She knew the answer to that. The answer was because she never really knew all that much about love, but she was deep in it. And stars, was Vace everything a man should be: strong, commanding, attractive, well-endowed, and emotionally intelligent, in certain cases. But, on the contrary, Vace was also everything a partner shouldn’t be: demanding, rude, snippy, short-tempered, and, sometimes, aggressive. Anemone never felt unsafe with him in the physical sense, and knew that he was unlikely to actually hit her outside of training, but sometimes, she couldn’t repress the flinches whenever he raised his voice. I am my own person, she reminded herself, I don’t have to stand here and take this. But she did, and she would, all because she was in love. She remembered an old fairytale that Tammy had once been reading to the younger kids in the lounge. ‘ Love makes us do strange things, ’ she read, ‘ stupid and wonderful things. ’ Anemone never really knew what that meant until she fell in love herself, and now, she wished she could go back and tell herself not to approach the boy with fire in his eyes. 

Anemone never felt alone growing up. She was always surrounded by friends, always given pats on the back by her siblings and her mother, always playing Sportsball with Solane, or doing self-defence training with Solane, or watching over the colony with Solane– the point was, she was always in the company of someone else. If that someone else was, more often than not, Solane, then who cared? They were best friends. Sparring partners. If there was one thing Anemone could rely on, it was the fact that Solane would never abandon her. The fact was, and remained, that she never ever felt alone growing up.

She wasn’t growing up anymore, and she’d never felt more alone. She felt like she barely saw Solane, too caught up in training, or watching the colony walls, or Vace; and stars, did he sometimes feel like a trap. Don’t fall for him, she tried to tell herself, even though it was already far too late, he’s a trap. Hindsight was twenty/twenty and Anemone barely saw Solane anymore. She couldn’t help the feeling that Solane hadn’t abandoned her, but she’d abandoned Solane the second she’d chosen Vace. You’re stupid when you’re in love, she told herself, fall out of it. But Vace was a trap, one with ropes and webbing and chains and locks, and she couldn’t see herself falling out of love with him anytime soon. 

What they had was toxic. She knew that. He got angry too fast, he yelled too much, and she just couldn’t seem to stop doing the wrong things. She could tell herself, over and over, that she was never in the wrong; but it was hard to feel in the right when the entirety of the Heliopause shunned and ignored her whenever she argued with Vace. She hadn’t realized how utterly alone she felt until this point, how far apart she was from her family and all the friends she’d made before the Heliopause landed, until now. She was alienated by the people she tried to trust, and she couldn't even go back to her old friends; everywhere she looked, they seemed to have moved on without her. Cal and Tammy had started dating, like everyone knew they would, Marz was working her way up the ladder of management in the depot, Tangent was discovering breakthrough after breakthrough in the labs, and Dys was nowhere to be found at any given time. She hadn’t even tried speaking to Rex or Nomi, or any of their friends, because of a feeling of fear that clung to her in the most unhealthy ways. It was a fear of confrontation, of raised voices and biting remarks, and as the fear took control of her fight-or-flight, she scolded herself. Since when were you afraid of a fight? She asked herself. Since I fell in love.

Somewhere along the way, Anemone had learned to hate love. She hated hearing about it, hated seeing it, hated being in it, and hated the way Vace seemed to fall just as deep in it with her as she was with him. She hated it because she could see how hard he tried to be good to her, and how much it tore him up when he couldn’t suppress his anger. She hated it because of the anguish it caused her, deep in her chest, the kind of growing resentment that started in the stomach of one person and ended in the heart of the other. She hated it because they were both in it, and they were both hurting, and neither of them knew what to do. So they did the only thing they could do; Anemone continued to be in love, and bear the consequences, and Vace continued to try and fail to hold his anger, his tone, and his voice.

“I don’t want to be this way forever,” he told her one day, his voice breaking like it was painful to admit it, “I’m sorry that I’m like this. I don’t– I don’t want to hurt you.” He looked frail, like he’d been broken down and had nowhere else to go. Anemone took his hand, trembling between them, and she could feel how soft he was trying to be beneath all the calluses. His fingers slowly warped around hers like he was afraid to hurt her. I’m not fragile, she thought, please don’t treat me like glass.

“It’s okay,” she said, even though it wasn’t. “I love you.” She said it like it was an excuse and a reason all at once. I am my own person, she thought, holding him close, like how she’d wanted to, years ago, but I will stand here, with you, and take this.  

Solane reconnected with her two years after the Heliopause landed. It started with a simple and innocent invitation to play Sportsball with him. It ended up being everything . 

“Sportsball? Really?” Said Anemone skeptically, “what are we, seven?” Solane gave her a look, the one that was equal parts exasperation and amusement.

“Indulge me,” he requested. Anemone indulged him. It ended up being the most fun she’d had in a while, and she’d even managed to rope Vace and a few other Helios into joining them. None of them were particularly keen to play on Solane’s side, since he was openly friends with Rex, but one firm look from Anemone, and another from Vace, got them in gear. At the end of the day, they were all sweating and aching, but in a familiar way that told of a good day at work. She even saw a small smile on Vace’s face, the kind that he was always quick to hide when he noticed people looking. 

“Hey Solane?” Called Anemone. He glanced up from where he’d been sitting on a log, drinking from a water bottle. “Thank you.” He smiled, one of his real, genuine, earthy smiles.

“No problem,” he said, “you looked like you needed it.” 

Anemone finally earned the looks of admiration from the Helios during one of the Glow attacks. She’d been leading a smaller squad of her own and had taken to defending Geoponics personally; Lum and Rhett were adamant on protecting the gates, but she’d noticed the pattern of attacked crops sooner than the others. Over the radios, Rhett had demanded that she lead her team back towards the front gates, but she refused to move and set her people up to protect the food; a good move on her part, since they were almost immediately attacked by a trio of Manticore. She knew how to pick and choose her battles, knew who to go for and who to leave alone, but this wasn’t something she could afford to be picky with. Oh, you’re going down, she thought, brandishing her weapon. Maybe charging a trio of Manticores by herself wasn’t the best idea, but Anemone was nothing if not a fighter.

In the end, she’d killed two of the Manticores herself and left the third one to the members of her team. There were a few smaller attackers who had a similar idea of going for the food, but they were easily taken care of. She and her crew had single-handedly defended the colony’s food supply, and even as Lum had started to publicly chew her out for abandoning her post, she stood her ground and was secretly a little relieved when Chief Cultivator Fluorescent stood up for her and went toe to toe with him. She kept Anemone firmly behind her as she argued, bringing up important point after important point until Lum just looked like an idiot to be protesting the protection of their food. 

“Thank you, Anemone,” said Fluorescent, “you have the gratitude of everyone from Geoponics.” 

Later that night, Vace kissed her cheek, hugging her from behind. She melted into his hold, exhausted, her heart humming happily. 

“Nice work today,” he said, “you deserve to relax a little.” Usually, when he said that, he was referring to sex; but this time, they both knew that all they wanted to do was wind down. They finished up their meals and showers, and cuddled up beside each other in Vace’s room, taking comfort in each other. And for all of their mistakes and their arguments, this was what made loving Vace worth it. The calm before or after the storm, the eye of the hurricane, the safety of his loving arms. 

Solane started acting weird at nineteen. Gone was his patience, his smile, all the little quirks, and all the little things that made him him. He was jittery. He was prone to anger. He was violent and aggressive, and often picked fights for no good reason. He seemed spacey, as if he was never quite sure where exactly he was. His hands kept tensing around nothing as if he was expecting to be holding something, but never was. If Anemone was being honest, he reminded her a lot of a younger Vace. The only difference was the sudden and terrifying mood swings. They came at random. One second, Solane was just as calm as he always was, and the next, he was trying to punch holes into the walls. Sometimes, he seemed content to just read, and other times, he would throw himself into battle over and over and over again until either he or his opponent could no longer stand. Anemone would be lying if she said she wasn’t worried, but she didn’t know what to do about this sudden behaviour either. 

“What’s wrong with Solane?” Asked Vace one day, his voice gruff, but a little concerned. Anemone frowned.

“I don’t know,” she said genuinely, “he’s been acting weird lately.” Vace raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he replied sarcastically, “I noticed.” Ignoring him, she continued speaking.

“I should probably talk to him,” she noted, “and see if there’s something genuinely wrong with him.” He shrugged.

“He might just be fucked in the head,” said Vace, “he does often go to the front lines during Glow. He probably saw one of his friends die and this is just some weird way of grieving.” Anemone pursed her lips, ignoring the vulgar way he spoke.

“Then he needs therapy, doesn’t he? I don’t know if we can ever solve whatever's happening with his mood, but we can put him in some online anger management therapies, right?” Vace considered the idea for a moment before nodding.

“Sounds good,” he said, “I’ll ask Fluorescent for her opinion and permission, and I guess you can ask Hal if we have any old resources lying around on the web.” Vace parted from her with a kiss on her cheek, one that had her stomach rolling with butterflies. 

Hal introduced her to a whole library on her Holopalm full of self help books and videos for managing excess and uncontrollable emotions. He helped her weed through them all, picking out the best ones to suit Solane’s needs, but she noticed him sorting out a second pile as well.

“Who’s that one for?” She asked, pointing at it. Hal glanced at the pile, before smiling at her. Professor Hal’s smile had always been disarming, kind and wrinkled at the edges.

“For Vace,” he said, “looks like he might need some of these too.” Anemone tried to imagine Vace following one of these self-help tutorials and couldn’t. 

“I don’t know if he’ll accept these,” she said, “he’s not exactly big on people pointing out his flaws.” Hal shrugged. 

“You don’t have to confront him about it,” he told her, “just leave the option open.” Anemone thought about that for a few moments. If she could get Vace to therapy, that would probably change their relationship for the better, right? He wouldn’t have to hurt himself over his anger, and she wouldn’t have to hate the fact that she loved him. It sounded pretty win-win.

He left her alone with the two piles and her Holopalm afterwards, giving her a knowing look as he left the room. It felt oddly silent without him in it. For a while, Anemone just sat there and stared. Would Vace even accept the help? Or would this just turn into one of those massive arguments that ended with nobody wanting to even look at her? Would she be happier, if she did this, or would it just end in more pain? Stars, she thought, I wish love was simple. Eventually, she started to look through the pile Hal had set aside for Vace, flipping through the digital pages on her Holopalm and trying not to panic when she found that most of it was fairly straightforward. If this comes anywhere near him, he’ll know what it’s for, she thought, pursing her lips. But, he wants to change almost as badly as I want him to. Maybe a push in the right direction would be good for him? She bit her lip until it bled, eyes catching on little tips about anger management and passages about the welfare of friends and family. I can do this, she thought, I am my own person, and I need to stand up for something.  

The conversation went surprisingly easy. Vace got defensive, at first, his fists clenching at his sides, but Anemone stood her ground. It ended with the two of them going over the materials together, and Vace begrudgingly admitting that it sounded like this stuff could actually work. Anemone didn't let herself celebrate until the next year, when all their weekend sessions started paying off, and Vace walked away from Rex without picking a fight. His hands barely ever balled into unwanted fists now, and Anemone couldn’t be prouder. 

There was a time, years ago, where she considered that breaking up with him might be the only option to pursue happiness. Now, with him at his side, newly patient and down-to-Earth, she was glad that she didn’t go through with it. Her boyfriend, her lover , was finally good to her, good for her, and she couldn’t have been happier.

( Solane never gets better. If anything, he gets worse. His mood swings go from bad to horrible, his temper short. He felt like a spring, coiled to pounce. Eventually, he starts losing his speech, becoming incoherent and vague. People call him insane. Fluorescent talks about her son with a hard look and the gritting of teeth, and Geranium always looks like he was mourning him, even before they lost him. Solane dies the next year, during a Glow attack, and it brings everyone to tears. The only one who saw it happen was Dys, who describes a suicide. ) 

[ END OF MEMORY ]
[ REPLAY: YES / NO ]

Chapter Text

[ LIFE 8634 ] 

[ NAME: SOLANA ] 

[ PLAY / PAUSE ] 

Cal had been the first to notice. He’d been working in the fields, on his hands and knees, pulling out the woods and checking in on the plants when he froze. Something’s wrong with the dirt, he thought, frowning. It felt odd under his nails, dry and crusty and entirely unpleasant. He frowned, poking into the soil with his fingers, checking to see if this was happening everywhere or just in this one spot. He must have looked crazy, on his hands and knees, poking and prodding at the dirt, but part of him thought this was probably important. He furrowed his eyebrows when he realized that there weren’t any of the typical bugs in the soil either; no little white mites, no worms, and no beetles of any kind. Something’s definitely wrong with the dirt, he thought, leaning back on his haunches. 

He lifted his gaze to Solana, the Chief Cultivator, and considered bothering her with this; but Solana was a busy woman, often dealing with most of the problems in Geoponics and volunteering for things even outside of her job, and he didn’t really want to put more on her plate. I’m her second, he reasoned, I can deal with this myself. He shifted, rummaging around in his back pocket, before finally finding an extra sample bag. He scooped some of the weird, dry, animal-less dirt into the bag, shoved it back into his back pocket, and promptly forgot about it for the rest of the day. 

After he’d tilled the soil and replanted some of the uprooted seeds, he went home for the day. Rex and the rest of the construction crew were working on building a neighbourhood of houses for everyone in the colony so that more people could move out and have privacy outside of just their rooms. So far, he’d been able to give everyone on the council their own living space, and was working on providing places for the seconds; and, thankfully, Cal was the first to get one. He’d been reluctant to accept it, but Rex was adamant that he take the house, especially with Tammy and Echinacea moving in with him, and eventually Cal lost the battle of wills. 

He took off his boots, shaking the loose dirt outside before he dragged it in and gave Tammy a heart attack, untied the jacket around his waist, and hung it up. He hadn’t actually worn it today, and he didn’t most days, but he was used to the weight of it encircling him. 

“Welcome home,” greeted Tammy when he turned around and saw her, a sleeping Echinacea on her hip. She was smaller for a three year old, but she made up for it with boundless amounts of energy. It was rare to see her sleep, and even rarer to see her napping on her mother’s hip. He pressed a gentle kiss to Tammy’s cheek as he passed her, his own wordless greeting.

“Hey,” he said softly, careful not to wake the baby, “how’s she doing?” Tammy smiled, her eyes crinkling in the corners.

“Well,” she started, “I took her to the creche today to spend time with the other kids, and I read them one of my old fairy tales; the one with the unicorn and the dragon. After that, I dropped her off at school for her English classes. Congruence said she read The Book With No Pictures all by herself!” Cal smiled at the news.

“What?” He said, chuckling, “no way!” He wanted to run a hand through his daughter’s soft hair, pink like her mother’s, but didn’t want to get any dirt on her. Tammy grinned.

“Mhm,” she hummed, “and then I came and picked her up to bring her home. Apparently all the reading is exhausting , because she fell asleep right here in my arms.” Cal tapped Echinacea gently on the nose.

“Why don’t we go put her down for her nap in her room? You’re going to get sore if you hold her like that for too long.” 

Cal waited downstairs while Tammy put Echinacea down in a proper bed for her nap. He felt a little restless, so he made some blep tea while he waited, making sure to wash his hands well before he handled food. (Tammy had chewed him out the first time she saw him handling food after working in Geoponics or just in the garden, and ever since had made sure that he washed his hands.) He had just finished pouring it into two mugs when Tammy came back downstairs, a tired smile on her face.

“You okay?” Asked Cal, because she looked a little worn-down. Or, at least, more so than usual. Tammy nodded.

“Yeah,” she said, “Cea woke up after I set her down, so I had to sing her a lullaby to get her to go back to sleep.” Cal hummed sympathetically and handed her a mug of tea, which she took with a small thanks. 

“How was your day?” She asked, “I heard Solana was working on some new and exciting things for the future of Geoponics.” Cal nodded, taking a sip of his tea.

“She wants to install more tech into the fields to monitor the plant growth,” said Cal, “I’m pretty sure we know most of what there is to know about the crops here, but y’know, alien planet and all. More information is probably good for us.” 

“How does she get the funding for all that?” Wondered Tammy, “I can barely get Lum to sign off on the supplies I need for the creche.” Cal shrugged.

“You know Solana,” he said, “she’s persistent and persuasive. Knows how to get her way, and all that time spent with Tangent when we were kids definitely taught her some strategies in structured debates.” Tammy chuckled. 

“I think Lum just doesn’t want to have to deal with her anymore than he has to,” she pointed out, “well-respected people are a threat to him, you know, and Solana has friends on both sides of the colony.” Cal hummed, taking another sip of his tea, when he suddenly remembered the sample of soil in his pocket. He patted the area to make sure it hadn’t fallen out during the day, and was satisfied to find that it was still there.

“I’m going to swing by the lab before they close for the day,” he said, “I have a dirt sample I need to drop off. Something weird’s happening to the dirt.” He finished off the last of his tea, feeling the soothing effect over his muscles, and walked back towards the front door. “I shouldn’t be gone long,” he told her, “and I’ll bring home dinner.” 

Tangent was never Cal’s favourite person to talk to. He respected the hell out of her, sure, but that didn’t make any of their conversations particularly pleasant. 

“What did you say was wrong with the fields?” Asked Tangent, leading him towards the lab equipment.

“Uh,” he started, “it’s harder and drier, and there are no mites or worms or anything in it. I checked all around the field and didn’t see a single animal the whole time.” Tangent hummed, not letting up her quick walk down the hall.

“It’s Dust,” she said pointedly, “are you sure this isn’t just the result of the heat?” Cal nodded, stumbling to keep up with her surprisingly nimble form.

“Yes,” he said, “the surrounding plants are wilting, but they’re not dry. The watering cycle changes four times a year to keep up with the seasons, and the crops get watered three times a week during Dust, four if necessary. The soil should be prime for plant growth.” 

“Interesting,” Tangent said, and she sounded like she meant it. They stopped in front of one of the far doors.

“I’ll run this through the lab overnight,” she told him, “come back tomorrow afternoon for results. I can’t promise I’ll be able to find out what’s wrong with the soil, but you might want to consider letting Solana know about this.” Cal nodded, opening his mouth to say something else, but she had already walked into the room and closed the door behind her. Only slightly dejected, he turned back around and walked out of the building, staying true to his word and swinging by the cafeteria to grab some food to take back to Tammy. 

On the surface, there was nothing wrong with the soil. Tangent had run countless tests. She’d scanned the sample for life, checked the water content, and analyzed the nutrients and quality. Nothing seemed to be wrong; except for the obvious. She’d taken the original sample and sectioned it, adding and subtracting certain conditions to see how it would react. So far, it wasn’t looking like they were any closer to figuring out what was wrong with the soil. When Cal brought it up to Solana, all she did was pump her fist in the air.

“I’ve won that funding from Lum,” she announced, “and I’m keeping it now that there’s something wrong with the soil!” She did a little victory dance, which Cal found a little endearing, before she sobered up and realized that, well, there was something wrong with the soil. She frowned, her previous excitement gone, and seemed a little sheepish.

“Sorry,” she said, considerably calmer, “Lum has just been jumping through hoops to avoid funding more projects in Geoponics with more excuses than any reasonable person can come up with, and I’ve been trying to find a way to secure that funding for…well, most of this month. A problem of this scale forces his hand, so that kinda got me excited, and that also means that we can indulge in more complex technology to start monitoring crop growth under a closer eye. I have a hypothesis on how to double our profits and everything, and I already talked about it with Tangent.” Cal shocked his head, amused despite his attempt at being annoyed.

“The soil, Solana,” he reminded, “one problem at a time.” Solana snapped her fingers, grinning.

“And that’s exactly why you’re my second, Cal!” He frowned a little, concern momentarily overshading his amusement. 

“How long has it been since you slept?” He asked, crossing his arms. Solana’s smile faltered a little.

“A day?” She tried, her voice a little squeaky. But Cal was a dad now, and he could detect lies like a detective. 

“Try again,” he said, raising his eyebrow. Solana deflated a little.

“Two days,” she said, honestly, “but I’m okay, promise! I’m running on, like, four cups of blep tea and some of Tangent’s stimulants, so I’m at full capability and everything.” Cal tsked . 

“Being Chief Cultivator doesn’t give you the authority or the right to neglect your health,” he lectured, “and you’re not Tangent. You need to be living off of more than half an hour of nap time and a handful of pills.” Solana pouted, a testament to how tired she truly was.

“You sound like a dad,” she said. Then she paused. “I can’t believe I forgot you’re a dad.” Cal hummed. 

“How about this,” he started, “you go and sleep for at least sixteen hours, and I take the lead on whatever’s wrong with the soil? I’ll even draft up the official report and funding request to Lum, though I’ll need you to sign it.” Solana opened her mouth to protest, but Cal lifted his index finger in the air and wagged it a little, dad-style. “No if, ands, or buts.” He said, adding a hint of threat to his voice. There wasn’t much Cal could threaten her with outside locking her in a closet and sneaking sleeping pills into her tea, but that was beside the point. If he really tried, he could probably convince most, if not all, of the Geoponics workers to keep taking Solana’s current task off of her shoulders until she had nothing left to do but nap at work. 

“Oh, fine,” agreed Solana. Then, she paused. “I really do sound like Tangent, don’t I?” Cal gave her a shrug and half a nod. She grimaced. The moment she sat still seemed to be the moment the exhaustion truly hit her, because she suddenly swayed like she was about to pass out. Her frown got a little sharper. 

“I’ll do you one better,” she said, “you won’t be hearing from me for the next twenty-four hours. You’re in charge, if Lum decides to get me my tech in my absence, my notes about what to do with it are in the lab.” Then, she turned on her heel, the motion almost sending her hurtling to the floor, and left the Geoponics building. Cal blinked after her, wondering if he should help her get home safely, before deciding against it and turning back towards the farmland. 

