Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. 

Things weren’t supposed to go this way. 

One-hundred-and-fifty days after Rosie’s fiancé left, she got the notice that he would, in all likelihood, not be coming back. Their ship had gone off radar three days ago. The notice wasn’t from the Pony Express, rather, an alert to collect his life insurance. She was marked down as his next-of-kin, after all. 

Everything had been perfect— at least, perfect for Rosie, perfect for Grant. Their life was set up. Well, it would be. After this last job. 

Seven Days Before Lift-Off 

“I’m fully set for a promotion by the time I get back, Rose.” 

“You better be. A year-long trip is ridiculous!” 

“Aw, you’re worried about me.” he grinned at her in that charming golden-retriever way. Grant Curly was really good at making it very hard to stay annoyed. Not just with him, but annoyed in general. 

“Of course.” She snipped, grabbing the shaker and protein powder for him. Rosie thought the stuff was nasty, but he found it beneficial. She continued with her (justifiable) complaints. 

“I mean, we both know the phones on those things never work right…” she shook the mix, allowing her fiancé to grab a coffee mug from behind her, “And postponing the venue was a total nightmare! What cargo is so important that they needed you specifically—” 

“It’s just my job, Rose.” Curly pressed the coffee cup into her hands, swapping it with his shake. “I’m the only one they trusted to get on this job— it’s a big shipment, I’m sure it’s important. Medical supplies, or something.” 

Rosie hummed in disagreement. She'd never say it out loud, but her fiancé could be an airhead sometimes. The Pony Express company loved to butter him up to do their worse shipments. After all, he was the only captain who could wrangle the underpaid and under-trained staff that usually populated these ships. Curly wasn’t even supposed to be working there as long as he had— but they kept offering him benefits, and raises, and excuses.

The team for this shipment was… less than stellar. Mr. Swansea was fine— he’d been on trips with Curly before. He was good enough at his job. It was the rest she was concerned about. 

The medical was a nurse who had been through med school far too many times for Rosie’s comfort and had only gotten her nursing license through Pony Express. That was not promising. There was the intern who was added to the group just recently, under Swansea— Rosie hadn’t met him yet, but interns were not exactly known for being the best at their craft. 

Then there was Jim. Rosie wasn’t too concerned about Jim’s competency. She just felt bad that Curly would have to spend a year locked in with him. Jim always had this restless energy about him— it was stressful just to sit next to the man at the dinner table sometimes. But he was Grant’s best friend, so she couldn’t really shut him out. He was almost contractually obligated to be at their wedding, whenever Pony Express would let that happen. 

“What are you doing today, then?” she changed the subject, sliding over on the counter and drinking her coffee. He made it just how she liked it, sort of. It always needed just a little more sugar, but it was close enough, and consistent. She’d have to make her own coffee soon. 

“Ahh…” He checked his watch. “I was going to do some reps in the garage but then you can take me wherever you need. I want to break my personal record.”

A bit of a wicked thought possessed her at that moment, and she slid further to keep him close. “I don’t think we need to go anywhere, I think we can have lots of fun just here at home.”

Chapter Text

147 Days After Lift-Off

Rosie stared at the pitiful little bracelet, buried in rice like it was trying to win an all-you-can-eat buffet. She hadn’t had an actual bag of rice, so she tore open one of those microwave-ready bags and poured it into a cup.

She felt very stupid. The one consistent contact she had with her partner and she broke it. It was such a little thing, she’d forgotten to take it off before getting in the shower. And now it wasn’t buzzing. But Curly couldn’t have died on that ship— there was nothing on the ship that could kill him, other than Swansea’s stories. So she was missing out on his heartbeats because of her stupid mistake.  

0 Days Before The Crash

Rose was wrong. There was plenty on that ship that could have killed Curly. He wasn’t dead, but god, he wanted to be. He couldn’t feel anything but pain. Searing, stinging, awful pain. It reminded him of when his mother-in-law had spilled boiling cider on him, only a million times worse, and all over his body. 

Today had started wrong. It was all wrong. 

“I told him…” Anya mumbled, hunched by the gurney. 

You should have waited for me. I could have helped. I should have helped.

“What did he say?” 

The air felt suffocating. Curly had no idea what to do about Jimmy. No idea what to do for Anya; what was he supposed to do, kick Jimmy into the air-lock? Send him off the ship to die, in the pass between Neptune and Pluto? 

“Curly, I don’t want him in here anymore—”

“Hold on, hold on— just wait, I need to find him.” 

Anya was sweet, and smart, and shy. Curly liked Anya. Anya told him Jimmy had done something, and it was very, very hard for him to think through that. Because Jimmy wasn’t that kind of guy, not the one Curly knew. At least, he thought he knew… 

But what had Rose said that night before lift-off? 

“There’s something off, there’s something wrong—”

He couldn’t remember just now. He was so tired. Could this really be who Jim was? He could be a bully on the elementary playground, but that's just how little boys were. He wasn’t much better in a game of tag at that age. 

And sure, maybe Jim had been a troublemaker in school, but it had never hurt anyone— not physically. Jim always seemed to think there was no harm in what he was doing. Curly was always busy with his own games, and work, and girls, so he hadn’t noticed the bloody path Jimmy left behind.