He started by taking a sample from each of the plots and sending them to Tangent to see if there were any differences. After that, he went through all his regular duties, checking on the plants, monitoring the growth, and shifting the conditions here and there where it was necessary. There was nothing super interesting happening around Geoponics lately; Solana had already led the team through various challenges and solved most of the plant-related crises. Now, most of the work revolved around maintaining those solutions and various long-term experiments on different plant species for different effects. They were close to engineering a native pain-killer, which was going to be big for patients in the Medbay, and that was about the most exciting thing right now. Well, if you weren’t counting whatever strange thing was happening to the soil. 

He perked up a little when he got a notification on his holopalm, expecting a picture of Echiniacea from Tammy; but instead, finding that it was Tangent. 

‘ Found the problem with the soil. Please come to the lab when convenient.’ Short and straight to the point, in typical Tangent style. Cal all but dropped the bag of dirt he’d slung over his shoulder and turned to the nearest worker, handing off his duties for the next hour or so to someone else.

“Sorry,” he apologized, “got called away to the labs, and you know how Tang gets.” The worker, one of the younger ones who was helping out in Geoponics, cringed, and nodded along.

“No worries,” she said, “I was sticking around until dinner anyway.” Cal frowned, his internal parent instinct wanting to scold her about unhealthy work-life balances, but he refrained. Instead, he turned, and started jogging away. He passed Rex and Nomi on his way over, who were both taking a break from their respective jobs. Rex was throwing and catching a wrench in the hair, and Nomi was idly doodling on his thigh, looking like they were coming up with a character for their next Holo Novel. Cal waved at them when he passed by, getting enthusiastic waves from both of them in return. Tangent was waiting for him outside the science building, looking snippier than usual. 

She didn’t greet him as he approached, instead immediately turning on her heel and leading him further into the science building. 

“So, the problem isn’t anything to do with how Geoponics cares for the soil,” she said, “but more so to do with parasites from Vertumna.” Cal tilted his head in slight confusion.

“But there was no sign of anything living in the soil,” he pointed out, “how could it be parasites?” Tangent sighed.

“Because it’s not parasites,” she said, “it’s fungus. Upon discovering it, I ran a few tests, and it’s actually quite similar to the spores that cause the Shimmer. I would go so far as to say they had the same ancestor. They don’t have a grown spore network like most types of fungus, they’re more like individual colonies of spores that communicate with each other through vibrations and wavelengths. They’re sapping up every bit of water that you give them, and instead of using the nutrients to further growth, they use the energy to produce more and more spores to infect as much of the dirt as possible.” Cal hummed.

“So how do we get rid of it?” He asked. Tangent shook her head.

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted, “there’s a series of tests I’m going to run on this fungus to see what it reacts to, and if you have further samples on your person, I would appreciate it if you ferried them by the lab. This update is moreso a progress report than anything else.” 

Cal pursed his lips, debating his options. Tangent, studying his reaction, crossed her arms.

“This is going to cause a famine,” he said. Tangent nodded.

“Unfortunately, that’s most likely. Are you going to let Solana know about this?” She inquired. Cal grimaced.

“No,” he said, “not yet, at least. I just got her to take a break, I’m not going to let her know about this until she comes back from that break. I’ll drop that soil off at the lab now. Err, thanks for all your help, Tang.” Tangent waved him off. 

The current solution to whatever fungus was infesting the soil was to take dirt from outside Geoponics, soil that was still fresh and moist and mite-infested, scoop it into buckets, and grow the important plants there. Cal kept those trial runs away from the greenhouse and the infected dirt, instead keeping them closer to the barn, and checking on it every once and a while to see if the fungus had managed to spread into the pails. So far, everything was looking good. It would probably take a few weeks or months to figure out how to get rid of the offending organisms, so he started doing paperwork in the Geoponics lab to figure out how to ration their available foods effectively without causing another mass starvation. The past Chief Cultivator, Solana’s mother Fluorescent, had (thankfully) left extensive notes on rationing food, leftover from the first major starvation on Vertumna; and they’d come in handy every time Geoponics had hit a rough patch. 

He’d only really managed to schedule a meeting with the Geoponics staff and get the basics of the rationing down before Solana came back from her day-long break.

“So,” she said, “why am I hearing about infectious fungi in the dirt?” Cal crossed his arms.

“Probably because there’s infectious fungi in the dirt,” he answered. She gave him the most unimpressed look he’d ever seen in his life.

“Okay,” he said, “before you get mad at me, I was going to tell you about it.” Solana raised an eyebrow.

“Were you?” She asked. Cal nodded.

“Uh-huh, yep, it’s just that you had just started your break, and I didn’t want to bother you coming back so soon.” 

“Geoponics is literally my job,” she countered, “I have to know what’s going on around the fields, Cal.” He backtracked a little.

“Well, it’s not like you being here was going to fix the problem instantly,” he defended, “Tangent is still looking into how to get rid of it.” Solana sighed and lifted a hand to her temple.

“Just because there’s no solution yet doesn't mean I shouldn't know about it,” she said, “but I’ll let you off the hook this once. Now tell me about this fungus.” Cal perked up a bit.

“Okay, so, it’s sapping all the nutrients out of the soil,” he explained, “including the plant food, the water, and alimentary molecules of the plants themselves. It communicates with itself using wavelengths and vibrations, which is why we’re not seeing many spores. And..that’s all.” Solana nodded along, looking like she wanted to write this down.

“Alright,” she said, “and nothing from Lum about my tech?” Cal shook his head.

“Nope,” he responded, “when I went to go ask about it, he just avoided me.” Solana sighed.

“Typical Lum,” she complained, “always wanting to do the least amount of actual beneficial work possible.” Cal snorted.

“Too busy blowing up our walls to care about our food sources,” he agreed. 

“Anyway,” said Solana, “what have you been doing about the fungus thing?” Cal cleared his throat.

“Moved the highest yielding crops to individual pots with fresh uninfected soil and moved them to the barn,” he said, “taking frequent soil samples to run down to Tangent and keeping an eye on the plants that grow from those areas. I’m having Tangent run a toxin screen on the fungus to see if the crops that have already grown there are still safe to eat.” Solana nodded.

“Good,” she said, “that’s about all we can do anyway. Have you started rationing?” 

“I started it yesterday,” he said, “didn’t quite finish though.” Solana shrugged.

“I’ll go over it today and finish it up for you,” she said, “and thanks for making me take a break. I really needed it.” Cal gave her a thumbs up.

“No problem, Chief.” 

As the days passed by without good news from Tangent, the impending famine was getting more and more serious. The council members had all already been notified, but their decision to disclose the information to their workers was theirs to make; and so far, only Instance and Rex had decided to tell people. 

‘ My researchers rely too much on food sources once they break out of their research-fueled hazes, ’ explained Instance, ‘ they need to know that they can’t eat three pounds of beans in one sitting anymore. ’ As for Rex, he’d just shrugged and said they deserved to know.

‘ Besides, ’ he’d added in, ‘ construction workers need to keep their strength up to work efficiently, and the starvation is going to alter the completion date of the current projects, and they need to know that that’s okay. ’ Solana hadn’t needed to tell anyone in Geoponics about it, since most of them were working against the famine anyway. 

It wasn’t until the second month of working tirelessly that Cal began to feel the effects of the lack of food. His arms started to feel weaker and weaker, and exhaustion was beginning to kick in. He felt faint sometimes when he was shovelling the dirt, and his arms trembled far more than usual; he could even feel it in the way Tammy held him in the mornings and in Echinacea’s cries. Everyone in the colony was in a foul mood; either snippy and short-tempered or slow and spacey. People kept pointing fingers at Geoponics, and Solana was running herself ragged with fending them off and working to produce more food. It reminded Cal of the first famine in Vertumna, where Fluorescent almost killed herself working to fix it. Sometimes, Solana was a little bit too much like her mother, with the same stubborn attitude and the same standards. 

Sometimes, Cal would find her slumped against the barn wall, Socks in her lap, idly scratching her behind the ears.

“I don’t think I can do this, Cal,” she’d say, looking up at him with haunted eyes, “I think I’m losing my mind.” He’d sat down with her, and they’d spent the day sitting in silence. Cal had thought that she was just out of her mind in hunger and burnout, but she kept getting worse and worse. She was spacier than normal, her work was getting sloppier, and she seemed to wake up with less and less energy every day. Instance had looked over her at the Medbay and found nothing wrong; chalking it up to the effects of starvation hitting her harder due to how much she was working during the day. 

It was at its worst when Glow hit and the soldiers weren’t able to fight it off as effectively as they once could. Lum demanded that they shift resources towards the soldiers so they would have more strength, but Solana was adamant that they couldn’t shift anymore of the food around, or someone was going to die of starvation. Everybody was already at their limit, and unless the colony wanted to cause a death within the walls, the soldiers were just going to have to deal with it. Lum had relented, backing off, but Cal could tell that he’d wanted to order Solana to give up her own rations. (He would have punched Lum sooner than he’d let that happen.) 

It was a month full of death, too many people unable to defend themselves, but Cal knew that it weighed more heavily on Solana and Tangent than anyone els–

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–People were dropping like flies. Too many were dying. The famine had taken almost everyone, and Solana, their brave, steadfast leader, was faltering. She was spacing out more often, fidgeting, glued to her bed. It was like all the soul had been sucked out of her, leaving her an empty husk. Lum had forcibly kicked her off of the council, leaving Cal solely in charge of Geoponics; and if he hadn’t trained under Fluorescent for so many years, he might have floundered. Still, he looked at Solana for directions, for instructions, for any hint that the Solana he once knew was still under her empty exterior; but there was nothing. There was nobody there. She was a living ghost, a walking memory, a gravestone. 

Above, the stars of Vertumna twinkled in the sky. He thought he saw a few of them shift, twitching, as if they were itching to move across the blackened expanse of space. They wobbled in place as if they were threatening to fade, or to fall, threatening to do something . I’m not getting enough sleep, he reasoned, there is no reason for the stars to be twitching.

[ END OF MEMORY ]
[ REPLAY: YES / NO ]

Chapter Text

[ LIFE 986 ] 

[ NAME: SOL] 

[ PLAY / PAUSE ] 

There was something wrong with Sol. At this point, it was a fact. The sky was blue, the suns were yellow, and there was something wrong with Sol. 

“Rex?” Called Nomi, “where’d you go?” Rex shook himself out of his thoughts, tearing his eyes away from Sol and the Helios he was talking with.

“Just worried about Sol,” he said honestly, crossing his arms. His ears flicked, hearing laughter from across the colony. Nomi looked around until their eyes landed on him, and they frowned, their eyebrows scrunching up.

“Me too,” they said, “I hope Vace isn’t being mean to them or anything.” Rex shook his head.

“That’s not the problem,” he said, “I just don’t know what is .” Nomi joined him, crossing their arms and tilting their head as if they were solving a puzzle, gazing at Sol and Vace. 

“They do seem to be getting along,” they observed, “which is kinda weird. Vace doesn’t usually like your friends.” Rex shrugged, squinting his eyes as if the action would help him dissect whatever was happening over there.

“It probably helps that he’s friends with Anemone,” he noted, “the Helios usually only really put up with the Stratos if they’re friends with Anemone.” Nomi nodded absentmindedly, and for a moment, they both just stared at Sol. He was talking animatedly with Vace and his typical crowd of Helio Kids, seemingly telling a grandiose story about one of his expeditions outside the walls. Occasionally, he lifted his hands like he was holding a weapon, and acted something out. There was an excited kind of fire in his eyes, one that Rex had never seen on him before, and Vace was nodding along to the story and looking impressed . Vace and impressed never seemed to fit in the same sentence. He even looked awed, which was an expression that looked awkward and out of place on his face. 

“They look cozy,” commented Nomi, “like they’ve been casually talking like this for forever.” They looked on without conversation for another couple of minutes, watching Sol string together crazy stories and watching Vace eat it up, and Rex let out a little chuckle.

“Well, who Sol is friends with isn’t any of my business,” he said, “as long as he isn’t selling all my secrets, I don’t mind.” Nomi snorted.

“What secrets?” They asked, grinning at him. Rex winked.

“That’s for me to know and for you to wonder.” They left the topic of Sol and Vace alone for the moment. 

“Hey, Rex,” greeted Sol, strolling into the bar, a couple of sheets of paper tucked under his arm. Rex gave him a little wave, his ears twitching as he adjusted to the noise.

“Evening,” said Rex, “what can I getcha?” Sol took a seat on one of the bar stools, placing the stacks of paper on the countertop.

“Just some blep tea,” he said, “I have to stay somewhat sober tonight if I want to get these plans done.” Rex nodded, switching on the kettle as he grabbed some of the dried leaves.

“Comin’ right up!” Rex chirped playfully. He set the leaves down in a mug, and placed it beside the kettle. While he waited for the water to boil, he leaned over the counter to try and see what Sol was working on. Sol, noticing his interest, sat back a little and pushed the pages forward, turning them a little so Rex could get a better look.

“Housing plans,” they explained, sounding tired, “Lum wants me to draft up something for viable housing options. It’s all ‘give me multiple things to choose from, Sol,’ and ‘I want enough space to fit a family, Sol!’” Rex winced, thinking of the Helio governor. 

“He’s not the most pleasant,” he said sympathetically. Sol huffed a defeated sigh and rested his head on the bar’s counter.

“You said it,” he mumbled. Rex patted him on the shoulder. It reminded him of a time where Lum was pressuring him for various jobs around the Heliopause. He was demanding about it, always barking and giving orders about drainage pipes and vacuums. Once or twice Lum had called him down to fix one of the ship’s broken robots, and Rex had to awkwardly tell him that his expertise was not in artificial intelligence. Lum had frowned at him, all big and intimidating, and crossed his arms in the way that emphasized the muscles in his arms.

“Well then,” he’d said, “what are you good for?” Back then, Rex had stuttered aout something about construction lines and pipes, holes in walls and high-beams. Now, Rex kind of wished that he’d punched Lum in the face and taken whatever punishment came with it. Looking at Sol, he could see the same bone-deep exhaustion in his eyes, the kind that only came after being ordered to do impossible things by a man who opened most colony gatherings with “ are we winning or what?! ” 

“I can help you out with it if you want,” Rex offered. Sol’s head perked up, and a tired smile slowly spread across his face. His eyes twinkled like the night sky, and Rex found himself strangely enamoured. His heart skipped a beat, like it usually did with people he found attractive, and he found himself smiling back.

“Really?” Sol asked, and he looked kind of like a dog, which was ironic. Rex nodded.

“Yeah! How far along are you?” Sol’s frown returned, and Rex mourned the loss of it.

“Not very far,” he said, spreading out the pages, “he wants at least three different solutions for his housing crisis. And yeah, sure, I can probably come up with that if I had enough time, but he got me on this project two days ago and jumped the deadline ahead two weeks. In other words, I haven’t slept in a day, and the plans are due tomorrow.” Rex winced in sympathy, blinking away the memory of Lum and his broken robot. 

“Yikes,” he said. Sol chuckled.

“Yeah,” they, still laughing, “yikes.” 

Rex got a notification on his holopalm, and the kettle went off at the same time. He glanced down at the screen, reading the words ‘ kettle ’ and ‘ boiling ’ before he ignored it and went back to the kettle instead. He poured the hot liquid into the waiting mug, before returning the pot to its spot and glancing at Sol.

“How do you take your tea?” He asked. Sol glanced back at him, their eyes locking for a moment. Rex felt a little delighted shiver travel down his spine.

“Teaspoon of sugar,” said the other, “thank you.” Rex hummed his acknowledgement, quickly measuring the sweetener and throwing it into the drink, giving it a stir. For fun, he set it down on the part of the counter closest to himself and slid it to the awaiting customer, watching in amusement as Sol eagerly stuck his hand out to catch it. While he was here, he prepared another mug for himself, this time measuring the sugar with his heart. He stirred and gave it a sip to make sure it was just right, and sighed a small breath of satisfaction at the way the tea warmed his mouth. 

“Careful,” warned Sol, “don’t burn yourself.” Rex grinned at him and took another sip, pushing the dirty cutlery into the sink for him to wash later. He placed his mug near Sol’s, and opted not to walk around the counter, instead hopping over it. He slid into the stool next to Sol, dropping down into it and peaking over Sol’s shoulder.

“So,” he prompted, “what’s the game plan?” Sol nudged him in the shoulder.

“Well, I started with houses,” they said, “based on old architecture plans from Earth. Actually, two of three of these plans are based on Earth architecture, mostly because I was pretty sure Lum would appreciate it more than whatever Stratospheric-structure-esque thing I could come up with otherwise. Anyway, these houses are fairly small, and mostly just contain everything a person would need for basic living; bedrooms, more or less depending on the person, a bathroom, a kitchen, and a living room. I designed these to have two floors, but with materials being tight and spatial concerns, I’m not sure this one’s going to get far.” He pointed to another one of the pages, tracing the sketch lines.

“This one’s based on apartment buildings,” they introduced, “more like skyscrapers, really, but not really as tall. This is a lot more like what we're used to, but each suite has more space than just one room. A standard place would have two bedrooms, a living room, a bathroom, and a kitchen. More custom places could have up to four bedrooms though, we’d just have to compromise the space of the other rooms to fit it in. This design is much more cost and material efficient, but it’s more crowded than individual houses.” Rex nodded along. Finally, Sol gestured to the third one. “This one…isn’t really a finished design yet. I wanted to do something that might be more comfortable for some of us, since we grew up on ships and not on Earth, like each having our own little grounded mini-ship.” Sol let out a frustrated little sigh, moving a hand to run through his hair. “I don’t know,” he groaned, “it just seemed like it would be more comfortable for people like Tammy.” 

“Sol,” began Rex, “I’m not judging. I’m just a little surprised, is all. But it sounds like a great idea, really! I like how you took comfort over practicality, a lot of people take comfort for granted and forget it in exchange for chasing a modern look, or a feature, or something.” Sol huffed.

“People like Lum, you mean,” they said. Rex nodded, offering a small shrug.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “people like Lum.” Sol shifted in his seat, pursing his lips.

“...Do you think I can get Lum to agree to at least a few of these?” He asked, his voice quiet, “I just think that people would be more willing to settle down here without worries if they were more comfortable in their living spaces. And I know Lum will probably just tell me to keep the ones who need that safety in their current rooms, but I want to give them more than a little cramped dorm-style room. They deserve comfort and space, you know?” Rex gave him a small smile, and placed his hand on Sol’s shoulder. 

“Man,” he said, “I’ve seen you convince Nomi to eat a vegetable. You can get Lum to do anything if you try hard enough, especially if you run the interaction by Marz first. She knows all his tells and exactly which buttons to press. You got this. Now, let’s get started with finishing these, all right?” Sol nodded, his smile a little more sure, and slid the sketches of the houses and the apartment buildings over to him.

“Can you go over these?” He requested, “just do some line work, go over the calculations, and let me know if I made any mistakes.” Rex nodded, and grabbed a pencil from his pocket, twirling it between his fingers. 

“Vace!” The man in question turned around to find Sol running down the pathway towards him, wearing a tank top and a pair of shorts. The twin suns of Vertumna had barely risen, making it prime time for a morning run. Vace himself was just about to start, water bottle in hand and stretching already finished.

“Oh,” he exhaled, slightly surprised to see Sol, “morning.” They stopped in front of him, huffing a little bit, and taking a sip from their own water bottle.

“Hey,” he said, “sorry, I completely forgot I said I’d join you on your run today, and I had a late night, so–” Vace interrupted him, holding up his hand.

“Sol,” he said, “it’s fine. What matters is that you showed up at all despite all the reasons not to.” Sol let out a little puff of relief, taking a moment to catch his breath.

“Okay,” he said once his breath was sufficiently caught, “how long are we running for?” Vace tapped his wrist subconsciously. 

“I was just going to go until morning training started,” he said honestly, “an hour or so from now. Feeling up to it?” Sol nodded, grinning.

“Always,” he said. A similar spark ignited a fire in his eyes, and just like every time before then, Vace found himself drawn to it like a moth. 

He’s gorgeous, he thought, letting himself fall a little bit before catching himself. Brace yourself, he thought, bottles of alcohol flashing under his eyelids.

“If you want to stretch, you should do it now,” he said instead of the millions of things running through his head, “I’m not stopping if you get a cramp.” Sol nodded, putting down their water bottle and leaning forward to touch their toes. 

“Lum’s had me doing all the engineering around here lately,” said Sol, “all those hours spent cramped over a desk is making my shoulders tense.” He rolled his shoulders to emphasize his point. Vace huffed.

“Rex isn’t good enough for the job, huh?” He looked at Sol’s face expecting its usual flash of amusement, but instead found a confusing amount of protest. He blinked, watching it, and got a little more confused when it suddenly smoothed back out.

“Guess not,” they replied, running a hand through their hair. Vace watched with a skeptical eye. Even their tone was a little off; usually, they were quick to pass judgement onto Rex, but this time they were hesitant. Not even in a guilty way, but in a way that suggested that he didn’t even know why he was suddenly taking pity on Rex. 

Sol crouched low to the ground, stretching out his right leg, and Vace pursed his lips, lost in thought. He’d originally thought that Rex and Sol were only semi-friends because they worked in the same engineering department; and that Sol didn’t actually like Rex, but more so tolerated him for the sake of a positive work environment. It didn’t really account for the numerous hugs he’d seen Sol give the guy, or the times he’d seen them laughing together, but he had no idea why Sol would be friends with both of them. He wasn’t an idiot; he knew the rumour mill and the hate train ran both ways. Every negative thing he said about Rex could also be said by Rex about him; that was just how it worked. To have someone genuinely being friends with both of them was out of the ordinary, and to hold no bias for either of them just wasn’t possible.

“Alright,” said Sol, standing back up and snapping Vace out of his thoughts, “let’s get going.” Vace pushed the problem out of his head for now and gave Sol a challenging grin. 

Rex was worried about Sol again. He was observant of all the little things his friends went through; every mood shift, every little emotion they felt, everything they said and every mannerism they had. It was all carefully cataloged in the back of his head; he just knew people, and he knew how to read them. When Sol’s entire personality kept changing back and forth between the person Rex knew and the person he was with Vace, he got worried. 

With Rex, Sol was lovely. He was considerate, he was thoughtful, he was smart, and he always had his friends in mind. Even when he was tired and burnt out, he was always ready to help someone out, and have conversations with people. He was the heart of a community, the glue that held friendships together, and as bright as the suns in the sky. He made people feel warm, appreciated, and loved. He cared about the environment and the living things within it, and he made sure to listen to everyone no matter what they had to say. He was brilliant, an engineer, a genius who loved his job. He got this warmth in his eyes whenever he worked, a kind of quiet passion that drew Rex in. Sol had this little subconscious fidget with the hair by his ear, as if he was feeling around for a pencil he’d tucked there but couldn’t seem to find it.

With Vace, Sol was aggressive. He was cold, cut-off, and mean. He laughed harshly, like the breaths were being punched out of him, and he was quick to judgement and quicker to violence. He still cared, in his own ways, but it didn’t feel like basking in warmth anymore; instead, his care felt more like a disinfectant– as hurtful as it was healing. He went on expeditions with Vace, visited the garrison more, lifted weights and thrusted spears and never went easy on his sparring partners. He went on early-morning runs, and you would almost never find him in the corner of a library sketching away at a building design; instead, he complained about his job, and his life, and everything Lum asked of him. (To be fair, what Lum was asking of him was always worth complaining about. Rex would complain too if he was put in charge of everything the way Sol was.) The habit of running his fingers through his hair and checking for pencils behind his ears turned into his fingers curling into fists and biting hard at his lower lip. There was a fire in his eyes, one that was entirely different from the warmth of his workbench, one that was passionate and energized and just wanted to fight.  

These two versions of Sol were similar, but entirely different. He was like two different people, merged into one, and he slipped between them at random intervals; one second he could hold Rex in his arms, hugging him, and the next he was laughing along with Vace and his cronies. One second he was sparring with Anemone and grinning like a wildman, and the next he was asking Nomi all about their latest holonovel. There were miniscule changes under his skin, like the tide of the ocean, waning in and out, crashing waves dragging little crabs to shore. He’d tried to bring it up with Sol before, both when they were with him and when they were with Vace; but no matter when or where he asked, Sol never seemed to know what he was talking about.

(“ I’m not friends with Vace, ” said Sol, fondly raising an eyebrow, “where did you get that from?”)

(“What do you want?” Sol scoffed, “don’t you have something better to do than bother me? ”)

Rex wasn’t one to hold grudges. He was known to forgive easily, to forget easily, to welcome people back into his circle when they asked, known for being easy, complacent, pliant and kind– but still, the last thing he wanted to do was talk to Vace about it. There was one grudge he could hold, one grudge he did hold, and it was the one against Vace. He could understand it, the burning jealousy that came with being alone and hurt, but he couldn’t forgive the broken arm, or the years of bullying that followed it. There was a certain bitterness that lingered under his skin, an agitation that flared up whenever Vace antagonized him; he hated feeling anger like that. Still, he would do anything for Sol; even if that included talking to Vace. 

Vace was difficult to approach. He was constantly surrounded by his fans, a hive of weak-minded soldiers who thought of him as a hero. Most of their opinions changed on a dime, going with whatever Vace was doing or whatever Vace was saying; most of them were decent to Rex when they weren’t around the guy, but just as hateful as everyone else when he was in sight. (A few of them he was on semi-good terms with; they were even willing to give him a hug when he needed the pressure.) 

Rex was keeping an eye on Vace and his group, keeping track of who he was around and mentally running through each of their names. It was kind of like a stakeout; waiting around and keeping an eye on the target, looking for an appropriate time to approach. He’d brought out some blueprints he was working, and was idly sketching out a few ideas while he waited. Every once and a while, he glanced up to check Vace’s group. Right now was definitely a no-go, since he spotted Sol leaning against the garrison wall, his arms crossed as he listened with fond eyes and an amused smirk. Rex felt a gentle pang go through him at the expression on their face, but quickly let the feeling go. 

He got a little startled when Vace turned his head and met his eyes directly from across the colony; he was too far away to read the emotion in them, but he did catch a slight and inquisitive head tilt. Rex was quick to shrink back a little bit, a clear indicator that he wasn’t looking for trouble (he wasn’t ever really looking for trouble), quickly glancing away and then back to emphasize that point. Surprisingly, Vace hadn’t glanced away; and his expression wasn’t aggressive or defensive either. He was just questioning, clearly only half-listening to whatever story his cronies were telling. Rex tilted his head, returning a question of his own. They stared at each other like that for a moment, neither of them sure what was happening, before Vace angled his head slightly towards Sol. Rex followed his gaze, and pursed his lips.

Vace subtly pointed at him, which would have been threatening in any other context, himself, and then at the alleyway behind the science building. Rex perked up a little, already nodding, and held up four fingers. Four minutes, he reasoned. He saw Vace nod, and refocus back on his friend group. Rex stood up fully, rushing back towards his bar to put away his engineering materials, and was a little bit in awe that that interaction had worked at all. He opened the bar door in a whirlwind of movement, haphazardly throwing his materials over the bar table and onto the counter. The bartender working at the moment raised an eyebrow at him.

“Sorry, Aphy,” he said quickly, “in a rush. Please put those in the back?” Aphy sighed and nodded, their smile a little bit fond and a little bit annoyed. “Thank you!” He was out of the bar as fast as he entered. 

He tried not to bring too much attention to himself as he made his way across the colony, heading for the science building; it wasn’t uncommon for him to visit the place every once and a while when he needed to touch up on a skill or grab some supplies, so he wasn't too tired about being spotted. He wasn’t really worried about being spotted entering the alleyway either; he knew he had a bit of a reputation, and most people would assume he was meeting a partner there. What he was worried about though was the thought that people might see that it was Vace he was meeting; which would set off a whole other kind of unpleasant rumour mill. Rex never minded any kind of rumour, mostly because he was used to it, but he didn’t even want to imagine Vace’s reaction to that kind of thing. 

He arrived to find that Vace was already there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

“Took you long enough,” he spat venomously, and if Rex wasn’t already used to that, he might have shot something just as poisonous back.

“Sorry,” he said instead, “had to put away my work stuff.” Vace huffed, unimpressed. He seemed to think that being unimpressed was going to somehow make Rex less late. Unfortunately for him, Rex was long past caring what he thought. 

“So,” he started, a little awkwardly (in all their years being enemies, he’d forgotten how to talk to the guy), “Sol.” Vace nodded solemnly.

“Sol,” he said in resignation. It was weirdly silent in the alleyway for a moment. Rex shifted his weight from foot to foot, feeling uncomfortable.

“You’ve noticed there’s something going on with him, right?” He asked, if only to get rid of the silence. Vace huffed again, and Rex was beginning to think he might have a breathing problem.

“If I hadn’t noticed, we wouldn’t be talking,” he said pointedly, “we don’t talk, and when we do, we argue.” This time, it was Rex’s turn to huff.

“ We don’t argue,” he pointed out, “ you argue with me , and then you beat me up.” Vace glared at him.

“What, like you aren’t antagonistic?” Rex glared back.

“What, defending myself is antagonistic now?” He asked sharply,  and then felt a little bit bad when he noticed one of Vace’s more obvious tells slip. There was a vacant look in his eyes, a brief one, only there for a second or two, maybe three, before it disappeared. Memories, Rex knew. Bad ones. That was another part of his conflicting feelings towards Vace; he knew better than most the things Vace dealt with in his childhood. While Nomi watched movies and Aphy read books, Vace was getting yelled at in the next room over. Nomi drew characters and Aphy took pictures, and Rex listened to the screaming down the hall. Most of the rooms in the Heliopause were fairly soundproof, which kept arguments and disagreements behind closed doors; but nobody, except Nomi, ever considered what it meant to have the ears of a dog. 

He could hear every time Vace’s dad argued with his mom, every bottle that hit the walls, and every little whimper Vace himself let out when he was hit; and he’d tried to tell someone. He’d gone to the adults in the colony and told them that there was something going on in Vace’s family, and every single time he was shot down. He wouldn’t do that, some of them said, the man’s a soldier for stars’ sake. Their assurances and denials did nothing to soothe him, and he went to bed every night feeling like he’d failed someone. 

When he was younger, Rex always tried to include Vace in games. If I can’t help him at home, he thought, I can help him at school. It wasn’t like it was hard to find people willing to play with them; it was actually pretty easy. Rex was great at making friends. The hard part was approaching Vace and not having him bolt away. He’d tried, numerous times, to invite him into a game of tag or ask him to be his partner for a group project; but every time, Vace shied away. He flinched like he was afraid to be hurt, and if Rex wasn’t good at reading people, he might have given up. But he was Rex, and he was good at reading people, and he never really gave up; not until he and Vace were semi-acquaintances. Vace wanted friends. Vace wanted a social life. He just didn’t know how to get one without being vulnerable. (Little Rex worried that, one day, Vace would be like his dad, and take through violence. Then, Vace had broken his arm; and all the dreams of friendship circled the drain until they’d disappeared completely.) 

Most of the time, Rex knew what Vace was thinking of; when his mind receded behind a wall of childhood memories, Rex knew the gist of what he was seeing. Right now, Rex looked into his eyes, and saw a man. 

( Dad was drunk again. He towered over him, and he felt two inches tall. There was something in the way Dad clenched his fists and straightened his spine that made him cower. He was pressed into the wall, a large hand keeping him in place, pushed firm against his chest. There was a fire in Dad’s eyes, the kind that preceded pain. He tried to defend himself, grabbing weakly at Dad’s fingers, trying to find a grip. His nails dug into skin, and it only made the pressure worse. He kicked at Dad’s legs. The fire roared, and he was beaten for daring to protect himself. ) 

It was gone three seconds later, and in that time, Rex had taken a few steps back. Vace gasped a shuddering breath, the kind that stuttered in his lungs and raked the back of his throat. Rex let him catch his breath, waiting on Vace to be the first to speak. 

“ No, ” admitted Vace, voice haggardly and rough, “it’s not.” He sounded like he was reminding himself more than he was telling Rex. Rex blinked the surprise out of his face, and looked back up at the other. He was leaning a little more heavily against the wall, looking like he was trying not to give in to the urge to slide down and bury his head in his knees. It was odd to see that expression on his face. 

Rex had met this version of Vace before, years ago. He was the scared little boy who was afraid of people. He was the scared little boy who stayed away from women and cowered around men. Don’t see me, begged his eyes, I’m not here. At the same time, his actions screamed see me, acknowledge me, I’m here, I can do it. He was the little boy who hid in corners, desperate for a friend, yet scared of rejection. He was not the boy who woke up one day, surrounded by broken glass, and decided to use fear to gain respect. He was not the boy who walked up to him and snapped his arm in two. He was not the boy who got a rush out of popularity and fame, and not the boy who turned to violence to cover vulnerability. That was the version of Vace people remembered, the one who was revered and loved, an aggressive hero. Offensive. This was the Vace that everybody forgot about, quiet and anxious and self-doubting. Defensive.

Rex was well acquainted with both versions of Vace, and didn’t know how to deal with either of them. 

There was total silence in the alleyway for a while. Rex had taken initiative and sat down, leaning against one of the dumpsters back here, and waiting for Vace to catch his breath. He could hear Rhett commanding the soldiers from here and the harsh laughter of the watchmen as they entertained each other with stories and jokes. He could hear Tammy across the colony being spun around by Cal, both of them soaking in the sunshine of a Vertumna afternoon. His ears twitched a little bit when a particularly loud noise echoed through the colony; the distinct sound of metal hitting metal, likely a mishap in today’s construction. He thought about the blueprints he’d been working on, and pursed his lips, his fingers tapping on his wrist absentmindedly. He was snapped out of his daze when he ended up tapping on a bruise he’d forgotten was there. 

Hissing a little, he withdrew his fingers and looked down to inspect it. It was in the shape of a hand, the fingertips of a Helio who didn’t like it at all when Rex tried to offer him a hand up. Instead of grabbing his hand or getting up himself like a normal person, he’d grabbed Rex’s wrist so hard it had literally bruised, and used that grip to pull himself up. He’d laughed when the sudden and unexpected move had pulled Rex to the ground in his place. At least it wasn’t swollen anymore; smooth to the touch, dark and only a little bit yellow around the edges. He reminded himself to put some kind of cream on it later, but was startled out of his musings by Vace, who seemed to have gathered himself. He looked a little appreciative of Rex not bringing it up, which also looked out of place on his face. 

“About Sol,” began Vace, his voice no longer rough, “he’s acting weird, being all buddy-buddy with both of us.” Rex chuckled.

“You said it,” he agreed, “have you noticed that he acts differently depending on which one of us he’s with?” Vace nodded, still a little shaky.

“Yeah. It’s like he’s two different people. Sometimes it seems like he even forgets which one of the two he is, goes all spacey and confused for a minute.” Rex hummed.

“And it’s not like he’s actively keeping track of which person he has to be around us,” he said, “I’ve spoken to him after he was with you and your group, and he was rude and dismissive to me,” he remembered the sharp pain that had gone through him that day, and the way his stomach had dropped to his feet. “I thought he didn’t want to be friends with me anymore, but the next time I saw him he was kind and nice and he smiled at me like it never even happened. Genuinely, I think he’s just…two different people.” 

“Really?” Asked Vace, “you really think he has a multiple-personality disorder or something?” He sounded skeptical. Rex pursed his lips.

“Dude,” he started, “trust me when I say this; he is not the same person when he talks to me as he is when he talks to you. I can read people pretty well, especially people I care about, and even Sol’s nervous tics change.” Vace, surprisingly, backed down, deciding to trust him.

“So what do we do about it?” He asked. Rex shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he said, “I’ve tried to bring it up with them before, but both times they had no idea what I was talking about. The second time, he acted like it was the first time I talked to him about it.” Vace glanced down at the grass below them.

“I don’t know what to do either,” he admitted, “I don’t like the thought that he’s a different person when he’s with you. It makes me feel like I don’t know him at all .” Rex shrugged.

“I don’t mind as much,” he said, “I mean yeah, it makes me a little uncomfortable to think that he could be rude to me, especially since he’d been nothing but kind, but what we both have now is okay, right? I mean, we didn’t even notice this was going on until now.” 

“I still feel like we should do something about it though,” Vace said, sighing, “or at least tell someone. Maybe Tangent or Doctor Instance could figure out what’s happening with them.” 

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” said Rex, “I have to get to my engineering shift soon…” He checked the time. “In ten or so minutes.” Vace waved a hand, seemingly shaking off any of the lingering nerves from his flashback. 

“I got it,” he said, beginning to walk towards the exit of the alleyway. Then, he paused. Rex tilted his head a little.

“And…” Vace’s hands clenched into fists, and Rex fought the urge to scramble upright. “...Sorry about the bruises on your wrist.” Then, he walked away. 

Rex blinked, glancing back down at the fingerprints. Vace hadn’t been the one to give them to him, but the apology still felt good. It was an acknowledgement that Rex’s harassment was his fault; and it was a step in the right direction.

“Look who it is!” Yelled one of Vace’s friends as he passed, making Rex’s ears twitch at the sudden volume, “the whore!” The people he was with, a group of four or five, all laughed at the comment like it was the peak of comedy. Rex ignored them, dipping his fingers in the wood glue and carefully tracing the edge of his current project. He was used to being called derogatory names and so far, these were pretty basic insults. 

“He’s probably imagining the glue is something else,” one of them stage-whispered, laughing. The others joined in, and Rex felt a little bit grosser about wood glue. 

“That’s disgusting!” Shouted one of them, chuckling. They started shoving at each other, which was typical idiot soldier behaviour. One of them, Rex thought his name was Gyro, paused.

“Do you think he uses the glue during sex?” He asked. Immediately the rest of the group started howling with laughter, stumbling a little as they continued to pass by.

“For what?” Asked Sten, “is he so loose that he has to glue the toys in?” Rex’s fingers began to feel tingly and uncomfortable where he had touched the glue, and he hoped that these guys would hurry up with their harassment already so he could go back to work without thinking of improper uses of engineering equipment. 

He closed his eyes and tried to think about anything else, but the laughing was obnoxious and grating on his sensitive ears. He took a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself, and continued to spread the glue before it dried and became unusable. It felt disgusting and heavy on his fingertips. Rex usually didn’t get worked up over insults about his sex life. He knew he had an unusually high libido, and he wasn’t ashamed of the fact that he slept around; all of his partners knew his rules beforehand, and he made sure to establish boundaries and safewords just in case. He would never be ashamed of enjoying himself in a safe and consensual manner. He wasn’t really sure why the comments were getting to him now though; it probably had something to do with the fact that he was already in a bad mood today.

“What are you guys doing?” Came the sudden and commanding voice of Vace, “you’re supposed to be at the garrison by now for noon training.” Immediately the group sobered up, all of them stammering. Rex let out a little sigh of relief at the save, even though Vace’s arrival probably meant more insults. 

“We were just–” started Gyro, who was quickly interrupted.

“I don’t want sub-par soldiers on my squad, and I will not accept anyone who isn’t punctual and won’t follow orders without question. Rhett gave you a direct order to be ready at the garrison by eleven-forty, and I find you here instead, joking around? If you want to end up on my team one day, clean up your act. ” 

“Yes, yes, yeah, okay,” said Sten, stumbling through his words. Vace’s hands clenched into fists. 

“ Then go! ” He yelled. The soldiers yelped and ran away, sprinting as fast as their legs could take them towards the garrison. Rex let out a little sigh of relief, feeling his shoulders begin to lower. He pressed the two pieces of wood together and set them up in the vice, eager to wipe the glue off his fingers and purge that interaction from his mind forever. When he looked up, he realized that Vace was still standing there, his fists clenched, staring at the floor. Rex blinked at him. For a moment, neither of them moved, and Rex was starting to feel incredibly awkward. 

“...Can I help you with something?” He asked, feeling like a customer service employee. Vace didn’t move, and if anything, his fists clenched a little harder. “Is it about Sol?” Rex prompted. 

“Tangent said she doesn’t know what’s wrong with him,” said Vace, finally breaking his silence, “she said that they could do a brain scan or some other science-y thing like that, but they’d need his consent, and the Sol I know wouldn’t want to be a lab rat.” Rex frowned, considering.

“It’s a good thing then that the Sol I know wouldn’t mind,” he said, “I’ll bring it up the next time I see him.” That seemed like the end of the conversation, but Vace still didn’t move. Rex pursed his lips. “Anything else?” He asked. The other man gritted his teeth.

“They’re idiots,” he finally said, his tone dismissive, “they don’t know what they’re talking about.” It took Rex a second or two to realize that he was talking about Gyro, Sten, and the rest of their friends. 

“I know,” he replied, trying to bring his usual chirp into his voice. “It’s okay.” Vace’s expression tightened. Rex got the sense that his answer had angered him somehow.

“No,” Vace argued, “it’s not.” They stayed still for another couple of moments, and with every second they spent together, Rex understood Vace’s semi-apology for his friends a little better. He felt bad. He was reminding himself of his dad, and he was trying to make up for it in as many ways as he could until he could justify himself. 

Rex opened his mouth to say something else, he wasn’t quite sure what, but Vace huffed and stalked away before the first word left his mouth. 

Vace kept losing his temper. He was trying to be better, trying to take out that energy on something that wasn’t another person , but it was harder than he wanted it to be. He dug his nails deep into the calluses on his hands in the hopes that it would be enough to restrain himself from violence; but the anger always came out in other ways. It was there in the way he slammed doors, the words he spoke, and the volume of his speech. It was building up inside him, threatening to boil and spill through his heart, infecting his hands and the fists they curled into. It was poison, one he had indulged in for far too long, one he’d been around since he was a kid, one that had been poured into him by a lame excuse for a soldier. 

He was trying to be better, and yet he was still so angry all the time. He didn’t even know why. There were little things that other people did, little things that didn’t even affect him, that agitated him. The way Gyro laughed, the way Aphy poured drinks, Tammy’s little smiles, Tangent’s lack of emotion, Sten’s stupid jokes– in some stupid, insignificant way, everyone pissed him off. He didn’t even know why. He would have liked to be the Vace that was entirely unaffected by his childhood; the one who was a little more care-free and a little less mad; but no matter how much he denied it, his backstory would always cling to him. 

He didn’t want to be so hateful towards Rex. At least, not anymore. There was a time, when he was younger, when all he wanted to do was be spiteful and hurtful to the other boy; but now, being that mad at nothing was a complete waste of time. Not only that, but now, every time he looked at Rex and saw the bruises he’d put on him, the scars his friends had given him, and the little flinches, he wanted to punch something. (Something that was preferably not Rex.) When he was younger, he thought that there would never be a time where he would look at his reflection and see his father; he thought that as long as people liked him, and he was good at his job, and he stayed away from the bottle, it would all be fine. Now, he could see that it wasn’t fine. People flinched away from him. People cowered when he was around. Last year, he might have seen it as an achievement; now, he only felt ashamed. 

“Vace, I can not have you be distracted during training,” barked Rhett, “one day, this will be life or death, and I can not have one of my best die in the field. Do you understand me?” Vace gritted his teeth and nodded, trying to focus his gaze on his sparring partner. Anemone met his gaze head-on, her stare concentrated and sure. His heart, underneath all its scars, gave a small flutter. He shook his head to sharpen his thoughts, and waited for Rhett to call the beginning of the match. In the corner of his eye, he saw the man’s arm raise. 