Yes, Jimmy had gone to jail… but for theft. Petty theft. At least he thought it had been petty theft. Maybe Jimmy had just told him it was petty theft…  

But he was Curly’s best friend. Over half his life. Twenty years. Five times as long he’d even known his wife. Jimmy was rough around the edges, but he couldn’t have. Wouldn’t have. 

But it certainly hadn't been Daisuke. It certainly wasn’t Swansea. And it definitely hadn’t been Curly himself. So unless Anya was the new Virgin Mary, Jimmy had done something. Something that got you sent to hell faster than an invite to the devil’s own house. 

I can fix this.

“What do you think will happen when we get back? Hm?” Jim raised his eyebrows like a challenge. He was leaning on the door to the cockpit, eyes wide enough that Curly could see his whole iris.

Curly spoke low, like he was trying not to spook an animal. “We can figure this out. You and me. We always figure things out—”

“All I ever hear is how great of a leader you are.” Jimmy interrupted him, brushing some hair out of his face. “God, it’s so annoying.” 

Curly shifted, not sure how to respond. “Well—” 

“But now? What do you think will happen now, when we get back?” Jimmy fixed him with an accusatory glare, as if everything was due to Curly’s orders. As if Curly had told him to hurt Anya. 

“We’ll fix this together.” 

“Everything we worked for. None of it will matter.” 

Truth be told, Curly had done most of the work. Jimmy had followed him. Even down to his hobbies. Jimmy was only at Pony Express because Curly had convinced him— just a few jobs, and you had money. 

“Look. You’ve gotten through difficult situations before…” he started, eying Jimmy’s stance against the wall. “This time is no different. One day at a time.” 

“But it’s not just me, is it?” Jimmy snapped at him, eyes growing wilder by the second. “You were supposed to be the one who had everything under control, right? You said so yourself.” 

He pushed his hair back again, brown strands just too short to go behind the ears but too long to sit in front of his face. “The ship, this crew, everything that happened here…” 

Jimmy focused on Curly, and he felt a chill go up his spine. Not the good kind.

“This was your responsibility, Captain. ” Jimmy spat. “That is what you’ll be hearing the rest of your life!" 

My responsibility. 

Jimmy continued to ramble, sharp words making it out of his muttering. “Or… this can all be remembered as a tragedy. Despite what must have been the best efforts of the acclaimed Captain Curly, the Tulpar crew was never found. No one survived to tell the tale!” 

Curly started to back away, but his friend grabbed him back. 

“You’re standing at the top.” Feet in cement. “I get it now… right?” Jimmy’s wild eyes searched Curly’s face for validation, for agreement, just for a nod. He’d never acted like this before, not that Curly knew— it was frankly… scary. 

I said I’d take care of it.

“Right…” Curly would regret not confirming what he was agreeing with. 

And then Jimmy had turned away. 

The next time Curly saw him, the alarms were blaring, and the halls were filled with the red caution lights. Jimmy was on the floor, fingers tangled in his messy brown hair. 

“Jim… Tell me you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t!” Curly pulled him up by the collar, only for the alarms to get louder. “I should have— I didn’t— what the fuck did you do?!” 

And before Grant Curly could think, he could feel nothing but pain. Getting crushed by an asteroid will do that to you. He couldn’t hear for a while, either— there was a horrible, horrible ringing sound instead. Someone was screaming, it might have been him. 

How are we ever going to get home? 

Chapter Text

Six Days Before Lift-Off

“You sure you don’t want my help, honey?” Rose called from the trunk. Curly chuckled to himself, knowing full well she was only asking so that she would feel more useful. Rose was typically happy to just watch him lift heavy things. Not that he minded— she’d been all over him yesterday, and anything to prolong that behavior was a-ok with him. 

“You want to help? Baby, you couldn’t get this suitcase down the stairs. Even gravity wasn’t helping you.” he teased, hauling the bag onto his shoulder.

She waved a hand at him, eying his arms. “You pack heavy things!” 

“Just my clothes.” 

“And bricks, apparently.” 

Curly got the bag into the trunk, and she pushed it into place. She made a few more comments about his heavy things, but Curly didn’t hear it— she was wearing those earrings he’d gotten her for her birthday, and they looked pretty with her bouncy auburn curls. 

“Trouble in paradise?” a voice said, prompting Curly to turn around. Just Jimmy.

“Hey, Jim.” Rose raised a hand in greeting before pushing herself out of the car. “Were you smoking? You sound a little rough.”

“Rosie.” he nodded at her and stuck his hands in his pockets. “No, guess I just have a cough or something.” 

“Hm.” She frowned at him, probably thinking of being sick on the ship. 

“Babe, why don’t you grab some water? It’s hot out.” Curly nudged her. 

“Sure.” She stood on her toes to kiss him on the cheek and walked off. She ducked inside the house. Both men watched her leave with the same interest. 

“Easy.” Curly chuckled, shoving Jimmy lightly in the shoulder. “You know better.” 

Jimmy’s gaze hovered on the door for a moment before flicking back to Curly, a cheeky smile having crept to his face. “Yeah yeah, until she gets bored of you, I know.” 

Curly rolled his eyes. “Seriously, man.” 