( Dad’s hand raising high, rage simmering in his eyes, Vace turning his head to try and avoid it– ) 

Rhett’s arm sliced down, a motion to begin the match, and he began to circle the mats with Anemone, both of them simply observing each other. Vace forced himself to loosen up a little, knowing that he’d need to be a little bit faster than normal to compensate for her dexterity. Finally, they came to a stop. Anemone took a step forward. Vace took a step backwards. Vace drew his right hand back. Anemone switched her feet. Then, she bolted towards him, fingers between open-handed and clenched fists. 

(- Dad’s fist reared forward, and Vace closed his eyes just before it made contact with his stomach– ) 

Vace side-stepped, moving his own hands moving defensively in front of him in case she dried to jab at him; instead, she sunk low, sweeping her foot out, and Vace cursed quietly when he jumped a second too late and ended up falling. He quickly tucked himself into a roll and landed on his feet, whirling around just in time to block another punch. He sent a jab of his own out towards her stomach, and felt a brief glimmer of satisfaction when it connected with her stomach. She let out a small grunt, and spun around to avoid his attempt at a grab, kicking her front leg out to take advantage of the momentum–

(- A beer bottle, flying through the air, smashing into the wall beside him–)

He faltered. Anemone’s boot hit him in the jaw, and he felt an explosion of pain before the impact knocked him off balance. The pain snapped him out of his daze, and he grabbed her leg before she could retract it again, pulling her off her feet and onto the floor. 

“Sloppy!” Called Rhett from the sidelines where he was watching, “both of you! Get your head in the game Vace, or–” 

(“- I will beat your ass. Do you understand me, Olivaceous? That shit is unacceptable–”)

“-I will be forced to remove you from guard duty! I can not have liabilities on my team!” Vace’s hands clenched into fists, nails pressing into his palms, and backed up to allow Anemone to get up. His fingers trembled and breathing was beginning to feel unreasonably difficult. He watched as she brushed the dirt off of herself, and felt a familiar surge of uncontrollable anger pump through his blood. Rhett raised his hand again, and this time, they were off before it lowered. 

(“ -You know, Olivaceous, I coulda been a great soldier. Even coulda won medals and shit. But then there was your mother, stupid bitch, and now there’s you, and being a great soldier doesn’t seem attainable anymore, does it?” )

Twenty seconds in, Anemone landed a punch to Vace’s stomach. 

(“ You want to be a soldier, don’t you? Soldiers need to be tough. Soldiers learn to take hits. Soldiers don’t get to cry when it hurts. Toughen up.” ) 

Thirty seconds in, Anemone tackled him to the floor. 

(“ Fight back, Olivaceous. Fight back! Come on, show me some fire, Kid! Don’t make me hit you again. ”)

Get off, get off, get off, get off, GET OFF, GET OFF, GETOFF, OFFOFFOFFOFF– 

Forty seconds in, Vace flipped them over. 

(“ You will never be anything.” Vace wanted to punch him. “You ruined my life.” Vace wanted to kick him. “You ruined your mother’s life.” Vace wanted to kill him.)

Snap!

One minute in, Vace broke Anemone’s arm. It made a sickening crunch beneath him, and the noise and the following silence cleared his mind completely. The snap reminded him of Rex, all those years ago, a scream of pain, tears, and the way he’d tried to get himself out of Vace’s grip. His eyes widened with clarity. Anemone’s widened with pain. Vace’s grip loosened with surprise. Anemone’s loosened with panic. Vace sat back while Rhett and the medical team rushed in to check on her. He wasn’t sure what he’d seen that made him do that to her. Part of him didn’t want to know. Another part of him thrashed to remember. Rhett turned his gaze to him, cold and commanding, and in flashes, all Vace saw was his father. Soldiers, towering over him, cold anger, disappointment, glaring, fists clenched, furious–

“Go home, Olivaceous,” ordered Rhett, “I’ll deal with you later.” Vace scrambled to his feet and ran away. 

Rex wasn’t expecting Vace to come knocking at his door at three in the morning. He wasn’t really expecting anyone to come knocking at his door at three in the morning, but Vace was the last on the list of people who might come knocking at his door at three in the morning. Weird, he thought, watching Vace. He was pale, sweaty and shaking, his expression a ghost of the triumph and pride that usually sat there. He looked small. Rex could read regret and guilt in his eyes. He looks scared, he realized. 

“Is everything okay?” Rex asked, thinking at first that something was wrong with Sol. Vace shook his head. 

“I hurt her,” he said, a little bit desperately, “oh stars, I broke her arm–” He cut himself off with a sharp gasp. 

“Whoah,” said Rex, “calm down, you’re not making any sense here.” Vace looked up, the sudden movement a little startling.

“Anemone,” he said, “oh, fuck, I really messed up this time.” A couple different things clicked in Rex’s head. He’d heard that someone got injured in evening training today, but he hadn’t known that it was Anemone; and he hadn’t known that Vace was the one to do it. A soft oh passed his lips. 

“...Do you want to come in?” He eventually asked, opening the door a bit wider. Vace didn’t answer, instead shoving his way inside. Rex blinked. This totally isn’t weird at all, he thought, closing it. He turned around just in time to watch Vace storm his way into the living room and melt into the couch, burying his face in his hands. Rex blinked at him for a moment, trying to figure out why Vace would come to him of all people, especially in the state he was in. Rex paused in the doorway of his own living room, feeling a bit like a stranger in his house.

“...Can I get you something?” He asked, ever the diligent host, “tea?” The only response he got was a shuddering breath that sounded like it might have come from a dying animal.

“Okay, no tea,” he rectified, scrambling a little, “I have some chips in the kitchen if you want to eat something, like a midnight– well, post-midnight— snack?” Sometime during Rex’s tired rambling, Vace had moved, and was now looking him directly in the eye. He let out an angry sounding sigh, and Rex wondered if letting him in had been a bad idea.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” Vace grumbled, and Rex let out a little sigh of relief, closing the distance between the living room door and the couch. He sat down on the edge of it, not sure how close he could get to his surprise guest. Vace startled a little, moving to sit up.

“I should go–” He started to say, but Rex interrupted him.

“No, no, it’s okay, you can stay. But, uh, why are you here?” Rex asked, wanting to get a better grip on whatever the hell was happening. Vace stopped trying to get up, but regarded him with a weary glance. 

“I…” He glanced down, a little subconsciously, “don’t know.” Every second he spent on the couch, he seemed to get a little spacier. Rex hummed, thinking back to how Vace had first shown up at his door.

“Do you want to talk about what happened with Anemone?” He asked. Vace’s fingers tangled together in knots.

“I don’t know what happened,” he said, “I don’t know, I just–” He broke off. His voice cracked. His hands started shaking a little bit. “I blinked and there she was, her arm broken, beneath me, and I just froze, and Rhett was so angry, and he told me to control my temper, but I wasn’t mad, I was– I was–” 

“Scared?” Rex asked, filling in the blanks. Vace met his eyes again.

“Yeah,” he said, “I guess so.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “What does the great Olivaceous have to be scared about?” He asked sarcastically, “he has everything. Is everything. Has everyone.” 

He sounded bitter. He sounded like he was describing someone he hated. He sounded like he was on the edge of a massive mental breakdown, one that he’d been toeing the line of for years. Rex felt a little bad for him.

“The past,” Rex said quietly, “the people in it.” Vace huffed, and even that sounded shaky.

“It was years ago,” he said, “I should be over it.” Rex shook his head.

“You don’t get over things like that in a heartbeat,” he said, “you carry it with you for a long, long time.” 

“You know, then?” Asked Vace, “about my dad? And my mom? And every little thing everybody told me never happened to me?” Rex nodded, a little hesitant.

“Why do you think I keep letting you in?” Asked Rex, “I won’t lie and say I haven’t ever hated you for all the pain you’ve caused me, but I’ve always cut more slack for you than everyone else.” Vace whipped his head around to him.

“Why? You should be mad at me. You should hate me. You should be yelling at me, right now, for hurting another person, especially one I care about. You should be turning me down, turning me away, telling me the same things that everyone always says behind my back.” Somewhere during his rant, his lower lip had started to tremble. 

“And why,” said Rex, “should I be mad at you?” Vace threw his hands up in the air, and for the first time in a while, Rex didn’t flinch. 

“Because it’s me! Because I’m me! I’m horrible to everybody around me, especially you, and it doesn't even matter how hard I try to be a better person because I blink and suddenly my dad is towering over me, and someone gets hurt , and it’s my fault, and–” He broke off into a frustrated shout, and Rex felt a little bad for him. 

“You saw your dad today,” he clarified, “while you were training.” Vace hefted a shaky sigh.

“Yeah,” he admitted, “I did. I don’t remember what he said, or what he did, but he was there, and– Stars, I’m just like him, don’t I?” Rex shook his head.

“No,” he said, “your nose is a little more crooked, your hair is lighter, and you’re taller. You don’t drink, and when you do it’s usually not more than just one glass, and you carry yourself with pride. You have a different eye colour, your laugh is more of a huff, and you have different nervous tells.” Vace stared at him.

“Why do you know so much about my dad?” He asked, a little weirded out. Rex gave him a guilty smile.

“When I was younger, I used to follow him around,” he said, “looking for proof I could use to get you out from under his roof. I was looking for any little slip that could help your case, but I never found anything. For a drunk, he was pretty good at covering his tracks. I guess over time I learned more about him, and I could recognize all his little mannerisms and which scoffs meant what.” He paused. “But do you want to know the biggest difference between you and him?” Vace nodded. Rex smiled.

“You’re making an effort,” he said. “You’re trying to be a better man. I’ve noticed how you try not to take your anger out on other people, and you take all that energy out training instead. I know that you meditate more often now, I’ve seen you do it in the garrison when you think no one’s around to watch. You’re smiling more. I know that you’ve still got a long way to go, but look back at where you started from. You’ve come a long way.” Vace didn’t respond to that, instead closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, effectively chasing away the panic attack he might have had otherwise. “And about Anemone,” Rex added in, “this probably isn’t something you want to hear, but I think it’s best if you break things off with her.” Vace nodded solemnly, like he’d expected that answer.

“I know,” he said, “I’ve been hoping that I could reign in my anger enough to stay, but after today…I don’t think it’s possible anymore.” Rex let that sit in the silence for a moment, before shifting his weight a bit.

“You definitely don’t want to hear this,” he started, “but I think that therapy might be a good option for you.” Vace glared at him, but Rex held his stance. “You said your dad haunts you,” he said, “kind of like a ghost. Who better to get rid of a ghost than an exorcist?” Vace’s glare deepened, and Rex backtracked. “Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the best of comparisons, but you get what I mean, right? You don’t even need to see someone in person, you can look through Congruence’s databases and see if she has any self-help manuals available online or something.” Vace’s glare subsided a little, but he still didn’t seem happy with the idea.

“Why can’t I just do it myself?” He asked. Rex grinned at him, a little sheepish.

“That’s what you’ve been doing,” he said, “and you still ended up breaking Anemone’s arm.” He was expecting Vace to send him another heated glare after that, but to his surprise, Vace just deflated.

“God,” he said, “I’m a shitty boyfriend. A shitty person in general, really.” Rex shrugged.

“At least you can admit it,” he said, “and own up to it. You did apologize to her, right?” When Vace said nothing, Rex got a little bit concerned. “...Right?” Vace shook his head.

“Rhett ordered me to go home after it happened,” he explained, “and I was just– Out of it. The hours passed in a haze. At some point, Rhett came to talk to me, but I didn’t hear anything he said. He must have noticed, because he let me off the hook with a warning and a couple of hours in remedial teamwork classes or something.” Vace frowned. “And then, I ended up here.” Rex frowned.

“So you disassociated?” He asked. Vace shrugged.

“If that’s what that’s called, then yeah, I did. I don’t even know why I came here either.” 

“Where do you usually go when something like this happens?” Rex inquired. 

“Nowhere,” replied Vace, “I just stay in my room until the feeling goes away.” 

Rex hummed, sitting back a little.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’ve done with emotional conversations for today,” he said, “it’s, what, four in the morning?” Vace startled a little.

“Oh shit,” he said, “did I wake you up? I had no idea how late it was.” Rex tilted his head.

“I mean, yeah, you did, but it’s okay. You needed someone to talk to, and I was probably going to wake up soon anyway.” Vace gave him a questioning look. “Restless sleeper,” he said, answering the unspoken question. “I doubt either of us are going to get much sleep after this,” he noted, “so I might as well go and brew us some tea.” 

Vace ended up staying for a cup of tea, and then another, and then a third. Rex had brought out some snacks, mostly various kinds of chips. He had put on a trashy Earth movie in the background to fill the silence they left behind; they shared a few words, but nothing that could be called a conversation. Eventually, the twin suns of Vertumna began to rise.

“Hey,” said Vace from the couch, “do you want to join me on my morning run?” Rex raised an eyebrow.

“You’re not worried about being seen together?” He asked, a little bit skeptical. “There are all kinds of rumours to be made, you know.” Vace shrugged.

“Not really,” he said, “it’s early enough that nobody except the night watch will be out, and they know better than to spread any rumours. They’ll probably just assume it’s a competition.” He said it with normal levels of confidence, so Rex assumed that last night’s vulnerability was officially over. Rex nodded.

“Sure,” he said, “I’ve been meaning to get into running anyway.” 

“I’ll be concise,” Tangent said, “I don’t have any idea what’s wrong with him.” Rex frowned.

“Really?” He asked, “nothing at all?” She huffed, rolling her eyes at him.

“If I knew, I would be telling you something useful, wouldn’t I? All his scans showed him to be in perfect health from the tips of his fingers to the molecules in his brain. There’s nothing wrong with him as far as our technology can tell. If he has a medical condition, it’s not something that can be scanned and monitored by physical means, and is completely mental.” Rex deflated a little bit, frowning. Tangent softened. “I understand that that’s not what you wanted to hear,” she said, “but there’s nothing Chief Instance or I can do for him.” 

“I don’t suppose we magically acquired a therapist when I blinked, did we?” He asked, a little miserably. Tangent shook her head grimly.

“No,” she said, “the best you can do is self-help guides from Congruence’s databases, much like what Vace is doing for his anger issues.” 

Rex felt his eyebrows raise a little.

“You know about that?” He said, trying to shake the surprise out of his voice. Tangent nodded, her posture turning slightly sheepish. 

“I’m running a psychological and social experiment at the moment,” she explained, “it includes monitoring the various open searches people are conducting in Congruence’s databases and comparing results to the person’s occupation and environment.” Rex blinked.

“That’s ethically ambiguous,” he noted. Tangent shrugged.

“Yeah,” she said, “I know.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot a little awkwardly.

“Uh,” he said, “well I’ll bring up the whole therapy thing to Sol, but it doesn’t sound like it’s going to help much. Or at all. He might not even agree to it since he’s not exactly aware of his whole personality thing.” 

“Maybe not,” she said, “but trial stages are important in any kind of experiment.” Rex wasn’t sure how he felt about Sol being referred to as an experiment, but he let it go.

“Does that mean we can come up with some accommodations or something if the therapy doesn't end up helping?” Rex asked. Tangent nodded.

“We can probably think of something,” she said, “starting with letting the colony know about his condition, however inexplicable it might be.” 

Rex pursed his lips, thinking of Sol’s reaction to his own condition, which wasn’t something he was even aware of. He sighed.

“Thanks, Tang,” he said, “I’ll let Vace know the news.” Tangent’s face did a weird frown-smile.

“Since when were you two talking in a capacity that didn’t involve trying to kill each other?” She asked a little skeptically. Rex shuckled.

“Since a mutual friend of ours started showing symptoms of being mentally ill,” he said. Then, he paused. “And I guess since Vace realized he needed help.” Tangent waved her hand in the air, turning back towards the science building.

“Well,” she started, “let me know if you have any more concerns or ideas regarding Sol,” she glanced at him from over her shoulder, “I’m always open to more experimenting as long as he is.” Rex gave her a wave and a salute, before turning around himself and heading towards the garrison. He caught Vace’s eye halfway there, whose posture stiffened upon seeing him. Rex stopped midstep, a little mystified, before realizing that Vace probably still didn’t want to be seen with him in public. He pointed towards his bar, which was currently closed, and held up a three. Vace nodded, and turned back towards the knife he’d been sharpening. 

“So there’s nothing we can do?” Vace asked, his expression tight. Rex shook his head.

“Not really, no,” he replied, “and I don’t think Sol will agree to therapy, especially for a problem he doesn’t even know exists.” 

“I thought your Sol was more forthcoming than mine,” he said. Rex pursed his lips.

“Well,” he started, “he is, it’s just that he’s really busy all the time and he’ll probably see it as a waste of time. Outside of the whole multiple personality thing, he doesn’t actually have any mental issues past what we all already have.” Vace quirked an eyebrow.

“And what do we all already have?” He asked. Rex shrugged.

“The general trauma of growing up on a spaceship,” he paused. “And also being around Lum.” Vace let out a startled snort, and Rex was a little bit enamoured with the noise.

“Was that a laugh?” He asked, teasing, “did I make you laugh?” Vace waved his hand as if to dismiss it.

“I don’t get to hear a lot of people take shots at Lum,” he explained, desperately trying to smother an amused smile, “it’s just surprising that you’re so open about it.” Rex rolled his eyes.

“Lots of people are open about it,” he said, “one afternoon around Cal is enough to fill a book with things nobody likes about Lum.” Vace frowned.

“If we’re caught bad mouthing Rhett or Lum, a superior generally puts us through drills or remedial classes on manners and respect,” he said. 

“That sounds terrible,” noted Rex, “I get it if it was just Rhett, but Lum? I’m pretty sure every council member in existence hates his guts.” Vace snorted.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “every once and a while you can catch them muttering about how Lum is the most incompetent person they’ve ever met.” Rex crossed his arms and offered a smile.

“And you say you’re not used to the badmouthing,” he teased. Vace offered him half a smile in return, and it only looked a little bit out of place.

“Sounds like I’m hanging around the wrong crowd,” he said. Rex softened a little.

“Yeah,” he said, “maybe you are.” 

By now, the training groups were switching out, and Rex could see them from the bar windows. He spotted Gyro and Sten, and cringed a little bit, remembering their last interaction. Vace followed his line of sight to see what he was looking at.

“Idiots,” he muttered, “they were late to training again today.”

“Excused?” Rex asked. Vace shook his head.

“Gyro woke up late,” he said, “Sten had a hangover and forgot the time.” He paused. “Out of all the people who were late today, only Aphy had a valid excuse.” Rex perked up a bit at the mention of his friend.

“And what was the beloved Aphy doing this morning?” He inquired. 

“Helping Tangent with an experiment,” said Vace, “they brought a note from Instance and everything.” Rex nodded.

“Sounds like Aphy,” he said. They sat in a few seconds of silence before Vace cleared his throat.

“Well,” he started, “I should get going. I’m demonstrating in the next round of training. Part of my punishment for what happened the other day is helping Rhett with the little kids.” He moved towards the door, but Rex momentarily stopped him by grabbing his arm.

“Did you apologize to Anemone?” He asked. Vace’s muscles tensed under Rex’s hand, but he held on. He heard the other take a deep, calming breath, and found that he didn’t mind the ten or so seconds of silence that followed the question.

“Yeah,” he said finally, “I did. I didn’t even have to break up with her either, she broke it off; realized how much she was worth.” He turned his head and met Rex’s eyes from over his shoulder. “The weird thing is that I’m more relieved than I am hurt. All that time we dated, I thought that her leaving would be the thing that broke me completely, because she was the only person who knew what I could be underneath all the anger. But now that it’s happened, I’m just…happy for her, I guess.” Rex gave him an easy smile.

“That’s a good thing,” he said, “I promise. Now go to your kiddie training.” Vace rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, finally sliding out of the bar doors. Rex watched him walk across the colony, and couldn’t help but feel a little proud of him.

It was surprisingly easy to treat Vace like a friend, even after all their years of fighting. It was almost unsettling how quickly he put aside their differences. Vace speaking to him in a civilized manner was insane, but Rex was nothing if not a good friend; even to those who were once his enemies.

Eventually, the colony caught on to the fact that they’d stopped being hostile towards each other. The colony had also caught on to the fact that Sol was having an identity crisis, because everybody started approaching him with the caution of someone dealing with a wild animal. People started to edge into conversations with him as if they were gauging if he recognized them or not. Both versions of Sol had noticed the weird behaviour, but they’d reacted in different ways. Vace’s Sol was significantly more pissed about it, while Rex’s Sol was nothing but a big bundle of confusion. 

“Do you know why everyone’s acting so odd lately?” They asked one day, poking Rex in the shoulder. Rex looked up from his blueprint, ear twitching, and bit his lower lip a little bit anxiously.

“Do you remember that brain scan I asked you to go in for?” He asked. Sol nodded.

“Yeah,” they said, “Tangent was testing me for anomalies and contusions.” 

“Okay,” he said, “well, uh, she was also looking for something else.” Sol waved their hand, telling him to get on with it. “You have a multiple personality disorder,” Rex said, ripping off the bandaid, “or something like that.” Sol blinked at him. His brow furrowed.

“No,” he said, “I don’t.” Rex nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, “you do.” Sol sat down on the barstool beside Rex and squinted at him.

“So you’re saying that I, the head engineer, have a personality disorder?” Rex nodded. “So who am I when I’m not me?” He asked.

“Still you,” said Rex, “just a very different you. You’re more aggressive, for one, and you do more physical activity than actual engineering despite still being the chief engineer.” Sol frowned.

“Are you messing with me?” They asked, “because it’s not funny.” Rex looked him in the eye.