Jimmy put his hands up in disbelief. “Defensive much?” He shook his head. “It was a joke, Cap’. With your income we both know she’s not leaving you without a rock on her finger.” 

Curly could only frown at him before she came back, tossing the two of them water bottles before cracking the seal on her own. 

“So, postponing the wedding, huh?” Jim asked, leaning against the brick of their rental house. It was old. 

Rose rolled her eyes and groaned, leaning back against Curly as if he were a wall, too. “Yep. God forbid a Pony Express captain have time off for marital business.” 

Curly hummed in agreement, fully distracted from being annoyed with Jimmy by whatever shampoo she’d used this morning. He’d ask if Jim wasn’t in their driveway (he’d never hear the end of it). 

“Think you’ll get bored with your golden boy gone? I’m sure he’d understand if you gave someone else a go.” he chuckled, eyes flicking around the yard. 

She scoffed lightly, “What? No way. Where am I going to find another man as fine as this one with four years of Rosalie experience?” 

Jim nodded half-heartedly, seeming a little dissatisfied with her answer. Curly felt a bit of smug satisfaction at how just how quick it was, and wrapped an arm around her waist. 

“He’d probably still marry you anyway, even if you did…” Jimmy cleared his throat, finishing off his bottle. Rose frowned, a little crease appearing between her eyebrows. 

“Anyway, I only stopped by to drop this off.” he held up a backpack, presumably filled with valuables he didn’t want just sitting around his apartment all year. “Thanks for holding it for me.” 

“No problem, Jimmy. See you on the road tomorrow.” Curly nodded. “You still driving with us?” 

Jim shook his head. “My sister insisted on driving me… you know how the old bat can be.” 

Five Days Before Lift-Off

That night, Rosie could feel him tossing and turning in bed. It made its way into her dreams, putting her on a pirate ship being pushed around by the tide. Eventually, she lined herself up right and pulled his arm around herself, where he stayed for the next few hours. That always worked. She didn’t even mind that he was snoring next to her ear. 

When the alarm went off at five, she let him sleep a little longer. He muttered something, trying to pull her back into their sheets, but she’d sneakily replaced herself with two pillows. 

Thirty minutes later, he entered their bathroom just as she was getting dressed, stretching and yawning as he walked. He seemed to focus on her clothes for a moment. Something was nagging at him. 

“Something wrong, Sleeping Beauty?” Rosie grinned at him. He smiled back genuinely, appreciating the view of her in a nightshirt that used to be his.

“Nothing. Hey, did you pack anything like…” He dragged a hand through his blonde bedhead, “nice? Like a nice dress or something?”

“Errm…” she thought it through, twisting her engagement ring around her finger. “I think I have two.” 

“Oh, good!” He nodded at her. “Perfect, good. And you’re bringing your ring?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I?”  

“No reason.” 

They settled into the car around six, in their sweatshirts and drinking coffee and a protein shake (why he felt like he needed one right now, she did not know). Even tired and unshaven, Grant was still very handsome. If she wasn’t driving, she’d lean over to give him cheek kisses. Thankfully he understood her dilemma, and gave her a few instead. 

“What shampoo is that?” 

“Watermelon and jasmine.” 

He hummed in response. A few minutes later he spoke again. 

“Can I bring some with me? On the ship?” He lightly tugged on one strand of her hair, watching it spring back towards her jaw. 

Rosie was glad Jimmy was driving separately. Grant wouldn’t dare ask about that if his friend was in the car— Jim tended to poke fun. She loved when Curly talked like this— he was soft and sleepy in the mornings. She waited til an intersection before answering, because she wanted to kiss him. 

The drive was long, but the radio and the sun did their part in energizing the two of them. The protein shake must have done something, because Curly was pumped and ready to get there way sooner than Rosie was. Midway through, they switched places. 

Rosie wasn’t sure what she’d do while he was gone. She worked from home— he was her extrovert, she didn’t really have the drive to leave the house without him there. 

Maybe I’ll get a dog, she mused, staring at her fiancé as he tried singing nonsense lyrics along with the radio. He’d put his hand on the center console, and she traced shapes on it with her fingers. 

They arrived to the city late. Rosie greeted her future in-laws outside of the hotel while Grant started on luggage again. God knows (and he knew) she couldn’t carry most of it. 

“Rosalie!” Mrs. Curly exclaimed, running to her with outstretched arms. 

“Sandy, Frank!” She grinned at them and shared squeezes. “I’m happy you could make it!”

“Oh, of course. Can’t let our son leave the solar system without a hug!” 

Curly slowed in unpacking the car to greet them himself. Suddenly he looked just as tired as he’d been at five this morning, and Rosie wanted to end the conversation so he could rest. Lift-off was days away, but she knew how much rest Pony Express usually allowed their employees to get. 

They didn’t see Jimmy or his sister inside, but a quick message confirmed they’d already arrived and were asleep. Rosie couldn’t help feeling kind of glad at that. She didn’t want to share right now, considering that in the next few days Jimmy would be with Curly long enough for one of them to get sick of the other. 

When they finally reached the hotel bed, Grant fell back on the mattress with a groan. The bed was a little smaller than the one at home, but that wasn’t a bad thing for them. 