“Do I ever lie to you?” He asked. Sol thought for a moment, and then shook his head. “I’m being honest,” he said, “you can ask Vace or Tangent if you need it confirmed.” 

“Vace?” Sol echoed, “since when do you talk to Vace?” Rex grinned.

“Believe it or not, but other Sol’s best friend is Vace,” he said, “so he also noticed that you act off sometimes and we talked about it. It’s kind of the basis for our tentative maybe-friendship.” Sol leaned back as far as they could on the bar stool.

“Well that explains the lack of fights recently,” he murmured, “but Vace ? Really? Other me could have picked anyone, and I picked Vace? ” Rex shrugged.

“Other you is like Vace in a different font,” he said, “he doesn't even know he has this whole personality thing. I’m pretty sure the other you wouldn’t even believe us.” 

“Oh,” said Sol, “so, what else makes me different?” Rex scratched at one of his ears.

“Well,” he said, “for one, you’re a lot meaner to me. It’s like how you have disdain for Vace, but the other way around.” Sol immediately frowned.

“Other me is an asshole,” he said, “and blind.” He threw in a wink for good measure, and Rex didn’t even bother to hide the healthy flush that rushed to his face. Platonic flirting, he reminded himself. 

“You’re also angrier,” he said, “like a firecracker.” Sol frowned.

“I guess that comes with being friends with Vace,” he said. Rex shrugged.

“Maybe,” he said, “but give credit where credit is due, he’s been a lot better about it.” 

“Sure,” said Sol, “and I’m the Governor.” Rex’s smile dimmed a little bit.

“I am serious though,” he said, “genuinely, he’s trying to be better.” Sol shrugged.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” There was silence in the bar for another couple of moments before Rex stood up, checking the time.

“I gotta go,” he said, “I promised I’d meet up with Nomi in, like, ten minutes.” Sol waved his hand.

“Go ahead,” they told him, “I’ve got to think over this whole personality thing anyway.” Rex paused.

“One last thing,” he said, “look through Congruence’s database for therapy material, okay?” Sol didn’t respond, but Rex knew he heard him.

Vace wasn’t expecting a visit from Sol. Well, sometimes Sol would show up at the garrison unexpectedly, but it was always Vace’s Sol. This was obviously Rex’s Sol, and that’s what made it so incredibly weird. Now that the guy was two feet in front of Vace, he could really pick out all the things that Rex had been talking about; like the way he seemed to lack confidence, or the way his fingers fidgeted with pencils. He seemed skittish, like he was a little bit nervous to be this close to the soldiers, but also defiant towards Vace specifically. He knew how to deal with his Sol, mostly because they were pretty close, but Rex’s Sol was a whole different story. He didn’t even know how to start this conversation.

“So,” said Sol, and it didn’t even sound like his voice, “Rex told me about the personality thing.” Vace’s expectations for this conversations flipped upside down. He quirked an eyebrow.

“So you want me to tell you what you’re like when you’re with me?” He guessed. Sol shrugged.

“Yeah,” he said, “I’m still trying to wrap my head around the whole thing, but Rex hasn’t ever lied to me, and if he’s talking with you of all people about it, then it must be serious.” Vace ignored the pang of hurt that shot through him at those words, dismissing them completely, mostly because the implication behind them was true. 

“I don’t think Rex is capable of lying,” said Vace. Sol shrugged, and Vace felt another little pang at the lack of fire in his eyes. 

“He’s not capable of lying to me, at least,” said Sol, “anyway. Tell me about, well, me. What am I like around you?” Vace paused, crossing his arms as he thought of an answer. 

“Well, for one thing, you’re a soldier,” said Vace, “confident, precise, measured, passionate, more aggressive too. But you’re not like the sheep that some of the guys are who blindly follow me around, you’re more like someone who keeps me on my toes. You’re one of Rhett’s stars, and sometimes you join me for morning runs. You get this look in your eyes whenever you talk about your expeditions, and you have great technique.” He frowned. “It made me wonder why you were Head Engineer and not something more military based.” He chuckled. “Stars know you never used your head.” 

“And I’m your…best friend?” Asked Sol, a little skeptically. Vace shrugged.

“More or less,” he said, “you’re a closer friend than my usual crowd, that’s for sure. I like people who I can trust, and not only can I trust you, but I can count on you to be better than I am.” Sol frowned.

“I would have thought being better than you would have triggered some kind of stupid rivalry,” he admitted. Vace shook his head.

“No,” Vace said, “maybe in the past, but I respect you. I admire people like you, with skill and drive, and enough discipline to lead the colony into the future.” Sol obviously didn’t know what to say to that, shifting his weight again.

“You don’t talk about me like I’m your best friend,” said Sol slowly, “you talk about me like you–” Vace cut him off.

“Stop talking,” he barked, a fresh dose of anger running its course, “shut up.” The back half of Sol’s sentence went unsaid, but both of them knew what they were going to say.

Vace never really considered what having a crush on Sol would mean for the future. He knew those feelings were there, but he never had any plans to act on them. There was a part of him that was scared of relationships, specifically ones with men. A fragment within him, a little shard, really, kept thinking back to what his mother had with his father; a loveless affair, one that lacked care and trust, full of pain and arguments, abuse and alcohol. I don’t want to end up like that, he’d thought, and then did nothing with his feelings. He wouldn’t deny the fact that he was attracted to men; but it didn’t override the part of him that was scared of them. Sol, who was wonderful and trustworthy and kind, was also aggressive and violent and argumentative. There was no future with Sol, his Sol, that wouldn’t end in arguments and alcohol. 

Another part of him knew the real reason why he’d wanted to break up with Anemone; the realization that he was the man in their relationship. He’d thought that if he loved her enough, and he made up for all the times he’d been angry, it would fix everything. But he couldn’t stop his DNA, and the parts of him that he shared with his father just wanted to hit and control , and be all the things Vace was afraid of. I don’t want to end up like that, he’d thought, but he still loved her. Why can’t I stop myself from hurting you? He spent a long time in denial, pushing away the thought that he was like his father, but now, there was no denying it. He needed to be apart from her, and even if he could be a better person, less angry, less aggressive, less like his dad, he would never be able to enter another relationship with her. 

He dug his nails into his hands and grit his teeth, hoping that it would be enough to keep all his negative feelings in.

“Well,” Sol said, breaking the silence, “thanks for telling me. About myself.” Vace shrugged, trying to look like he wasn’t going through ten million stages of grief. 

“No big deal,” he said. Sol pursed his lips.

“And…thanks for being nicer to Rex.” They turned around and walked away, and as soon as they were out of sight, Vace whirled around and punched the wall. 

Vace did try to tell Sol about the whole personality thing, but it didn’t really go well. Part of him wished that his Sol was as forthcoming and open-minded as Rex’s Sol, and all the other parts were relieved that his Sol was entirely different. Still, it made for a frustrating conversion when he finally managed to sit the guy down and talk to him.

“Are you serious?” Was the first thing Sol asked.

“Yes,” Vace had said, “I’m being serious.” Sol had glared at him. The hate in their eyes took him by surprise.

“Stars, is this why everyone’s been acting so weird lately? Because you’ve been spreading rumours about me?” He’d sounded mad. Vace had felt a spark of panic.

“I’m not spreading rumours,” Vace had said, trying for placating, “people have just noticed it, and–” 

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” and his voice was a period, the end of a sentence, the end of a friendship, a breaking heart, “don’t try to convince me that I’m crazy, or that I’m ill. I’m not. There is nothing wrong with me.” He’d turned around, and Vace had reached out; but he was already too far away. 

Sol was as stubborn as they came. Once he set his mind to something, he never changed his mind. Vace should have known better than to tell him anything. There they were, walking away from him, and they might as well have been walking out of his life. Last year, he might have felt a cold anger towards Sol, the kind that drowned out every other sound, every other feeling, until it tore out of him in a hurricane of negative energy; but now, he just felt defeated. A horrible feeling churned through his veins, the kind that sent chills down his spine and tears to the corner of his eyes, the kind that kicked up his heartbeat and stung in the center of his chest. There were unspoken words hanging in the air, the kind that he heard but wished he didn’t understand. It was rejection, the bitterness of a perceived betrayal, and the impending death of a friendship. 

It was only a matter of time before the pain of it all turned into rage; so he left the garrison as quickly as he could, and returned home before he could take it out on someone who didn’t deserve it. (His hands ached for weeks afterwards, and he was too ashamed to ask someone to fix the bloody holes in his walls.) 

Sol wouldn’t speak to him anymore. That much was obvious. It was something that everybody had noticed; people kept sending them both pitying looks. The ones Vace got were on the lines of ‘ aw, don’t worry, he’ll come around! ’ The ones Sol got were more ‘ I’m sorry you have a mental condition. ’ Regardless of what the looks meant or didn’t mean, neither of them appreciated or wanted to be sent them. It was a constant reminder that Sol didn’t want him anymore; not that he ever wanted him in the first place. It had been a few months since their falling out, and Vace felt like everybody had been walking on eggshells around him, even more than usual. The rumour mill was up and running, and in a small colony like this one, news spread fast. 

‘ I heard that Vace confessed to Sol and got rejected, and that’s why they’re acting so off.’

‘Really? I thought it was the other way around. Vace is kind of a jerk after all.’

‘No, I thought it was because Vace started hanging out with Rex.’

‘Are they fucking? Maybe that’s why Sol’s mad. Bros before hoes and all that.’

‘You guys have got it all wrong, Vace is just in a foul mood because Anemone broke up with him.’

‘That’s true, he does seem to be snappier lately.’

If there was an upside to all of this, it was that in those months, Vace had gotten undeniably closer to Rex. He’d thought it wouldn’t happen; Rex hated him, he had hated Rex, and that was that. But ever since they’d discovered Sol’s condition, they gravitated towards each other like magnets, and though both parties were acutely aware of their history, it was like none of it mattered. Rex was still hesitant to be around him, still cowered occasionally, still flinched occasionally, and for good reason, but Vace had noticed that Rex was more willing to be around him. He recognized that Rex was testing and establishing unspoken boundaries, poking and prodding around to see what was okay and what wasn’t. 

Rex was unreasonably kind to him. It made his head spin a little bit, the way Rex could forgive him and help him be a better person without belittling or insulting him. Stars knew that he deserved any hate he got from the guy, but Rex had no hate to give. He’d thought that Rex had a little bit of spite in him when he’d arrived at his door the night he’d broken Anemone’s arm; he’d been banking on it, hoping for some harsh words. All he got was kindness and advice, and it left him wanting to beg Rex for something he couldn’t possibly put into words. Why don’t you hate me? He wondered, I was nothing but horrible to you. Why can’t you just hate me? Every time Rex looked into his eyes with nothing but a teasing glint and a smile, it made him want to melt into the floor and hide. I don’t deserve to be your friend, he thought, and it felt more like a beg, why are you letting me be your friend? (There were many things Vace didn’t understand about the world, people, and relationships; Rex was one of them.) 

He didn’t even realize that he’d started to care about him until the day he’d given Rex his last ration bar. There had been something in the air that day, something in his eyes, and it made Vace want to be good to him. There was a spark of anger, a little stab of agitation, but it was accompanied by such a fond feeling that it almost knocked Vace off his feet. He was marching over there, ration bar in hand, before he could even think about what he was doing. He saw Rex contemplate running from him, and it was almost enough to convince him to turn right back around and run away, but then he’d seen Rex give him a chance in real time, and that urge was crushed by another wave of fondness. It was weird, to care this much about someone, especially someone who used to do nothing but make him want to punch someone, and Vace didn’t really know what to do with the feeling.

It was entirely different from what he felt for Anemone, once upon a time, and that’s what made it so difficult to categorize. He knew what love felt like, what it felt like to love unconditionally, to love freely and openly, and this was different. It was the seed of friendship, several steps before what could even be considered acquaintances, and yet there was an unfamiliar layer of something whenever he looked at him. It felt like second chances. It felt like double lives. It felt like the possibility to be better this time, to be a new person, and it felt like not having to do it alone. It was foreign, alien, and he had the oddest urge to bask in it.

He didn’t even have the strength to deny it when Rex accused him of caring about him; on a normal day, he might have, but being swarmed by mushy friendship feelings made him soft. Instead, he just scoffed, called him an idiot for good measure, and then left. 

If Rex was being completely honest, he wasn’t expecting Vace’s weird ‘truce’ to extend past figuring out what was wrong with Sol. He was pretty sure that they would go back to being enemies afterwards, and even though the days kept passing with no sign of hate, he held onto that thought. It wasn’t until Vace gave him a granola bar that he started having doubts. 

“Man,” Rex was saying, “I forgot my lunch.” Sol glanced at him.

“You could run back home and grab it, if you want,” they offered. Rex shook his head.

“I won’t have time to eat it if I do that,” he said, “it might just be better if I work through lunch.” Sol pursed his lips but said nothing else, lifting a forkful of pasta to their mouth almost guiltily. Rex huffed a laugh.

“Don’t feel bad that you remembered to bring your lunch,” he laughed. Sol ducked their head, a little bit embarrassed. 

Rex sat down on one of the metal beams, squinting at the blueprints through the harsh glare of the sun. He could hear the morning and afternoon training classes switching out at the garrison, and briefly looked up just in time to catch Vace putting away his spear. They made eye contact, and Rex offered a wave. Vace returned it, although looking reluctant about it. His head tilted in a slight question, and Rex had to use one hundred percent of his people reading powers in order to figure out what question he was asking: where’s your lunch? (He came to this conclusion after several moments of looking around, looking back at Vace, and squinting.)

He shrugged, as if to say ‘ I don’t know, ’ but with the context it meant something more like ‘ forgot it. ’ Vace’s expression dropped, and he glared a little bit. What did I do to make you mad? Rex thought, mentally backtracking. Then Vace started moving towards him, each step a thundering march, and Rex was a little bit ashamed to admit that his first thought was that Vace was coming to beat him up over a forgotten lunch. Rex’s posture must have wildly changed over the past couple of seconds, because Sol definitely took notice; his expression turned confused for a moment before he followed his line of sight to Vace. 

“Whoah,” said Sol, “he looks mad. Why does he look so mad?” Rex shook his head and moved to stand in case he needed to run away.

“I don’t know,” he replied, slightly panicked, “should I be running?” Sol bit their lip.

“You’re the one who said he changed,” they said, “maybe he’s not running over here to punch you?” Sol paused for a moment. “Maybe I should prepare to run too, huh?” Rex took a breath, and managed to relax himself enough to stop feeling like prey.

“You know what?” Rex said, “I believe in him. He won’t hurt me.” Sol raised an eyebrow, but Vace arrived before the conversation could continue. 

“You forgot your lunch?” He asked gruffly, and Rex was briefly surprised that that was the first thing he said. He nodded.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, “must have fallen out of my bag this morning or something.” Vace glowered at him, and Rex leaned backward a little bit. 

“Idiot,” said Vace, and Rex didn’t even have time to feel offended before the soldier was hitting him in the face with a ration bar. “How are we supposed to have solid structured buildings if the engineers are malnourished?” Rex knew that was the peak of excuses, but didn’t call him out on it, instead glancing down at the bar and then grinning like the sun.

“Aw,” he teased, “you care about me!” Vace crossed his arms, and for a second, Rex thought he’d gone a step too far; but Vace didn’t hit him, so it was probably okay. 

“Whatever,” grumbled Vace, “don’t forget it again.” Rex’s grin melted into something that was more like a smile. Vace wasn’t angry. He wasn’t mad either. He was just upset; and probably still getting used to actually caring about Rex. 

“Thank you,” he said, and if he had a tail, it would be swishing back and forth. 

Vace turned away and grumbled something inaudible before he stomped off, digging his heels into the dirt. Rex watched him go for a few seconds, feeling warm, before beginning to unwrap the ration bar. Sol watched from the side, a sly smile on their face.

“So,” he said, “he brings you food now?” Rex shrugged.

“Apparently,” he responded, taking a bite out of the bar. It was mostly tasteless, but it was solid and packed full of protein; designed to keep soldiers full and functional for as long as physically possible. 

“I never thought I’d see the day you two would be friends,” said Sol. Rex swallowed his bite, frowning a little.

“I don’t actually know if we’re friends yet,” he admitted, “I mean, I’d like to start over, especially with this new and improved less-angry Vace, but I think we’re more…acquaintances now.” Sol quirked an eyebrow.

“So he makes sure you’re not starving and takes your teasing and you joke around with him and you’re not friends?” Rex swallowed another bite.

“When you put it like that, maybe,” he noted, “but it’s not like I’m going to ask him what we are. Maybe we have one of those unspoken relationships, and he’d rather keep it undefined.” Sol quirked their other eyebrow. Rex flicked him on the forehead. “Not in that way. He’d rather die.” 

Sol softened around the edges, looking up at him with the warm expression that made his stomach twist into knots. 

“It’s just nice to see,” he said, “it’ll take a long time for Vace’s friends to stop targeting you, and it’ll be a while before he has his anger completely under control, but this is a solid step forward. And you know, it’s nice to see you happy.” Rex pocketed the empty nutrition bar wrapper.

“Happy?” He echoed, “what do you mean?” Sol’s expression turned mischievous again.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, “you’ve wanted to be friends with him for a long , long time.” Rex crossed his arms.

“Yeah,” he replied, “since we were kids. It kinda went away for a while while we were busy being enemies. What’s your point?” Sol huffed.

“Dude, I know part of you has always wanted to be his friend, no matter how hateful and awful he was to you. I used to judge you for it, you know, but now I think it’s a good thing.” Rex bit his lip.

“A good thing?” He asked, “why’s that?” Sol shrugged.

“He was probably going to go on this journey of self-discovery eventually,” he said, “but you being here and willing to help him through it just makes the whole thing faster, and easier, and it makes him feel less alone, with the additional perk of healing your inner kid.” 

“My inner kid who wanted to hold his hand and play pirates with him?” 

“Yeah, that one.” Rex’s ears flicked.

“I’m beginning to see your point,” he said. Sol laughed. 

“Okay,” said Rex, “so the Manticores manes change colour depending on the season.” Vace nodded. “And they’re incredibly territorial and predatory.” He nodded again.

“Their entire body is a weapon, so if you spot one, it’s best to remain hidden, and if you can’t slowly move in the opposite direction. If you run too fast, it’ll trigger its predatory instincts and start chasing you.” Rex snorted.

“What was I going to do,” he said sarcastically, “fight it?” Vace shrugged.

“I mean, I fight them all the time,” he said, “usually with my surveyor partner, but I can probably take one solo if I need to. Sol can fight them off too.” His mood dampened a little at the mention of Sol. Rex frowned, deciding not to mention it.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “but you’re training all the time. I’ve only ever been in the garrison when it’s mandatory.” Vace grinned at him.

“And you spent most of that time goofing off with Nomination.” His tone was more teasing and light than insulting and judging, so Rex didn’t mind the quip. 

“Guilty,” Rex admitted, “they were the only good part of mandatory self defence training.”

“You could swing by the garrison later if you wanted to catch up with the lessons,” offered Vace, “I know it’s more intimidating now that everyone’s leagues ahead, but there’s never a bad time to start.” Rex snorted.

“If I wanted to learn how to punch people, I would have gone to one of the past million training sessions,” he said, “I’ll leave the heroics to you, thanks.” Vace shook his head, amused.

“Fair enough.” They lapsed into a comfortable silence, one that was only broken by the passing soldiers.

“Do you think they fucked?” Whispered Gyro, his eyes focused on the pair. Rex cringed, anticipating the scene that followed; Vace was never really that good at dealing with rumours. When nothing happened, he glanced up to find him avoiding his eyes, looking sharply in the other direction, a slow-rising flush appearing on the lower half of his face. Rex blinked. Oh, he mouthed, feeling his heart kick up a beat he hadn’t heard in a while. His face lit up in half a grin, and he cheerfully reached out and grabbed Vace’s arm, tugging him away from the speculating Helios, who only hollered and cheered in response. Idiots, Rex thought, half fondly and half agitatedly. At least they were somewhat supportive, even if what they thought was happening definitely wasn’t ever going to happen. 

“Hey–” Shouted Vace, “what gives?” Rex grinned at him, and then grinned a little wider when he realized that he hadn’t had any kind of negative reaction to Vace’s sudden yell.

“You said it yourself,” he began, “You’re hanging around the wrong crowd. I think it’s time we get you to the right crowd. In other words, it’s time to introduce you to Nomi.” Vace raised an eyebrow. Rex was delighted to find that the action didn’t make him want to run away; instead he felt a little fluttery. It felt like a breath of fresh air.

“Nomination? I already know them, we literally grew up together.” Rex rolled his eyes, and it didn’t feel like scorn. Rex paused.

“Properly,” he added in, “introduce you to them properly.” Vace shrugged, but he stopped fighting Rex’s insistent tugging, so he counted it as a win.

Nomi was, as usual, in a random spot somewhere in the colony. They’d already checked the robotics lab, the lounge, the bar, and the outpost; when asked, Dys said he hadn’t seen them. They weren’t in or by the depot, fluttering around Geoponics, or writing the latest chapter of their Holo Novel on the walls. Rex almost gave up on finding them until he checked the cafe; where Sol and Nomi were working on the design of their newest character together. 

“Hey guys, what’s up?” Asked Rex, sliding into the chair next to Sol. Nomi clapped at his arrival, delighted.

“Nothing much,” Replied Sol, “working on Sunala’s design.” Rex pursed his lips.

“Sunala…” He trailed off, “is that one the hero’s cousin twice removed?” Nomi giggled, lifting a hand to their mouth to cover their infectious smile.

“No, Sunala’s the princess that the villain needs to save,” they corrected. It was then that Vace sat down at the table, and there was a brief silence before Nomi and Sol got over the sudden addition. 

“I thought heroes were supposed to save the princesses,” said Vace in an attempt to join the conversation, “not villains.” He was so obviously out of his depth that the rest of the table couldn’t help but smile a little. Nomi laughed again, this time not bothering to cover their smile.

“Don’t be silly,” they said, “the villain saving Sunala gives it some spice! A subversion of expectations, if you will!” Rex nudged Vace with his elbow.

“In Nomi’s stories, not every villain is horrible, and not every hero is selfless. Most characters end up being a mix of everything, with little quirks that make them special.” 

“So how is Sunala different from any other princess?” Asked Vace, turning to Nomi. They grinned at him.

“Well, first of all, she’s competent. I hate that stereotype that princesses and female leads can do nothing but be sexy and seductive and stupid. But she’s not a fighter , really, she’s more like…a strategist. She’s got some self-defence moves up her sleeve, and she can think really fast on her feet! And she’s got a backstory that gives her skills like lockpicking!” Vace raised one of his eyebrows, turning to Rex in an ‘ is this real? ’ Kind of way. Rex grinned at him.

“Trust me,” he said, “if anyone can turn that cohesive and well-written, it’s Nomi.” 

“It’s true,” chipped in Sol, “I was just as skeptical when I first met them, but not anymore. Nomi’s a great writer.” Vace regarded Sol with a painful amount of hesitation. The table went eerily quiet for a moment.

“Vace,” said Sol suddenly, “can I speak with you for a minute?” Vace grimaced, looking like he’d rather fight a Manticore. Rex nudged him with his elbow again, encouraging him to agree. There was a long moment of silence in which Vace considered it, before he sighed, nodded, and stood up. Sol smiled at him, something warm and sympathetic, and it only served to worsen his mood. Rex watched them disappear into the backroom of the cafe, and felt a pang of worry for both of them. 

“They’ll be fine,” said Nomi, “both of them.” Rex sighed.

“I know,” he said, “but I can’t help but worry a little.” Nomi passed him the piece of paper they’d been working on.

“So,” they began, “what do you think?” Rex glanced down at the paper. On it was Sunala’s name and some listed information as well as a basic sketch for her appearance. 

“She’s pretty,” Rex noted, taking in the details, “I like her hairpin. Very fancy.” Nomi nodded and mimed a motion like they were writing his review down. Rex rolled his eyes fondly and continued to analyze the drawing. “Is she holding a space blaster?” Nomi gasped in excitement and straightened up.

“Yes!” They cried, “she is! She got it from her girlfriend, the villain, and it's her main weapon!” Rex smiled at them.

“How does she know how to shoot?” He asked. Nomi bit their tongue a little.

“I already said that she can pick locks and stuff,” they said, “because she was raised by scoundrels before she was identified as the princess. That’s also where she learned how to shoot!” Rex nodded along.

“So she was identified as the princess and whisked away to the castle,” said Rex, “and she wants to escape and be with her family and her girlfriend, the villain, but the hero wants to keep her from ‘ being kidnapped?’ ” Nomi snapped their fingers.

“Yes, exactly! Man, you always know exactly where the plot is going,” Nomi giggled. Rex shrugged.

“What can I say?” He teased, “it’s a superpower.” 

Nomi shifted another one of the papers over, and Rex picked it up to have a look.

“This is her criminal girlfriend,” informed Nomi, “I don’t have a name for her yet but she’s shaping up to be really cool!” Rex smiled.

“I can see that,” he said, “she’s got really cool jewelry. Did she steal it?” Nomi shook their head.

“Most of it is heirlooms and self-made stuff,” they said, “only a few things, like the rings, were stolen from rich people.” 

“What about the hero?” He asked. Nomi grinned.

“Well, he’s only the hero because the story is told from his perspective. So, he was hired to be the guard for the princess, but she wants to escape and the ‘villains,’ in quotations by the way, are trying to get her back. It’s this whole thing, and it has four total plot arcs and seventeen character arcs, and–” If Rex wasn’t already used to Nomi’s ranting about plotlines and characters, he might have zoned out; but he was their best friend of many many years, and was more than used to it. It was a shame that the grand explanation of the plotline got interrupted by the return of Vace and Sol.

“Welcome back!” Greeted Nomi, “I was just talking about the third major plot twist!” Sol smiled at them, and then at Vace, who looked just as awkward as he was when he followed Sol into the backroom.

“Err,” said Vace, “what’s the story about? I haven’t read any of your works before.” Nomi’s whole face lit up again, and they smiled wide enough for it to be slightly concerning.

“Omigosh! Okay, so, it all starts with Lunae and Sunala….” 

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing that came out of Sol’s mouth after the door to the backroom closed. Vace stared at their face in confusion. They cleared their throat. “Rex told me about your falling out with the other me,” they explained, “and I know that you and I were…close. So, I’m sorry.” Vace looked at his feet awkwardly, and wondered why his temper wasn’t flaring up right about now.

“There’s nothing you could have done about it,” said Vace, “so don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault you’re– he’s– a stubborn bastard.” Sol’s weight shifted from foot to foot.

“I’m still sorry,” he said, “from what you and Rex have told me, I don’t think he’ll ever come around. But, if it makes you feel any better, I’m willing to give you another chance.” Vace looked up, a little shocked.

“Really?” He asked, “I always thought you hated me.” Sol shrugged.

“I did, but a lot of my anger and hatred towards you was secondhand,” they said, “I really care about Rex, you know? He told me about his childhood and you breaking his arm, and I used to get super angry for him, but since he and Nomi are willing to give you a few chances, I can put aside my weird bias against you. It’s not like you or your friends were ever really that bad towards me anyway, given the whole second personality thing.” 

Sol pursed his lips, his gaze turning a touch sharper.

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re still on thin ice, but I’ll cut you some slack.” Vace raised his hands in a mock surrender.

“Okay,” he said, “that’s fair.” There was a moment of silence before Sol spoke again.

“You know, I thought you’d be much more apprehensive and agitated about this whole conversation,” they said, “but you’re being weirdly calm. Who are you and what did you do with Vace?” Vace huffed, and adamantly refused to give even the slightest hint of amusement at Sol’s terrible joke.

“I thought so too,” he admitted, “it just never came.” Sol crossed their arms.

“Is it weird,” they started, “to be missing that familiar anger?” Vace shrugged.

“Kind of,” he said, frowning, “it’s like I keep expecting to be filled with violence and rage, and I keep preparing for it, but it just never comes. Maybe I’m just incapable of being angry at any version of you.” Sol looked a little uncomfortable, but got over it quickly.

“And when was the last time you were truly at Rex?” They asked. Vace mulled that over in his head for a moment.

“I…don’t actually know,” he said, “I never thought I would see a day where I wasn’t able to come up with a million examples of how angry he makes me.” 

“I think you like him,” said Sol, and Vace sputtered. “Not in the romantic way, dumbass,” added Sol, “just in general.” Vace, now thoroughly flustered, shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he said, “relationships are weird and hard to describe for me. I don’t know why he doesn’t make me as mad as before. I don’t know why his smile makes me want to bend over backwards to keep it on his face. I don’t know why his voice makes me want to make him laugh.” Sol grinned at him.

“I think you’re overwhelmed,” they said, “you haven’t had a single genuine friendship since you were a kid, due to being all scary and aggressive, and here he is, being Rex, and it’s overwhelming you. It’s like you skipped all the friendship tutorials and went straight to the final boss.” Vace’s left hand subconsciously landed on his right arm, and he began to slowly rub circles into his forearm.

“Maybe,” he said, “that combined with all the therapy and anger-management courses…I don’t know if I like these mushy friendship feelings or not.” Sol tilted their head.

“What makes you say that?” They asked. Vace grimaced.

“It’s just all so complicated.” He tore his hand off his arm in the first fit of violent energy he’d had all day, “I’m a fact oriented guy, I like knowing things and I like it when the things I know can be defined and are irrefutable. Manticores are dangerous. Sidesteps are evasive maneuvers. The sky is blue. The seasons change.” He gestured his hands wildly in the air, a little crazily, before he caught himself and reigned his energy back in. “And friendship like this is something I don’t know that much about, and I can’t define it, and it keeps changing.” He looked up at Sol, who looked like he’d only flinched about twice during the whole rant. “Why does it keep changing?” 

Sol shrugged, clearly out of his depth with the amount of vulnerability Vace was showing.

“I don’t know,” they said, “it’s kinda like love. Different for everyone, you know? I can’t explain to you how you feel, because it’s unique to you. And you know, sometimes relationships don’t ever have to be defined. Like what we have. What are we? Enemies? Acquaintances? Friends? Frenemies? I don’t think we’ll ever know, because you’re best friends with an alternate version of me who likes weights and spears and fights, and I’m the next best thing since he won’t speak to you anymore.” That made a spark of anger shoot through Vace like a bullet, and he could feel a familiar heat coil in the pit of his stomach.

“Just because you’re Rex’s friend and I’m trying to make an effort to make up with the people I’ve wronged doesn’t mean you can bring my relationship with you– other Sol– up. Especially if you word it like that. ” His hands curled into fists, and for the first time in a long time, he buried the tips of his nails into the palms of his hands in the hopes that it would be enough to stop him from punching something– or someone. Instead of arguing with him or running away, Sol just lifted his hands in surrender.

“Touched a nerve there,” he said, “I’m sorry.” And suddenly Vace was so far out of his depth (again) that all the anger left him in a dizzy rush.

“What?” He asked, and it felt kind of like an echo. Sol crossed his arms.

“Boundaries,” they said like it was as basic as a left hook, “all relationships need them. I clearly crossed one there and I didn’t mean to, so I apologized.” Vace blinked at him.

“Oh,” he replied, and that sounded like an echo too, “so, like rules? But with friends?” Sol nodded.

“Sure,” they said, “some of them are unspoken, and some of them are verbally set.” His hand fluttered to his ear, where he fidgeted with the hair he found there. It kind of looked like he was looking for a pencil behind his ear. 

“Do you have any?” Vace asked. Sol paused, then shook his head.

“Not really,” they said, “generally, if I don’t like something, I’ll let you know.” Vace leaned back a bit.

“Huh,” he breathed out, “maybe they should teach this stuff in schools.” Sol gave him an amused smile, and he hated how his heart still squeezed a little at the sight.

“I think most kids know how to communicate by the time they hit school,” he said, “I don’t know what you were doing, but most of us don’t need remedial friendship courses.” Vace shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he said, “the guys at the garrison are pretty self-absorbed.” Sol stuck his tongue out.

“That's because they’re the guys at the garrison,” he mentioned, “have you met them?” Vace chuckled.

“Good point.” They lapsed into silence for another few moments before Sol cleared his throat.

“Before we go back out there,” he started, “try to make conversation with Nomi, okay? They’re really important to Rex, so it’ll be good for you two to get along.” Vace cringed.

“I have nothing in common with them,” he said, “I don’t even know what they like.” Sol grinned.

“Easy fix,” he said, “ask them to explain the plot of their Holo Novel to you.” 

Having Rex’s Sol as a friend was like a bandaid that was much too small for the wound. He was so different from the Sol Vace was used to that it irked him. He kept expecting them to say specific things and understand all their inside jokes, but it never happened. It was like having a carbon copy of his best friend, and still having to sit them down and teach them all their stories, explain every memory, and relearn every attitude and mannerism. I miss you , Vace thought, but Sol was sitting right there. There was no debate that this version of Sol was better for whatever weird therapy journey he was going on; he was less prone to anger, more understanding, and had more patience. In the same way, Sol was worse for the therapy journey, because being around him felt like a direct reminder of what he’d already lost. 

What made it worse was the fact that there was a hopeful part of Vace that wanted to believe that he and his Sol were still friends, despite it all. He kept approaching Sol under the hope that they were Rex’s Sol, and if they weren’t, that they would just roll with it and have a conversation with him. Instead, if it was his Sol, they would just glare at him, and leave. He was probably under the impression that Vace was following him around and trying to get him to talk to him despite countless obvious dismissals. That stung more than anything. 

Rex’s Sol didn’t even fully trust him. When Vace hung around him, he was civil enough, but he would tell that they were still waiting for him to fuck it all up. They watched him a tad too closely whenever he interacted with Rex, and was always too mindful whenever he tried to engage in a conversation with Nomi. It wasn’t exactly a vote of confidence, and being openly distrusted like that just made him remember his crumbled relationship with the other Sol. Vace was beginning to think that a friendship with this Sol wasn’t ever going to be possible.

“Vace,” called Rex, “I’ve been calling you for like two minutes, man. Where’d you go?” Vace had learned early on that when Rex or Nomi said ‘ where’d you go, ’ it was in reference to daydreaming and spacing out, and not physical places. (It made for an awkward conversation the first time Rex had said it.) 

“Nowhere,” he replied, “just thinking.” Rex grinned at him.

“About what? Thinking can be dangerous, y’know.” Vace shook his head.

“Nothing important.” He looked up and met Rex’s eyes, and was a little bit disturbed when he realized that he could decipher exactly what the look in his eyes meant: an understanding that he was caught up in thoughts about Sol. 

“On that subject,” said Rex, “I think we have another problem about them.” Vace straightened up.

“What do you mean?” He asked, a little panicked. Rex grimaced.

“It’s getting worse,” Rex said, “it’s subtle now, but it’s like he’s starting to lose his entire sense of self.” Vace bit his lip.

“Is your Sol and my Sol bleeding into each other?” Rex nodded dejectedly.

“Seems so,” he said, “they keep switching on a dime, and now they’re having mood swings– I already spoke to Tangent again, and she said the same thing as the first time. There’s nothing wrong with him physically, and he’s already been going to congruence’s self-help therapy things so she said he’s just going to deteriorate until–” He broke off. Vace felt his heart drop a little bit.

“Until there’s nothing left,” he filled in. Rex nodded. He was shaking a little bit. Vace wanted to take his hands and steady them, but he was shaking worse. Rex ran a hand through his hair. 

“You know,” he started, “I never thought I would lose a friend like this,” he said. “I always figured that if they were going to go, they’d go during Glow, or on an expedition. Those are quick deaths, and it would have killed me too, but this? This is worse. Watching them become a husk of their former selves and being unable to help…Stars, this is worse.” Vace didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. Rex kept talking. “Sometimes people tell me that I feel too much,” he said, “that I have too much empathy, or something, and fuck, maybe it’s true, y’know? I feel like everybody else has already accepted this possibility, and here I am, still freaking out.” 

“That’s funny,” interrupted Vace, “sometimes people tell me that I need to care more, and that I don’t feel compassion, but I can feel this deep-rooted panic in me that just won’t go away, and I’m–” He let out a shaky kind of breath, one that he hadn’t heard come from himself since he was a kid, “I don’t know how to describe it.” Rex chuckled humourlessly. He looked like he was about to cry.

“Like the world is being ripped away from you,” he said, “like the stars are aligning in the wrong direction. Like your heart is being ripped out of your chest and stomped into the ground.” Vace joined his pained laughing.

“Like your skin is being ripped apart,” he added, “and your limbs are lead.” Rex let out a breath that sounded a little like a sob.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Vace,” he said, “I don’t know if I can lose him.” In the months of budding friendship with Rex, he’d learned that sometimes, Rex needed pressure. Pressure on his skin, over his body, something solid and firm to keep him grounded whenever he felt untethered. And so Vace stepped forward and opened his arms in the invitation of a hug; and Rex took it without hesitation. 

Vace held him firmly, trying his best not to let his own emotions wrack his body with uneven breaths, and let Rex cry into his shoulder. 

“I don’t want him to know,” said Rex eventually, “I don’t want him to deal with that confusion and the pain of it all. We’ll just–” he paused. “We’re just going to have to watch it happen, and do nothing.” Vace wanted to punch a wall. He wanted to march into the garrison and challenge the nearest soldier to a gruelling fight in the ring. He wanted to scream. He already lost Sol once. He didn’t know if he could do it again. He wanted to run past the colony walls without knowing if he was going to return. He wanted to fight a Manticore and feel the pain of its claws ripping into him. He didn’t do any of that; he had an armful of Rex, and he would rather die than let him go. So he reigned in his anger, again, and tightened his hold. 

It was obvious now. Sol had constant mood wings, attitude changes, and personality traits that didn’t mix. One second he was kind and gentle, and the next he was argumentative and violent. Nobody was safe from his rage anymore, swinging back and forth like a pendulum; and most people had deemed him crazy. He couldn’t even do his job as chief engineer anymore; he kept having memory gaps that tore through his extensive knowledge of the subject. Instance and Tangent threw themselves into research and tests to see if they could reverse the effects of his illness or at least figure out the cause, but neither of them came up with anything. The speed  at which he was degrading kept increasing, and by the end of the second month, most of the sentences he spoke were meaningless and incoherent. 

By the third month, Lum had caught on, and put out an official statement: Sol was going to be contained in an empty housing area to be monitored and treated for his illness separate from the rest of the colony. 

“He’s just putting them in an asylum,” said Tangent, “and he’s probably going to forget about them until the problem magically goes away.” She said it sarcastically, her tone bitter and disgusted. “He doesn’t even know if this kind of thing is contagious or not; we need to run more tests until we find the problem and figure out how to fix it.” 

“Poor thing,” said Tammy, her voice quiet and grief-stricken, “he was so kind to me and the kids.” Her lower lip wobbled, and Cal moved forward to comfort her. “He even designed me a special living space so I could feel safe…” Marz crossed her arms.

“Stars,” she said, “of course Lum chooses the stupid, short-sighted solution. If Sol’s ever going to get better, he needs social interaction! What’s he going to do cooped up in there with a stupid no visitors policy? Can someone assassinate Lum already?” Anemone side-eyed her for the comment, but like Marz, she showed no shame and no remorse. She sighed.

“He was an exemplary soldier,” she said, “could keep up with Vace and I easily…he was one of our best.” She balled her hands into fists. “Can he at least have some weights in there or something? A treadmill? He needs to keep up his physical activity.” Dys shook his head.

“I doubt Lum will let him have anything ,” he grumbled, “the guy doesn’t care about anything but himself.” 

“This is so stupid!” Protested Nomi, “why can’t we do anything about this? I don’t care that we’re just kids or whatever, Sol’s our friend!” Marz sighed and shook her head.

“Unfortunately the bone-headed council members are all loyal to Lum, as reluctant as they are. They won’t want to go against him, even if it’s for a cause such as Sol. Besides, Sol’s been deteriorating with his whole personality disorder thing for a long time. Years, even. Deep down, everybody knew something like this was going to happen.” Rex and Vace remained silent. The group watched as the soldiers led Sol into their designated prison, Rhett still violently arguing with Fluorescent. Bits and pieces of the shouting could be heard from up the hill.

“I’m sorry,” said Rhett, “if it were up to me, this wouldn't be happening.” Fluorescent’s posture was straight and defensive, her fists clenched at her sides as if she was preparing to fight him. 

“That’s my son,” she said, her voice deep and powerful like a growl, “you’re telling me Lum won’t even let us visit? So what? Is he just going to rot in there for all time? Is that our governor’s grand solution?!” Rhett had a deep frown on his face.

“I promise you that I will do all that I can to get him to budge on some of the policies,” he said, “but that’s all I can do.” From the group, Marz huffed.

“I should get down there and help them formulate a better plan for getting that meathead Lum to budge on this,” she said, “between the three of us, we can probably come up with something helpful.” She trudged down the hill, her body tight and coiled like a snake prepared to strike. Rex drifted closer to Vace, as if he needed the contact to stay grounded. Vace let him press himself against him, knowing that Rex needed the pressure. 

“So this is it, then,” said Rex, sniffling, “it’s over.” Vace adjusted a little to make Rex more comfortable. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what words there were to say. Watching the soldiers, Aphy and Gyro, march Sol into the house felt like the closing of a chapter in his life. The thought made him antsy. 

“What does this mean for us?” He asked, because he had to know. Rex stiffened against him.

“What do you want it to mean?” He responded. Vace shrugged, feeling a little hopeful despite the crushing amounts of despair.

“I know that this started because of Sol,” he said, “but I don’t want it to end because they’re no longer here.” Rex punched him.

“Don’t talk about him like he’s dead,” he protested, “he’s not.” Vace grimaced.

“Sorry,” he said, “that was wrong of me. But–” Rex interrupted him.

“Vace,” he growled, “stop talking.” Vace obediently shut up. Rex took a deep breath. “I know that there’s a part of you that desperately needs to know where we stand,” he sympathized, “but now is not the time. Let’s grieve first and talk later.” Vace nodded.

“Okay,” he said, “I can do that.” The door to the building closed, and Vace felt like the sound of it echoed all across Vertumna. I hope to all the stars that will listen, he thought, that I will see you again.  

[ FILE EXTRAS: VACE AND REX. ] 

( “How can you still be my friend?” Asked Vace on a later night, “after every horrible thing I did to you?” Rex leaned back in his chair. 

“You know,” he said, “I have a lot of bad memories of you. With you. Around you. Just a lot of bad memories in general.” Vace grimaced, staring down at the table. Rex tapped it, startling him into looking up again and meeting his eyes. “But,” he continued, “I’m more than happy to make better ones with you as long as you’re willing to change.”)

(“It doesn’t ever go away,” said Rex, pointed between Vace and himself, “I will always have the memories of the things you’ve done in my head. I carry them on my skin. You scared me for a long time. Sometimes, I wake up, and I’m still scared of you.” He took Vace’s hand in his, and felt a quiet pride at their lack of tension. They shook a little bit, and Rex steadied them. “I think it’ll be like that for a while,” he admitted, “it doesn’t go away. But it gets better. One day, I’ll wake up, and it won’t affect me anymore.”)