“We’ll have to get cozy in here.” he stretched and grabbed his pajamas. 

“Never been a problem before.” Rosie smiled and shrugged, unashamed at watching him get changed. 

In the end, he was tossing and turning again. She pulled his arm around herself, and he was fast asleep. She just hoped he’d be able to sleep this soundly on the ship.

Chapter Text

Ten Days After Lift-Off

He was not sleeping soundly on the ship.

Truth be told, it was more difficult than he thought it would be. Usually he’d be okay on shipments, but something about this one had made him more restless. Pony Express had the captain’s quarters set with two pillows, so he’d been making do by holding one of them close. It was kind of pathetic— it had only been ten days — but as the captain, he had to get the best sleep he could. If that meant cuddling up to a pillow like it was his wife, then that is what he would do.  

The purchase of a heart band and asking for a bit of her stuff had both proven to be strokes of genius; it made the transition a lot easier. His first phone call with her would be in twenty days. He tried not to think of how long that felt. The heartbeat buzzing under his uniform sleeve was comforting, at least. 

Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt.

He left his cabin at around six Earth time, when the pixellated sky was just showing its sunrise. The intern was already there, trying his hand at the cooking. 

“Morning Captain!” Daisuke beamed, speaking a little too loud for the early hour. Most things about Daisuke were a little too much, but the shirt was growing on him.

“Morning, kid.” Curly rubbed his face. “You need any help?” 

“No, I think I’ve got it!” he nodded enthusiastically, as the food in question was bubbling and hissing. That was normal with Pony Express food, unfortunately, so Daisuke was doing just fine. 

He got himself some coffee and reached for the sugar, forgetting for a moment they didn’t have loose sugar on the ship and that he actually didn't like sugar in his coffee. Muscle memory, he thought, slightly glum. 

Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt.

“Morning, Cap’.” a gruff voice greeted him. Swansea. “You look like shit.”

“Thank you, I hadn’t noticed.” Curly chuckled, taking a sip of the lukewarm acid water that was Pony Express brand coffee. Disgusting, but it was coffee, and the caffeine helped him wake up.

The lounge door slid open, and the rest of the crew arrived. Jimmy and Anya seemed to talk more now that they were on the ship, mostly about the games available in the lounge. Most were old, but Anya was apparently good at all of them. Jimmy liked winning, so he was determined to challenge her at each one. Curly didn’t mind Jimmy being a bit distracted— it kept him busy enough that he was never around when Curly was missing home.  

Dai eventually brought over the crew’s breakfast. Despite the unappetizing food and drink provided, Curly’s stomach rumbled. 

“So, what’s everyone doing today?” the intern chirped. Curly wondered if this kid had a superpower for sucking everyone else's energy— not in a bad way, but in the way that made him fully awake and left the rest of them sluggish. Oh, to be twenty again. 

Anya, who was the second most-awake person at the table, hummed in response. “I’ve taken stock of everything in the med-bay so far. I don’t have much on my plate.” 

“Maybe I’ll challenge you at Uno then.” Jimmy started, earning a nervous smile from her. Anya was quiet by nature, but he seemed determined to bring her out of her shell. Curly didn’t mind that too much. It was nice to see Jimmy making more friends. 

“Oh, I’ll play too!” Dai exclaimed, halfway done with his food already. “I don’t think we have Uno though… I think we have Dos. I’ll check again.”

“Daisuke.” Swansea grunted. “Remember, you’re supposed to look over the engineering room with me today.” 

“I thought we already did that?” 

“There is more than the cryo-pods to look at.” 

Curly cleared his throat, prompting all four pairs of eyes to look at him. “In general, does everyone have a little free time today? I have a good idea for how to spend it.” 

When everyone was able, Curly met them all on the couch in the lounge. 

“We’re going to be on this ship with one another for over a year. It’s a long shipment. I think it’d be good to get to know one another a little more, y’know?” 

“Oh cool, like a team building exercise?” Dai asked. 

“Sure, like that.”

Curly just needed a distraction. Selfish want, unselfish reward. He wanted to know more about everyone else, so he could stop thinking about home. Sure, this could bum everyone out… but misery loved company. 

“Anya, why don’t you go first. What’s your family like?” Curly gave her a smile, which she nervously returned. All of her smiles seemed to be nervous smiles. They were nice smiles— her front teeth stuck out a bit. That, along with her wispy hair and large eyes, made her look like an old film actress. Curly couldn’t place the name, but Rosie would’ve been able to. 

Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt.

“Oh, alright! Um…” she swept some hair out of her face, bangs already too long even this early in the trip. “I live with my mom. I have a couple of siblings, but they don’t live nearby.” 

“Must be nice to live at home.” Curly encouraged her. “Is there anyone else waiting back at home?” 

She hesitated, messing with her hair again. “Not really. I’m always busy. I live there because I’m always going to school. She’s being a huge help to me, really.” 

She trailed off. Curly had the feeling that was as much as they would get at the moment. Good enough. 

“I’ll go next!” Dai announced brightly. His words rushed out. “I live with my parents right now. They’re great, kind of. My mom is a real pusher, but she’s just trying to help me out. Dad’s big on baseball. It’s gonna suck to miss the games this year, but I’ll get to rewatch them, I guess. Your turn, Swansea!”

Swansea grumbled, clearly thinking this was a waste of time. Especially since Daisuke was the one prompting him. “I’ve got the wife and kids. Standard. They’re all grown now.” 

“And a dog, right?” Daisuke asked, as if he’d been waiting his whole life to ask about his supervisor’s pet.

“And the dog. She’s a Bernese mountain mix.” 

“Huggable.” 

Curly had seen the picture of Swansea’s dog before, and she did look very huggable. He wondered if they could find a dog like that when he got home. Something big and protective. He thought it was odd that Swansea had brought a picture of his dog, but not of his family. 

“Jim, you’re next.” He nodded towards his friend. 

“Right. Okay. Well, I live alone. Nicole— my sister— lives nearby. That’s pretty much it.” Jimmy shrugged, passing over himself quickly. “Your turn, Captain.” 

Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt.

“Right.” The downside of asking everyone else to talk. He eventually had to talk to. 

“My parents live north of the space center. Most of you already met my wife, Rose. We live together.” Curly twisted his ring around his finger, trying to remember fun facts so that he wouldn’t end up complaining.

Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt. 

Anya nodded, smiling. “She seemed really sweet.”

“She is. She’s a great friend, too.” he smiled tiredly. Rosie seemed to like Anya, despite her earlier reservations. It was all out of worry. 

Jim gave an odd scoff, which Curly ignored. Jimmy was probably still mad at him for not telling him the plans at the hotel.

“She’s kind of full of herself, but shes nice. The golden boy needs his golden girl, after all.”

Okay, Jimmy was definitely still mad at him. 

“That’s a little harsh…” Anya squeaked. 

Curly would let it go. He didn’t want to; Jimmy was being deliberately rude. But Jimmy would get over it eventually. He’d just have to deal with it. After all, Curly had to “deal with it” all the time for Jimmy. He was probably just hurt, and lashing out. It would pass. 

Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt.

Chapter Text

Two Months After the Crash

Before breakfast, Daisuke made his way to the engine room. Being on time didn’t matter anyway, now that they were off-course. The only reason he still got up before eight-thirty was to make sure the old man didn’t yell at him. 

This morning though, Daisuke had a question. Not about the engineering, as Swansea probably hoped, but it was something new, and that was way more interesting. 

“Swansea!” he knocked on a few pipes on his walk down the hallway, alerting his boss of his arrival. “I got a question for you!” 

“Kid, I’m busy. Go start breakfast.” 

“Yeah, but I gotta know where this goes first. Could be a part of the ship.” Daisuke lied, just to get the old codger to pay attention. He knew this thing wasn’t part of the ship, but he wasn’t entirely sure what it was supposed to be either. He rounded a corner and found Swansea working on a hot water pipe that had seen better days.

“What?” Swansea shoved up his welder’s helmet, frown lines deep in his face and the bags under his eyes twice as heavy as normal. Daisuke just held up the piece that he’d found near the cockpit. 

It was some kind of band, with a magnetic piece on the ends that had them stick together. It vibrated. A few times a small green light had gone off. He’d found it two weeks ago. Some part of him thought that he could impress Swansea by fixing whatever it went to all on his own, but he’d never been able to find out what it was for. 

“I found this thing.” he held it up and shook it lightly. “I’m not sure what to do with it… it keeps buzzing. Has to be something important, right?” 

Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt. Bz-bzzt.

Swansea stared at it for a moment, an extra crease forming between his bushy eyebrows. Dai thought he was about to get yelled at for playing with junk, but the old grump just put down his blow torch and sighed. 

“It’s the Captain’s. Curly’s.”

“Oh.” He shook it again. “Is it like… a workout band? Guess he doesn’t need it anymore!” Daisuke chuckled without humor. 

“You idiot—” Swansea gave him a signature glare, “it’s something he got for him and his wife. Go see if he wants it. Don’t touch’m, leave it for Anya.”

“See if he wants it?” Daisuke asked incredulously, “Swansea, dude, he can’t talk! ” 

Despite this, Daisuke found himself sent to the med bay without further delay. The wristband buzzed in his hand, stuttering for a moment. Instinctively, he squeezed it, as if that would calm it down. To his surprise, the beating steadied.

He thought Rosie Curly had been a nice lady. It’s too bad she was alone now.   

The doors hummed open, and he was greeted to the ever-freakish appearance of their retired captain. Daisuke had been avoiding the med bay for exactly this reason. Curly… well, Curly was busted.

“Here Cap', I uh… found this for you.” Daisuke held up the wristband.

Curly’s blue eye seemed to swivel, focusing on him. It was way creepy. His breathing got faster, which was even creepier. 

“I’ll put it back on you, if you want?”  

It took a second for Daisuke to realize Curly obviously couldn’t nod. Also, he wasn’t supposed to touch Curly, so he couldn’t put the band on. But… it couldn’t be that hard. 

Curly stared at it for a few seconds, then up at Daisuke. It felt weirdly more like a camera than an eye, the way it rolled. Daisuke had no idea if Curly was even processing what he was saying. 