[ END OF MEMORY ] 

[ REPLAY: YES / NO ]

Chapter Text

[ LIFE ?????? ] 

[ NAME: ????? ] 

[ PLAY / PAUSE ] 

They were losing their mind. She was going insane. He just couldn’t keep all his lives separate. They kept bleeding into each other, kept influencing her every turn, kept turning her around and spacing her out. They would blink, would move, would breathe, their heart would beat, and it was like they were taken to an entirely different world, one where they were aggressive, one where she was smart, one where he had kids, one where she was a soldier, three where they were engineers– 

It was hard to keep track of which life was which. Sometimes, he could be sitting in the engineering lab and get a burst of energy and skill that could only point to the garrison. Other times, she could be Geoponics and get the odd urge to start writing Holo Novels. Skills and lives tended to bleed into each other, getting worse and worse as the lives dragged on, people blended together, outcomes, deaths, lives, memories, voices, thoughts–

[ MEMORY FILE CORRUPTED. RESETTING… ]

More often than not, they ended up in an abandoned house on the side of the colony. It was empty, quiet, padded, with nothing to do and nowhere to go. A guard would sit in front of the house all day making sure that people were following Lum’s stupid crazy people policy. Half the time they were there, they weren’t even that far gone. Maybe they spaced out a little too long here, twitched a little too much there, and followed one too many impulses; but none of those were crimes. All the dishes were broken. All the food was rotten. There were papers all over the floors, ripped to shreds, tatters of clothes and white-chalk drawings, (there’s something wrong with you, said Marz, squinting, I just don’t know what), spiderwebs, maps, lists, reminders, memories, people, figments, shards, glass, cracked, shattered, sprawled–

[ MEMORY FILE UPDATED: WAR HERO. ] 

And then there was the voice in the back of their head, the one that begged and screamed and shouted, pounding against the walls of its enclosure, the scream, surly, desperate, shrill, deep, terrified, affirmed– savethemsavethemsavethem – 

So they did. He guided Tangent towards the shimmer cure, she worked hard until the famine was solved, they trained and trained and trained until they could take down a Faceless, she built houses, he practiced law, they taught the future of Vertumna; and still, it there there, in the back of their head, a call, a bell, a toll, ringing, an alarm– savethemsavethemsavethemsavethem–

Sometimes it was hard not to listen. They’re just dreams, she would tell herself, they mean nothing , he convinced himself, don’t listen to them, and they would wake up in the morning and move on with their day; but those were always the lives that unravelled the quickest. Like a yarn ball rolling down a hill, or a snowball, unravelling, building, getting bigger, threatening to crash, leaving knots and tangles of information in its wake, uprooting snow, ( you’re acting odd, noted Rex, is everything okay?), falling, falling, spinning, rolling, and– 

[ FILE ERROR: GOVERNOR LUM THINKS YOU’RE CRAZY. ARE YOU? ]

Before he knew it, she was back in that stupid house. Sometimes, the council could get them some visiting hours, and other times he never spoke to another person ever again. Crazy crazy crazy crazy crazy, and every time she woke up and they were ten years old again, on the Stratospheric, he wished he could forget it all. Kill him, kill her, and leave them with just themselves, rid themselves of the millions of versions that lived in his head, in her mind, in their brain; it just wanted it all to stop. ( Are you sure, asked Anemone, and she was holding a tattoo gun, this is a lot more than I was asking for.) She wanted to drive a screw into her head, he wanted to impale his hand on a knife, they wanted to jump off the garrison walls; but there were things to do, people to save, lives to live, jobs to acquire, things to learn, aliens to meet–

[ FILE ERROR: THE WORLD WILL SPIN WITHOUT YOU. ]

White silhouettes stood tall over the wall, and she could have sworn that they were ghosts. Ghosts of what? The past? The future? The present? The ghosts hidden in their closet next to the skeletons and every buried secret they’d tried to protect? Colours blending into stitched seams, lives bleeding into lives, skills and occupations and friends and information mixing in their head until they felt like they’d been put in a blender, circling the drain, round and round and round and round and– They were missing the point. They were sure of it. The ghosts, ghouls, skeletons, secrets, the silhouettes, disappeared. In their place were Anemone and Vace, hand in hand, looking out over the walls. Emotions mixed in the air, and for a moment, she fell in love with them. Then, the moment faded and the warmth was replaced by the harsh edge of hatred, and abuse rang in their head like a bell, and the urge to save was back, an itching under their skin so intense that they took half a step forward–

It was getting obvious. In every life now, every single life, someone noticed. They peeked into her head like it was a book, read lines from thoughts, and every time, they would become a science experiment. ( There’s nothing wrong with her, said Tangent, nothing at all. ) What was the point of all these attempts? Was there a point? Why was he stuck, over and over and over again, saving them, again and again, over and over, and even in those tiny little specks of life without any death, they were still sent back to live it all over again, lives bleeding into lives, voice to voices, people to people, friendships to friendships–

[ FILE ERROR: TOO MANY PEOPLE NOTICED. REPLAYING… ]

It had to stop eventually, right? There had to be a way to break the cycle. There had to be a way to get that ancient one at the end of the road to stop coming, to get her to stop taking him back, to get the world to keep turning past the life of one measly little exocolonist. There must be something he could do, something she could find, something they could exploit that would stop all of these cycles. The death that occurred within them no longer mattered. Nothing mattered. Their breathing was erratic, their pupils dilated, their hands shaking, muscles clenching (what’s wrong with them, asked Vace, and his voice is far away, are they dying or something?) and the world goes black. 

The world kept going black, before fading back to white, and every time he woke up, ten years old, fading memories stuck in her head, all they wanted to do was die. Her eyes were wide, and she was laughing too much, scaring the kids (is she okay, whispered Tammy, eight years old, she doesn’t look okay.) At the same time, they wanted to live, wanted to see if maybe this was the life that it finally stopped, maybe this was the life where they could finally do something right, finally let go, finally be dropped off into whatever came after properly, ( you always have the best ideas, said Nomi cautiously, but these are kinda scary ), or maybe they would fuck it all up again and end up back in that stupid fucking house with that stupid fucking guard and the governor who wouldn’t let her do so much as sneeze without signing a–

[ FILE CORRUPTED. RETRYING… ]

He didn’t know how much longer he could keep doing this. Waiting, living, dying, stealing time, borrowing time, taking time, being given time, too much of it, waiting, living, dying, and she was just waiting for something, anything to crash and burn and take them with it. There was a beg, a scream, a shout, a word, a poem, a letter, in the back of her throat, leave me alone, take me instead, kill me, let me live, let me die, let me, let me, LET ME, LETMELETMELETME-

[ FILE ERROR: YOU ARE ONE IN A TRILLION. ] 

The world kept spinning. It would keep spinning. It had already spun, stopped spinning, started again, and she just spun with it. Now though, it felt like she could remember every spin, every season, every event and little announcement, every roadmap, everything that had every happened in the history of Vertumna, learning the same things over and over again, dying over and over again, drowning, mauled, burned to death, old age, murder, the shimmer, starvation, the gardeners, explosions– JUST TAKE ME JUST TAKE ME JUST TAKE ME LEAVE ME, LET ME, PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEJUSTTAKEME–

[ FILE ERROR: YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE. ]

☀︎ ❍ ☽  

( “I hope you can manage to do it again, because you’re not done yet.” )

   .

   .

   .

   ( We’re special, aren’t we?)

            .

            .

            .

            .

            . 

            .

            .

            .

         We really can save them.

[ END OF MEMORY ] 

[ REPLAY: YES / NO ]

Chapter Text

[ LIFE 1 ]

[ NAME: GERANIUM ]

[ PLAY / PAUSE ]

Geranium holds his son for the first time when he is thirty one. Little eyes blink up at him, full of wonder and emotion and tears, and something in him breaks. He does not shatter, not like glass, does not splinter from the center like a mirror with a bullet wound; it is a gentle break, clean in two, the slow disintegration of life and the gentle erosion of rocks. He is undone, completely unstrung, like a guitar that had gone out of tune during the night. His son’s name is Sol, and his eyes are so bright . He is the future, he is the present, and he would carry elements of the past; he will carry the names of his family far, and in doing so, he will bring the past to the present and the present to the future. 

A tear slips down his cheek, tracing a gentle line on his face, a happy tear that accompanies his shaky smile. He rocks his son gently in his arms, seeing that wonder, that happiness, the curiosity, the joy, and even those tiny little tears, and thinks he’s perfect. Fluorescent smiles at him from her spot in the hospital’s bed, her eyes happy and soft, and he breaks just that little bit more. He has always been a family man. He was a son, and then an older brother, then an uncle, and now a father; and there is nothing more precious to him. A little bundle of warmth cradled in his arms, eyes slowly slipping closed as he is rocked back and forth, back and forth. 

In the center of Geranium’s chest, the broken pieces begin to mend together again. Something far stronger brews, comes together through family and comfort, and it becomes a bonfire. He is a bonfire, even as he sits here, his son in his arms and his wife on the bed, soaking in the love to fuel his flames and giving it back in the form of comfort. He loves his son, he knows, and he will love him no matter what. He holds him even as his arms grow tired, and sings him lullabies he makes up on the spot. Eventually, he settles down on the bed beside Fluorescent, tucking their child carefully between them and delivering a gentle kiss on each of their heads. Her smile gets that much wider and that much softer, and Sol coos gently in his sleep. 

[ LIFE 2 ]

[ NAME: FLUORESCENT ]

[ PLAY / PAUSE ]

Fluorescent never thought she’d have a kid. She never thought she’d have a lover either, nor a happy life. People like her were meant for fighting. They were meant to man the front lines, to speak up, to talk with their voices regardless of who cared enough to listen. They were meant to inspire the shy, to put forward the motions for others to agree with, to pick up a weapon and defend what they believed to be right; and then came Geranium, and a few years later, came their daughter Solana. 

Fluorescent never thought she’d have a kid, and yet there she was, cradling her daughter in her arms. She’s so small. She’s tiny, and any little movement could hurt her. Her bones are soft and her skin is pliable, and it only makes Fluorescent think of how fragile she is. She does not break; not in the way she knows her husband is. Instead, she strengthens. Her bones grow hard as diamonds, her skin tough and unbreakable, as if to compensate for the softness of her daughter. Ice thaws in her heart, but in its place comes something colder, more foreboding. She has never been one for family, only a daughter and nothing else, but when she holds little Solana in her arms, it feels right. She is a fighter, and she will always be a fighter, but now she thinks of herself as a protector as well.

Solana is sleeping soundly, fragile bones and breakable skin, and Fluorescent freezes further, stone cold conviction fueling her. Geranium is soft when she glances at him, always soft, always gentle, always the family man she knew him to be. Her instincts tell her that he is too soft, and that she is too rough. Her instincts tell her that she will ruin him, will cut him to pieces, will freeze him completely, but by now, she knows better. Fluorescent is holding their daughter, and she is perfect; and Geranium is a warmth unlike anything she’s ever known. He will melt her just as she will freeze him; and Solana will be their perfect balance. 

[ LIFE 13 ]

[ NAME: GERANIUM ]

[ PLAY / PAUSE ]

Solane is ten now, and they’re just starting to branch out to the other kids on the Stratosphere. Of course, there has always been Marz, who approached them at five and immediately decided that they were her best friend, but Solane wasn’t that social with anyone else. They’re an odd duo, with Marz being social, unapologetic, and loud, and with Solane being quiet and socially awkward, but they make it work. Geranium finds it endearing. It reminds him of himself and Fluorescent, back before they were dating; an introvert and an extrovert dragging each other into trouble at the ringing of a bell.

Solane is a pretty normal kid. They gave them an intelligence augment, knowing that it would be needed for when they eventually landed on Vertumna. Geranium expected them to gravitate towards Tangent, the only other kid who seemed to be interested in alien life forms and sciences, while Fluorescent bet that they would end up close friends with Cal or Tammy; neither of them expected Marz. She and Solane were almost opposites in every way, and yet nobody understood the other better than each other. 

“Dad!” Calls Solane, coming to a stop from his run, his little fingers grabbing Geranium’s pants. “Marz’s birthday is coming up soon,” they say, “and I don’t have a gift for her!” Geranium crouches down, sweeping them into his arms. “Well that won’t do,” he says, “what were you thinking, Sprout?” Solane’s little tongue pokes out of their mouth while they think about it. After another couple of moments, Geranium speaks again. “What does she like?” 

“Marz likes money,” Solane says, very matter-of-fact, “she says that one day she’ll be able to buy a lot of stuff with all these credits she’s accumulating when we get to wherever we’re going, so I don’t wanna just get her a toy!” They take a breath, staring at Geranium’s face, “I don’t know what to do. Dad, I don’t like not knowing things! Tell me what to do.” He chuckles and gently swats away Solane’s wandering hands.

“Why don’t we bake her something?” He suggests, “you can ask Tammy for a recipe, and we can spend the day before her birthday making her a cake.” Solane pouts.

“But I’ve never baked before,” they say, “what if I mess it up?” Geranium chuckles.

“There’s a reason why baking comes with instructions,” he says, “and I’ll be right there with you to make sure nothing goes bad. We can even invite Tammy to bake with us, and you know that she’s a baking expert.” 

Solane goes quiet at that, probably at the mention of interacting with another kid who isn’t Marz. Still, their conviction over getting Marz a birthday gift far outweighs their uncertainty. 

“Okay,” they say, their voice suddenly small and quiet. Geranium feels a little burst of warmth flood through his chest, and he smiles gently at them. 

“Okay,” he says, solidifying their plans, “what kind of cake do you want to bake?” Solane goes a little stiff in his arms, and he knows that they’re going to have another little crisis over the flavour of the baking. He sighs, but his chest gets that much warmer as he does. 

[ LIFE 24 ]

[ NAME: FLUORESCENT ]

[ PLAY / PAUSE ]

Vertumna’s soil is nothing like Earth’s. It shares similar properties, maintains similar moisture levels and sustains plant life, but all the content is off. It makes sense with Vertumna having a different atmosphere and being made of a different overall substance, but it makes working in Geoponics so much harder. 

There was always going to be a learning curve, and Geoponics isn’t the only department needing to learn new tricks. Instance and Tangent are working overtime trying to figure out the structures of all the natural materials and what’s poisonous and what isn’t; in a way, the entire survival of the colony is dependent on how quickly they can figure it out. The council members, Fluorescent included, can’t seem to stop arguing over what the best course of action is. Hal and Congruence can’t start educating the kids until things are experimented on and proven; until then, they’ve been stuck with teaching them about Earth and linguistics. Both of those are fine subjects, but some of the kids have been eager to move on, mainly Cal and Tangent. 

They still haven’t figured out what’s going on with the construction sector. Or, more accurately, they still don’t have one. Eudicot is saying that it’s not the biggest issue; once they move all the things in storage outside of the Stratospheric, the extra rooms can be used for housing. Rhett disagrees, and so does Instance, but Eudicot’s word, for now, is law. 

In times like these, Fluorescent wishes she were smart enough when she had Solstice to give him an intelligence augment, or something a little more suited to helping the adults figure it all out. Everybody knows how integral Tangent’s been in this whole process, and she’s Solstice’s age. Instead, she and Geranium had given him strength, hoping that it would help him survive in a strange world; and it had led to a son who was too preoccupied playing Sportsball with Anemone to do any of his schoolwork. He’s a frustrating kid, but she’d been told that all kids were, bar Tammy. Most of her irritation came from unfruitful harvests and long restless nights, and not from her kid who just happened to enjoy sports. She hopes he’ll grow up to be a soldier, one of Rhett’s very best, to make it all worth it. 

She’s icy, and Geranium has been just as exhausted lately, so he hasn’t been around to thaw her out. It means that she’s meaner, more rigid, and judgemental. She’s at the end of her rope, nearly out of battery, and her hyperactive plant-hating kid is making things worse. Fluorescent is trying to be the gentle mother Solstice wants her to be, but it’s hard. It’s hard because the seasons are unknown, and so are the elements in the soil, and they don’t even have a proven safe and sustainable food source yet. Solstice is ten, and he doesn’t really understand the stress of moving here; he is filled with the same wonder and curiosity that the other kids are. He is not struck with fear like Tammy, and he’s not wary of the grass like Tangent; he barrels into the unknown, hand in hand with Anemone, and it’s as infuriating as it is worrying. 

[ LIFE 137 ]

[ NAME: GERANIUM ]

[ PLAY / PAUSE ]

The Heliopause is just something they have to learn to work around. Most of them are pompous and privileged, the byproduct of being bossed around by people like Lum. They jeer at him and his tired bones, and the colony, which Lum promised would merge into one community, is split down the middle. In parts, it is blended; Rhett commands both the Stratos and the Helios, and it leads to a military team that is as connected as it is separated. Vace, the up-and-coming hot-shot, heads a rivalry with Anemone, and it leads to both arguments and bonding. Few Helios bother to join Tangent and Instance in the science wing, which both of them were grateful for. The ones who do are quieter and more down-to-Vertumna, learning and following directions under Instance and Tangent’s guidance. 

Few of them join Geranium in Geoponics. They are also quieter, but they carry a conviction that most Geoponics members have. It comes from a genuine interest in the forestry and the plants, and a desire to see both colonies well fed. One Helio kid goes back and forth between every industry, trying to find something that works for them. Their name is Nomination, or Nomi as they insist on being called, and they and Rex are the Helios' saving grace. While most of them are rude and snippy, Nomi and Rex have always been friendly and welcoming. It’s clear that even within the divide between the Stratospheric and the Heliopause, there are more lines between factions on the Heliopause. Rex stands on one side of the line, Nomi beside him, and Vace stands on the other side. Behind Vace stands everyone else. At times, they switch sides; cautious straying into Rex’s territory for a quick chat, a conversation, or just for the night. By morning, they are all firmly behind Vace again. Most of the Stratos, Geranium included, stay far away from the line, but they’re on Rex’s side.

For five years on Vertumna, construction had never been a big deal. They had enough ships, nobody had been cleared for pregnancy yet, and there was no need for additional housing. Then came the Heliopause, a ship much more designed for combat than it was for shelter, and problems started coming up. Suddenly, there wasn’t enough space. But the problem brought its own solution; and that solution, standing firmly on one side of the line, was Rex. With the arrival of Rex came the arrival of blueprints and plans. Despite being a Helio, Rex was able to get together a fair group of people from both colonies, and they’d started work a mere month into living on Vertumna. 

Geranium knew that with a boy such as Rex living in their colony, it was only a matter of time before Solace took notice of him. She’d always been attracted to charismatic and extroverted people, having been best friends with both Anemone and Marz as a younger kid, and Rex was the pinnacle of both those things. It really isn’t all that surprising when Geranium looks across the field and spots her with Rex and Nomi. She’s practically hanging off of Rex’s shoulder, teasing him for something or other, and she looks happy. It makes something in him glow with quiet pride. The arrival of the Heliopause wasn’t easy on any of them, but sometimes, in moments like these, Geranium thinks that it can grow to be a good thing. 

[ LIFE 245 ]

[ NAME: FLUORESCENT ]

[ PLAY / PAUSE ]

Fluorescent works day and night to stop the starvation. It’s on the edge of happening again, the Helios bringing too many mouths and not enough rations. She’ll fight like hell before she lets another famine through their gates. It doesn't matter that her bones are aching with something fierce, or that her exhaustion is almost certainly reaching her heart at this point; she’ll fight through it. She’ll fight through it for Geranium, she’ll fight through it for Solaria, and she’ll fight through it for the colony. 

The first famine hit them early, and it only stopped because of Solaria. They were always a stubborn kid, trying to get Fluorescent to eat more and work less, uncaring of the state of the colony’s food and the tragedy that would come after. They were so stubborn that they’d pushed to be part of the scavenging teams, working harder than anybody their age should have just so Fluorescent could have a break. Back then, she’d believed that it wouldn’t make a difference; but that was before Solaria returned from their third ever expedition with a rare kind of edible fungus that could be cultivated and mass-produced for food. Suddenly, Solaria was a hero, and Fluorescent was a fool, but she couldn’t have cared less about the state of their reputations; all she cared about was showering her kid in love. She’d never been so prideful, never had something precious to show off, but Solaria had always been special. Even without an augment, they had always been special. 

She thinks about sending Solaria out into the field again to see if they’ll come back with another miracle food; the thought is laughable. They’ve already explored all of what Vertumna had to offer, Rhett leading teams further and further past the walls to see if there was anything they missed; every time, nothing new ever comes up. Solaria’s first major discovery, the mass-produced fungus, was their only food source as they desperately searched for another one. The birds and other animals they’d been eating for protein had suddenly turned poisonous, a rapid and over-night evolution that had Instance and Tangent working non-stop in the lab for half a week straight. Neither of them slept and neither of them ate, and in the end, they’d come to a conclusion; none of the food sources were safe to eat anymore except for the damn fungus. 

Solaria is a miracle kid, and Fluorescent is grateful that they’d picked up an interest in Geoponics. There are millions of ways life on Vertumna could have gone, so it’s a good thing they decided to follow in the footsteps of their parents. Geoponics will be in good hands when the planet eventually takes her and Geranium, that much is certain. 

“Mom, why don’t you take a break?” Suggests Solaria from behind her, creeping into the lab, “you’ve been working all day.” She gives the kid a chuckle, but it sounds weak and depressing.

“I have to fix this,” she says, “go get some rest, Kid.” Solaria doesn’t like that response, and so they do what they always do when they know they're right about something: dig their heels into the ground and refuse to budge.

“I can take over for you,” they insist, “you and dad taught me everything I need to know for this kind of work. I can do it.” Fluorescent has no doubts that they can, and that they will; but the block of ice inside of her is still cold, and she is still protective.

“No,” says Fluorescent, “I’m fine.” It’s a lie, and they both know it. Solaria grumbles and spins on their heels, walking towards the door in quick steps. 

“I’m getting dad,” they threaten, and it’s like they know about the ice and the fire. Fluorescent lets out another little chuckle, but this one is lighter.

“You do that,” she says, but she knows that between the two of them, she won’t be able to say no. Love does funny things to the heart. 

[ LIFE 746 ]

[ NAME: GERANIUM ]

[ PLAY / PAUSE ] 

Geranium has always been one for books. Before all the stress of leaving Earth and boarding the Stratospheric, he used to love reading. There was nothing better to him than having an afternoon off and cracking open a good drink and a better book, soaking up the sun and the words and marveling at the universes people were able to create. He liked being able to gasp and drop his jaw dramatically at a twist he hadn’t been able to predict just for the sake of it. Now that he was on Vertumna, reading had lost its whimsy. There was too much work to be done, and there weren’t any more physical books; reading on his holopalm wasn’t the same.

Today, Solange was out with Nomi and Cal, talking about holonovels and asking about plants and other biological matter; something about their latest holonovel. He’d gotten published last year with a collaboration he did with Nomi. Geranium had read it, and it was pretty good for a first publication; and that wasn’t just his pride talking. It had a solid plotline and relatable characters, even containing a twist that nobody who had read it had predicted. Solange and Nomi are getting ready to release their second novel, something about detectives and criminals and an all-seeing eye (Geranium was only half-listening to the synopsis), and the last little bit requires some additional notes on the grass. Or something. 

Geranium tried hard to seem interested in the novels Solange and Nomi worked on, but he made an active effort to block all their words out. Not because he didn’t care, but because he hated spoilers. He’s bound to read whatever his son puts out next no matter how terrible said son thinks it is, so he tries his best to avoid hearing about it before it’s published. Despite that, he ends up being the one Solange goes to when he needs an opinion.

“Go to your mom,” he tries telling him, “she’ll probably give you a better perspective anyway.” Solange huffs, crosses his arms, and Geranium already knows he's lost the argument.

“Mom doesn’t care about books like you do,” he complains, “she probably has no idea what a simile is.” He’s right and Geranium knows he is, but that doesn’t mean he won’t put up a little more of a fight.

“Why don’t you ask Rex then?” He asks. It’s a point he’s brought up before. Solange makes a face.

“Rex will just go with whatever Nomi says,” he says, “or he’ll suggest something too outlandish. And he’s busy!” 

“And I’m not?” Fires back Geranium just to be bratty. It’s times like these when he forgets how old he and Solange actually are; it feels like he’s forty-two and Solange is eleven again. 

“That’s not the point,” says Solange, and he’s definitely pouting, “are you going to help me with this or not?” After that, Geranium gives in. He always does, and he always will.

There’s a certain kind of warmth that comes with reading one of Solange’s novels. It’s clear which ideas come from him and which come from Nomi, but they’re blended together so effortlessly that it’s hard to pick out when one idea stops and when another starts. Either way, they’re comforting, gentle, and they speak to him in a way that other books don’t. Reading them reminds him of simpler times, afternoons on his porch. He still gasps when something interesting happens, and his jaw still drops at every little twist and turn. Solange scowls playfully at him whenever he does it. He thinks it’s because Geranium’s playing up how good the novels actually are. He doesn’t know that Geranium reacts like this to every book he reads, no matter the level and no matter the content.

One thing’s for certain though; Solange has brought joy back to reading. 

[ DEATH 9873 ]

[ NAME: FLUORESCENT ]

[ PLAY / PAUSE ] 

Death is a familiar feeling. She doesn’t know why. It encircles her like a blanket, and the shape they make together is warm in its silence. It sits on the edge of her mind and waits for her to fall asleep before it comes to take her. There’s a warm hand clasped on her right, but her left is empty. If she opens her eyes, she knows that she’ll see Soleil on her right, and a ghost on her left. 

Their fireplace is cold. It has been. It once was warm enough to chase away the chilly winter breeze, but now it’s not even ashen. It’s barren, like a wasteland, but there is still the child it once warmed, and the touch of his skin still carries its warmth. Death is a familiar feeling, and it covers her in silence and comfort, melts her ice and replaces it with emptiness, taking her panic and giving her calm. It takes her protectiveness and her will to fight, and she doesn’t know what it does with them; soon enough, it takes everything else too. The hand that holds her own squeezes, goes tight and taught over her skin, and part of her wants to open her eyes and reassure him that he will be okay. He isn’t, not right now, but he will be. She doesn't open her eyes, and she doesn’t squeeze back. She’s too tired, her bones are aching, and she feels as if the string that ties her stubbornly to life is slowly falling apart; and in its place is a fishing line that catches on the edge of her shirt and pulls her away from life and towards the empty fireplace. 

[ DEATH 98347 ] 

[ NAME: GERANIUM ] 

[ PLAY / PAUSE ]

Death is a feeling he hoped would not come until he was withered. But here it is, knocking harshly on the edge of his mind like an unwelcome visitor. His entire body feels too hot, fungus taking hold over his skin and in his bloodstream, using it as a vessel. Death, prying open his door, feels colder, and he almost wants to open the door; but opening it would mean leaving. He doesn’t want to leave. His skin is searing where it touches the blankets, and it burns where his hands are held; but he doesn’t want to let go.

His daughter is crying. The tears slide down her face, and because she’s leaning so far forward, they land like hot little droplets of rain on the fabric of his shirt. That burns too, but he’s not mad about it. He couldn’t be. She's holding his fingers gently, as if she’s afraid that gripping him just a little bit harder would break him. I am already undone, he thinks, because it’s true, I am already broken. He is not referring to the shimmer running rampant in his body, or the harrowing years he’d spent trying to make life on Vertumna work; he is talking about being thirty-one again, and holding his daughter in his arms for the very first time. 

His eyes are open, but they are sightless. A sharp and dream-like pink is all he can see. He knows it’s because the fungus is in his eyes. It should be terrifying, but it isn’t. His other hand is being held, and it’s hot, but only in the way holding ice can be. It freezes bitter frost along his skin, and it burns. He no longer has the energy to warm it, even as the flames that lick his bloodstream continue to blaze. She’s crying too. The sounds are broken and halted, and he knows it’s because she has never before allowed herself to cry like this. Even during famine, she has always been strong, always been the protector, always been the one people could look up to. He squeezes her hand, as gentle as he can be, and her breath hitches again. When the energy fades from his fingertips, it does not return. 

He lets death in only because it won’t stop knocking. He’s put it off for as long as he can, but the cold that immediately rushes over his skin makes it almost worth it. He stops burning. He stops burning, and the world keeps spinning, even long after his own has stopped. 

[ LIFE 573948234 ] 

[ NAME: FLUORESCENT ]

[ PLAY / PAUSE ] 

Fluorescent holds her son for the first time when she is thirty-three. She looks down at him and expects to freeze. She doesn’t. What happens is far weirder. 

Her child does not cry. Her child does not blink. He only stares, and his eyes are little blank voids. They look back at her as if they too expect her to freeze. She doesn’t, and it worries her. She knows herself, she knows how she would react to having a child only because she’d been agonizing over it for the past nine months; and now it has happened, and it was nothing like what she’d expected. There is something wrong. There is something wrong . She doesn’t know what it is, and when she looks up at Geranium, he doesn’t look like he’s even noticed. He is a bonfire, burning, blazing, gentle, comforting, and she has not frozen. She will not melt for him, she will not melt for her son, and she will not freeze for either; something is horribly wrong. 

Instance tells her that it’s just postpartum depression. She’s inclined to believe her, because if she can’t trust herself, then she can trust the facts; and the fact of the matter comes wrapped in a diagnosis and an hour-long hormone and vitals check. Geranium stays with her through all of it, because even though he is a bonfire and he is meant to be a father, he was a husband first. She’s grateful for it, but at the same time, she hates him for it. She doesn’t know why. Postpartum depression, she thinks, and she convinces herself.

Her son still does not cry.

[ LIFE 928457275 ] 

[ NAME: GERANIUM ] 

[ PLAY / PAUSE ] 

His daughter is born when he is thirty-one, and she is not fragile at all. He expects her to be, all soft skin and malleable bones, but she isn’t. She is warm, but she feels like a stone. He looks down at her and a tear slips down his cheek. He’s happy that she’s here, and he loves her with all his heart, but she is not fragile, and she will not stop crying. It doesn't bother him, because he was meant to soothe ailments and wipe away tears, but there’s something about it that unsettles him. Maybe it’s the look in her eye, too knowing and too confused. Maybe it’s because when he looks in her eyes, he sees life and he sees death. He sees a cold fireplace and the harsh knocking of a door. He sees billions of ways life can be spent, life can be given, and life can be taken.

He should not be seeing those things in the eyes of his newborn daughter. When he looks at Fluorescent, she is frozen in the way snow gently falls in the evening, and the way wind pushes flakes of it along the sky. She is frozen, and he knows that he is meant to be warm, but he isn’t. Their daughter won’t stop crying. Something is wrong, something is wrong , there is something horribly, terribly, irreversibly wrong; and yet he doesn't know what it is. He doesn’t know what it is, and he doesn’t see the same revelation in his wife’s eyes, and so he doesn’t say anything about it either. Their daughter continues to cry, and he rocks her back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, and somehow the motion is familiar to him even though he has never held a newborn before. 

A father never forgets how to hold his child,

Even when that child cries too much,

Even when he has never held that child before,

And even when Something Has Always Been Wrong.

Chapter Text

Plot outlines + the beginning of a chapter I scrapped

Chapter 1 - Tangent - “Solutions and Formulas” 

• Sol is on the doctor route

• Sol solves the starvation and finds the cure for the shimmer 

• Sol makes a lot of contributions to the food stores and the general understanding of the planet

• Sol is female to nonbinary trans and received gender affirming care as a teenager, and can directly relate to Tangent in that way.

• Tangent sometimes thinks about how easy it would be if she weren’t as smart as she was; or if she was one of the animals of Vertumna. She gets distracted by scientific discoveries and life sciences, and with Instance’s guidance, keeps pushing herself further and further without rest. Sol is a little stricter with her mental and physical health, and though both Tangent and Instance scold them for it, neither of them can deny that a healthier, happier Tangent receives better and more thought out results. 

• Sol immediately joins Tangent in exterminating all life on Vertumna. Tangent finds this very odd, and is worried for Sol’s mental state because she’s never seen them act like this.

• Tangent sometimes just wants someone to tell he ‘no,’ no matter how much she might fight against it

• “Not everybody can afford to be objective. The human heart holds sympathy for that which it shouldn’t, Tangent reasoned, and I am just another victim of it. Part of her wished she could be as uncaring as Sol.” 

• Sol’s insanity: Only shows through here as a flat acceptance to exterminate the animals of Vertumna. 

Chapter 2 - Tammy - “Princess locked in a tower.” 

• Similar themes to Prince Charming and Love is hard to unlearn

• This time, Tammy does end up with Cal, but the dynamic is different 

• Tammy and Cal and Sol have this big conversation that results in their relationship development beginning no longer based on a fairy tale 

• Aroace Sol?? It’s more likely than you think

• Sol falls in love with Cal, Cal loves Tammy

• “She felt awful for her, really, but there was nothing here for her. She would move on eventually, Tammy reasoned. She just wished it didn’t hurt as much as it did.”

• Sol’s insanity: Shows here as unrequited love that fades in and out from being directed towards Cal and being directed towards everyone else; Tammy catches her looking wistful in the direction of almost everyone before she snaps out of and remembers that she’s currently in love with Cal. Also, she’s aroace, so there’s that too.

Chapter 3 - Anemone - “Oversized chainmail and undersized spears.” 

• The title is in reference to being put on a pedestal by Vace to be flaunted around and bragged about, and also connects with Anemone’s treatment by the Helios after she started dating Vace (people treating her like a hero even though she hadn’t done anything yet.) 

• “Undersized spears' ' refers more to her being consistently put on defence despite being more than capable of being on the survey teams with Vace and Sol. 

• Anemone and Sol figuring out her relationship with Vace and what to do about it

• Anemone decides to stick with him after he agrees to attend therapy

• Sol’s insanity: Sol is much more agitated than they would usually be when handling the Anemone/Vace relationship, and seems to have mood swings. They blame it on the lack of sleep, which Anemone seems to believe, but they’re actually just going crazy. 

Chapter 4 - Cal - “Twitching stars are no good for directions.”

• Post-canon Sol works in the Geoponics with Cal, who, in this reset, views her as a best friend. 

• Sol is the head of geoponics, much like her parents were, and most people look up to her and follow her direction without question

• Cal starts to notice that she’s getting more and more spacey recently, antsy and restless and overall not very leader-like, but he doesn’t know what’s wrong or how to fix it

• “Above, the stars of Vertumna twinkled in the sky. He thought he saw a few of them shift, twitching, as if they were itching to move across the blackened expanse of space. They wobbled in place as if they were threatening to fade, or to explode, threatening to do something. He wasn’t getting enough sleep, he reasoned, there was no reason for the stars to be twitching.” 

• Sol’s insanity: Sol, after following the geoponics path to feel closer to her parents (who died in this reset), slowly begins to unravel again after receiving the head position. She starts spacing out more and more and can’t seem to make logical decisions; but she’s too well respected to be confronted about it, and later dies in a Glow attack (implied on purpose)  

[A/N: The glitched memory thing that happened in this chapter was actually just me getting around writer’s block lmao] 

Chapter 5 - Rex - “A good friend.” 

• This is just Rex being a good person. Like a REALLY good person. 
  
• Doubles as a Vace focused chapter as well.

• Rex being the one to save Vace instead of Anemone or Sol is actually really important to me. Like this brings me a little bit of awe. 

• Rex notices that Sol can’t seem to remember which of the two he’s supposed to be hanging out with, and talks to Vace about it because he’s really worried about their seemingly mutual friend

• Vace has anger issues and is still an asshole, but he’s not completely a dick because he does care about people, so he has a genuine conversation with Rex for the first time in like. A decade. 

• Sol doesn’t stop being worrying, but at least Rex was able to convince Vace to go to therapy, right? 

• “It was surprisingly easy to treat Vace like a friend, even after all their years of fighting. It was almost unsettling how quickly he put aside their differences, and Vace accepting even speaking to him in a civilized manner was insane, but Rex was nothing if not a good friend; even to those who were once his enemies.” 

• Sol’s insanity: Here, Sol literally can’t remember who he’s supposed to be friends with in this reset, so he keeps bouncing back and forth between Rex’s friend group and Vace’s friend group; but he’s with both of them enough that they both formed a friendship with him and are both concerned for him when his issues start to get more and more prominent. 

Chapter 6 - Nomi - “The spaces behind the corners. (Are they really so scary?)” (SCRAPPED)

• Nomi really doesn't know what to do with their life and keeps dolphin hopping from one hobby to another, scared to get tied down to a job that they might lose passion for 

• Sol is an artist who offers them ideas and inspiration, and helps them build up their books and comics 

• Sol’s drawings are always weirdly creepy, from the shading to the monsters, but they’re also really good; and the conversation about their pieces never fails to inspire the newest chapter of their novel. 

• Sol is kind of losing their mind at this point and it’s a lot less subtle than it was in chapter 1, Nomi just isn’t that good at noticing it 

• Sol’s insanity: They’re going crazy. They keep drawing the monsters from their dreams, unsure of if it’s actually the future or just some fucked up nightmare, and trying to figure out which parts of their freaky dreams are real, if any of it. 

Chapter 7 - Marz - “Last night, a tree fell in a forest. Did anybody notice?” (SCRAPPED)

• This is about Marz preparing to cause the uproar at one of Lum’s speeches; she feels very nervous and anxious about if people were going to care or even listen to her, and has a conversation with Sol about it

• Sol tells her to go for it, if not a little desperately, and Marz knows there’s something wrong with him; but she leaves it alone, because it’s a problem that can be handled after her speech. 

• Sol’s insanity: Sol is portrayed here as desperate for Marz to try and overthrow Lum, implying that they can’t stand another second with him up on the stage. Even though they know Marz’s interruption won’t work without the support of the council members, they’re desperate to get Lum off the podium, if just for a second

Chapter 8 - Dys - “Gardeners plant seeds. (They know more than they let on.)” (SCRAPPED)

• Dys doesn’t know what about Sol drags him in, but they’re kind of like a black hole, in that intriguing and dangerous way

• Dys is, so far, the only one to notice that Sol’s mental health goes far beyond the normal shitty stuff from Glow and being on Vertumna; he can see it in their eyes, and gets the sense that they know far more than they’re letting on. 

• Dys tries to befriend Sol for that very reason, but in this reset, Sol is withdrawn and snappy to everyone, including Anemone, their best friend for the run. 

• By the time the Heliopause lands, Anemone and Sol have all but split off, and Sol has no friends and no interaction; but actively refuses any attempt at contact and prefers to be alone. 

• Dys always thought that was weird since Sol was incredibly sociable as a kid, but shrugs and joins the gardeners anyway, ignoring Sol’s knowing gaze. 

• “Dys looked at the boy with the bright smile and the curiosity for the outside and thought ‘maybe.’ Years later, he looked at the man with a void expression, passionless and blank, and thought ‘maybe.’” 

• Sol’s Insanity: Here, Sol is using this reset to be selfish; they break away from all of their friends in the hopes that less interaction with them will make them care less; this doesn't work, and Sol is an idiot. If anything, it makes them like 10x worse. Also, Sol knows all about the Gardeners and all that but refuses to say anything about it, keeping it to themselves. The isolation combined with the knowledge drives them half insane. 

Chapter 9 - Sol - “Without all the nuance.” 

• Sol POV, finally, and this chapter is literally just Sol descending into madness. Written much like Spider Web of Guilt but with little differences here and there

• Sol starts this chapter hiding their knowledge and all the resets pretty easily and changing the course of the years subtly, such as guiding Tangent towards the shimmer cure or bee-lining to the sponge-dirt when they’re scavenging. 

• Over the course of the chapter (many many many resets, the events of the other 8 chapters will be mentioned in passing as well as many other little snippets from unwritten segments of their life), Sol slowly loses their sanity and their ability separate each life from another, losing all the nuance they previously had when it came to this kind of stuff. Things start to blur together in their head, and it gets worse and worse as they go along.

• “White silhouettes stood tall over the wall, and Sol could have sworn that they were ghosts. Ghosts of what? The past? The future? The present? The ghosts hidden in their closet next to the skeletons and every buried secret they’d tried to protect? Colours blending into stitched seams, lives bleeding into lives, skills and occupations and friends and information mixing in their head until they felt like they’d been put in a blender, circling the drain, round and round and round and round and– They were missing the point. They were sure of it. The ghosts, ghouls, skeletons, secrets, the silhouettes, disappeared. In their place were Anemone and Vace, hand in hand, looking out over the walls. Emotions mixed in the air, and for a moment, Sol fell in love with them. Then, the moment faded and the warmth was replaced by the harsh edge of hatred, and abuse rang in their head like a bell, and the urge to save was back, an itching under their skin so intense that they took half a step forward.” 

Unfinished Dys chapter:

Dys didn’t know why he did it. He wasn’t close with any of these people, not even his own sister, and yet when he saw Sol standing up to Uncle Tonin, proclaiming how tough they were, something in him shifted. 

‘ Maybe, ’ he thought, and when Tonin wasn’t looking, he called Sol over. They have curious eyes , he thought, curious eyes and a wondrous smile . He led them outside through the drainage pipe. ‘ Maybe, ’ he thought as they wandered through pink-coloured forests and interacted with small fluffy critters and little clouds of dust. He wasn’t even close with Sol, and yet, when he looked at them through bitter eyes, all he saw was what could be. He saw visions of colony walls blown to pieces and tall beautiful aliens, and he glanced at Sol. ‘ Maybe, ’ he thought, and didn’t let himself think about it further. 

They didn’t belong here. He knew that. Deep down, everyone knew that. Tangent, always the researcher, told him that they would grow to belong here. They just needed to understand the planet and its resources. But Tangent didn’t fully believe that; they might have been apart recently, but she was still his sister, and he could still read that look in her eye. On the days where the temperature dropped and the acidic snow started to fall, Dys could feel her begin to slip further away. She’d always be with Instance or Hal, and he would be here, on the edge of the colony, wondering about aliens and monsters. 

‘ Maybe, ’ he thought, watching Sol from a distance. Sol was different. Sol was more like he was, bright-eyed and curious about the new planet, but still cautious of its dangers. They showed an urge to understand, different from Tangent and different from Cal; They didn’t want to build over the planet, they wanted to be part of it. All the adults were stupid and naive, but Dys couldn’t help looking at Sol, wonderful, curious, empathetic Sol, and thinking ‘ maybe. ’ 

The Heliopause landed when they were fifteen. Through the smoke and the clouds of dust, soldiers charge out of its doors holding guns. A big man with a ridiculous haircut sauntered out, strutting like he owned the place, and announced new leadership in the colony. The cheers of the Helio soldiers drowned out Strato complaints. Dys sunk quietly to the back and snuck out. 

A/N about the idea behind this fic:

Basically a longer version of Spider-Web of Guilt that focuses more on how Sol’s insanity affects their relationships and how the characters react and try to help. And, of course, the ‘nuance’ in the title just refers to how Sol going crazy is becoming less and less subtle as their lives drag on.

A/N about the whole system thing I have going on: 

Originally, this fic wasn't going to have that kind of format, but during Cal's chapter I hit a WALL of writer's block and lack of inspiration, so I sat back in my chair and thought to myself "how can I weasel my way out of writing this and still include what I already have?" Boom. File corruption. [ PAUSE / PLAY ]. Who would have known? I hope that wasn't too noticeable lmao.



If you have any questions or comments about the fic, feel free to leave them on this chapter! I'll try my best to respond to each and every one :)