“Eh. What could it hurt.” the intern shrugged, tossing the band on the bed next to the captain. He sat in Anya’s rolling stool and pulled himself over with his feet. He tried not to stare too much— he just couldn't help it, the dude looked gnarly.

Due to his lack of hands, the band slipped off almost immediately. Curly just groaned in disappointment. 

“Oh. Right, uh…” 

Daisuke spun in the chair, looking for anything to make it stick. No tape, and he probably shouldn’t use more bandages than they could spare. 

“I got it!” 

He picked up the band again and wrapped it around Curly’s forearm as carefully as his clumsy hands could do. He put the magnet parts on different sides of a bandage, so it would stick to that. 

“Perfect!” Daisuke beamed, feeling accomplished. Curly’s breathing immediately slowed. He relaxed. 

Dai stood there awkwardly for a moment before seeing the clock turn. 

“Okay, well… breakfast time. See ya.” he saluted the ex-captain, and ran to the lounge for some food. Everyone was gathered at the table, discussing something serious. 

“Anyone else would do the same thing.” Jimmy remarked, ignoring Daisuke’s late entrance. Whatever they were talking about, Swansea was having none of it. He was red in the face and that vein in his forehead was popping something fierce. 

“We ain’t touchin’ the damn cargo!” He banged the table with his fist. “The only thing worse than dyin’ slowly is not gettin paid.”

Daisuke relaxed in his chair, slinging an arm over the back of it, just listening.

“But it could be something useful.” Anya tapped on the table with her nail nervously. “I think—” 

“Could be what?” Swansea asked gruffly, laughing at her, “Hopes, dreams, and marzipan? Ha!” 

Jimmy shut him down. “If it helps us survive it’s worth it.” 

“Man, Pony Express bosses are so not chill, huh?” Daisuke stretched his arms up before leaning on the table with his elbows. “C’mon, a quick look won’t hurt!”

“How exactly is this group therapy committee planning on gettin’ in there?” Swansea raised a bushy eyebrow. Daisuke sat up straight again. 

“Right here, boss!” he said excitedly, “You’re lookin’ at the meanest swing of the regional junior baseball team!” Daisuke mimed swinging a bat, nearly hitting the old man. 

“I straight up nearly corked some kid once!” He continued. “I’ll just take the utility axe and—” 

“You were goddamn born fully corked!” Swansea pushed his arm out of the air. “You—!” 

“That’s enough Swansea.” Jimmy snapped at him again, “There has to be some way to get in there for emergencies.” 

 Anya looked up nervously. Daisuke didn’t know why she was nervous all the time. Anya was probably the coolest person on the ship. She tried to speak between Jimmy and Swansea’s arguments.  

“If I remember correctly from the safety protocols…” she swiped some hair out of her face, “The doors should have an alternate access code. But it can only be uncovered using a code scanner…” she looked down. 

“And only the Captain has access to the code scanner.” Jimmy said bitterly, rolling his eyes. Daisuke almost felt bad for him. Curly was like, meant to be a captain— it was definitely way stressful for his second in command. 

“Of course!” Swansea crowed, causing the captain’s frown to deepen. “Go ahead and ask him all about it then.” 

Daisuke scooted away from the table. Jimmy looked kind of mad. Swansea just kept talking. 

“Maybe he’ll sing you the blues too! Do a little dance!” He laughed, but it was less funny, and more sarcastic. 

The captain grumbled and scoffed. “I don’t need him. I’ll find the scanner, get the code, and open the hold.” He stared at Swansea, eyes dark. “For better or for worse, I’m captain now. I’ll figure it out.”

Daisuke chuckled nervously before adding his input. 

“Uh, right on!”

Chapter Text

Zero Days Before Lift-Off

Curly generally liked his job, but he hated lift-off day. 

The days always started with Rose trying to keep him in bed. He actually loved when she did that— the only problem was that he couldn’t give in this time. The Pony Express lift-off was scheduled in the afternoon, and they were “heavily discouraged” from eating when they got onto the ship. Meaning breakfast was something they needed to get themselves. 

The only solution was to drag her out of bed with him to the bathroom. Which he was also fine with— sleepy Rose was funny. 

“C’mon, love…” he grabbed his razor and did a bit of maintenance on his face. 

“I’m up, I’m up.” She leaned on his back and wrapped her arm around his waist. “Pony really wants you up at the ass-crack of dawn…” 

“Yeah, you know the rules. Five hours.” He pulled on a company t-shirt and winced a little— his back felt a little sensitive. She had long nails.

“Sorry, I kinda marked you up last night… had to give you a parting gift.” 

“It’s fine,” he moved her in front of him to the mirror, chuckling evilly, “I did too.”

Rose gasped, and he made a quick escape to the bed area before she could scold him— but not fast enough. 

“Grant Cole Curly! You little—!”

They reached breakfast. Rose sat with her shoulders up, trying to further disguise the evidence of last night’s activities. Curly thought it would be obvious. What guy wouldn’t make the most of his last night on Earth? Sure, he may have gone a little crazy with the hickeys… but they’d clear up. Eventually. 

Hours of craftsmanship wouldn’t disappear so easily, he thought, a little smug. He reassured her anyway.

“Honey, you used your concealer. You’re covered. You’re fine. The sweatshirt covers it too.”

“This is your fault.” she bemoaned, leaning her head on his side and fidgeting with her ring. She hadn’t eaten much of her food. 

They had to stop talking about the hickeys, because his parents joined them at the table. His mother pulled him over to give him a kiss on the cheek, and his father pat him on the back. He tried not to wince.

“Did you two sleep well last night?” his mother asked, eying Rose. She was playing with the strings on her sweatshirt and avoiding eye contact. His mother asked Rose that a lot. Curly assumed it had to do with his mother’s undying wish for grandchildren before she reached the age of sixty.

“Course not.” he chuckled and saved his wife from answering, though he received a sharp look from her. “You know Pony Express has some strict sleeping regulations.” 

“Yes, sleeping regulations.” Rose muttered, suddenly very interested in eating her eggs.

They spent a little longer in the hotel room, sorting their things back into their bags. Rose didn’t usually stay more than a day or two after he left, and Curly needed to steal a few things from her. 

“Can I have some?” That shampoo.

“Yes.” 

“Can I take that?” A book she’d already read and annotated.

“Yes. Can I keep this shirt?” 

“Of course. Can I bring this?” Her hairband.

She looked at him confused. “Why would you want that?” 

He tried to think of a valid reason beyond I-want-all-your-stuff-I'd-even-take-you-if-I-could-get-away-with-it. “My hair will get long on the trip and I don’t trust Jimmy to cut it without giving me a mullet.” 

She laughed, and threw two scrunchies at him. Success.

The day went too quickly beyond that. He spent all his time with Rose and his parents, filling out proper forms and non-disclosure agreements. 

Before he knew it, he was due at the launch pad. He got there before Rose did; she had to run back to the room. The other crew members were surrounded by their own families.

“Ready to leave the planet, Jim?” he asked, busying himself. 

“Oh, more than you know.” 

Rose eventually arrived, looking winded. She nodded at old Swansea and his wife, along with the young intern and Nurse Anya.

To Curly’s surprise, she walked right past him and squared herself in front of Jimmy, hands on her hips. The co-pilot looked confused. 

“Hey Jimmy.”

“...Rosie?” he raised an eyebrow, hands in his pockets. 

She crossed her arms, staring him down despite being half a foot shorter. “Take care of Grant for me. Make sure he doesn’t act too much like an idiot.” 

Before Curly could protest, his friend laughed and crossed his arms too. 

“Can’t promise anything. You know he’s not all there upstairs.” He joked.

“Which is why I’m asking you. Don’t let him be an idiot.” 

“I’ll do my best.”

“I’m holding you to that.” She poked him in the chest, then moved back to Curly.

Curly tried to commit her to memory. Her hair was frizzy, because she’d needed to sacrifice hair time for makeup. He realized she had changed into his sweatshirt; it went to her thighs and the arms were bunched up. She still smelled like watermelon shampoo. 

“I have another surprise for you.” he said, a little quieter. 

“Lots of surprises this month, huh?” Rose gave him a watery smile, and he felt a sharp pang in his chest. He was going to miss her so much. 

“This is a good one.” He pushed up his sleeve and tapped a grey band on his wrist. 

“What is that?” she tilted her head. He dug in his back pocket and brought out a matching band, though this one was red. 

“You’ll see. I bought them for another time, but I want to give it to you now. Put it on your wrist.” Despite telling her to do it, Curly put it on for her.

Immediately, both wristbands beeped and vibrated for a few solid seconds. A little green light blinked on both of them. Then, slowly, they buzzed in little short bursts. 

“It’s a heart beat monitor. It should work in space and here.” 

Rose still looked confused. “Like… like an electrocardiogram or something?” 

“No, no—” he shook his head, “I’m feeling your heartbeat, and you’re feeling mine. ” 

Another second passed before her face lit up, and she leapt at him in a hug. Curly wrapped both arms around her waist and spun her her around in the air, wanting to hear her laugh one more time. Rose giggled and held on until he let her down, catching him in a kiss the moment she was in range.

A sharp wolf whistle rang out, followed by Swansea calling him. 

“C’mon, Loverboy! We ain’t got all day!” 

Curly separated from her, flushing all the way to his ears. “You heard’m.”

“Yeah…” She smiled sadly. Rose wouldn’t cry until he was out of the atmosphere. The week before lift-offs, she would never let him see her upset. She would attach to him, she’d worry, she’d lecture, but never cry. Not til he left. 

“I’d rather enjoy our time, rather than cry while you’re still here” she’d say. 

Deciding to spare a few extra seconds, he put his forehead on hers, hands on her waist. “I love you, Rosalie Curly.” 

“I love you, Grant Curly.” 

He said goodbye to his parents, his mother tearful and his father proud. He’d miss a couple of holidays. But they were both in good health, and Rose would keep an eye on them. He didn’t have to worry about them leaving before he got back. 

After reaching the gang plank, Curly hesitated. He turned back, just to get one last look before they had to leave the launch area and he had to leave the atmosphere. His mother was hugging Rose, one hand in her frizzy hair and the other rubbing her back. 

He sighed. He hated lift-off day. 

Jimmy clapped him on the back (ow), shoving him inside the ship.

“C’mon, Cap’! The sooner we leave the sooner we get back!”

“Don’t think I didn’t hear that whistle. I know that was you.” 

Jimmy shrugged, smiling. “Hey, she told me to keep you from being stupid. Being late would be stupid.”

When he finally reached his chair, he tried to think of all the things he’d do when he got back. If he didn’t distract himself, he might have run out of the space ship to bring Rose on as an extra carry-on. As they readied themselves for take-off, he felt her heart rate speeding up.

Chapter Text

Two Hundred and Seven Days After Lift-Off

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt. Bzzzzt. Bzzz-bzzz. 

Rosie’s eyes flew open, momentarily confused about her surroundings. She was in a bed with heavy quilts, snuggled up to a large, shaggy white dog. Her in-law’s house. Her anniversary with Grant— dating, not marriage— had passed not too long ago, and she’d needed to see them.

She wasn’t sure what had woken her up, since their area was usually very quiet, and so were the couple themselves. Sandy Curly was like a ninja in her kitchen, so quiet you couldn’t even hear her chop up vegetables. She did not understand what Rosie meant when she’d told her that, though. 

“Hey Hercules.” She stretched and rubbed the dog’s ears. In her dream, she’d heard buzzing, but there was none that she could hear now. She took out her phone to see if that was the source instead, but was met with no notifications. Just her lock screen staring back at her with Curly’s blue, blue eyes. 

It was an older photo, back from their first year. She’d had long hair then, and he hadn’t decided on a beard yet. She’d dragged him to a convention for work, where there were a hundred other people who loved words just as much as she did. She liked that photo, once. Now it just reminded her of what she couldn’t have anymore. 

Bzz-bzz-bzz-bzz-bzz-bzz-

Her heart skipped a beat. She sat quickly, holding up her wrist. That band hadn’t buzzed in two months, not since she’d worn it in the shower. She’d put it in rice, she’d charged the battery, she’d changed the battery, nothing. 

And then she’d got an alert for Curly’s life insurance. Just thinking about it made her nauseous again. Maybe not nausea— something like heartburn, it was really hard to tell now. Chest pain. Her whole body ached. Whatever.

The buzzing slowed. Rosie stared at it, breathless. 

Bzzt-bzt. Bzzt-bzt. Bzzt-bzt. Bzzt-bzt. Bzzt-bzt. Bzzt-bzt.

“Grant…?” she said out loud to no one, as the implications settled in. 

Suddenly, Rosie couldn’t catch her breath. All she could manage were short gasps, each breath cold and sharp in her lungs. Her vision got blurry, and tears spilled onto her cheeks. 

“Are you really there…?”

Two Months After the Crash

Curly was never sure when he was sleeping or awake. He knew he was awake when he had to take his pills; the pain of that was too much for him to be asleep. He used to think that if he was seeing Rose, he had to be dreaming; that was until one time, she’d made him take his pills. A hallucination. It was Anya. Rose wasn’t there.

He was used to the agony now. Anya had done her best. For how many times she’d failed the medical exam, she was a miracle worker. Anya kept him horribly alive with just the basic supplies. He almost felt bad for wanting to die, and wasting all her hard work.

Daisuke had come in recently. He said something about breakfast… it must have been the morning. Had that been today, or yesterday? Curly wasn’t sure. He floated in and out of consciousness frequently, but no one could tell, because he couldn’t close his eyes. 

Eye. Just one.

He couldn’t close his eye. 

Not the point. The intern had brought him a gift, and it helped. The steady beat on his forearm was… faster than he remembered, but relaxing nonetheless. Most of the comfort came from the fact that Rose was still wearing it at all. She had to be, or else it wouldn’t have been beating. She was still on Earth, living and breathing, and she still loved him.

Pony Express had to have told her of the ship's disappearance from the radar by now. But she was still wearing it. Curly couldn’t decide if that made him happy or not. He wanted her to be happy, but she couldn’t possibly be happy hanging onto him right now. 

Before he could finish the thought, yesterday’s oxy started wearing off. He couldn’t bear the horrible noise— himself, unable to deal with the pain on every inch of what remained of his body. Vaguely, he heard Anya talking. 

“He doesn’t wanna keep still anymore…”

Please, Curly thought, just let me die.

“What about the pain killers?” Jimmy was there. That got Curly’s attention quickly. Jimmy alone with Anya— he couldn’t think straight right now, it hurt too much, but he knew they shouldn’t be alone. Jimmy shouldn’t be here. Curly writhed, trying to say something, do something— but it was no use. 

“I know you’ll figure it out Jimmy. You’re so capable!” Anya said shakily, probably showing that nervous smile that had long stopped reaching her eyes. If only he had noticed. 

Jimmy didn’t seem to react. Though, what did Curly know? He never knew what was real or not with Jimmy, apparently. 

Anya was still talking. “I was hoping you could help me with Captain—” 

“Curly.” Jimmy interrupted firmly.

“Right, um, sorry… with… with Curly’s medication?”

Curly didn’t hear anything after that. He went back to writhing on the table, suddenly gripped with fear over the painkillers that caused more agony in digestion before they ever worked for the rest of him. His chest rose and fell, emitting more of those horrible sounds— groans and whimpers that he was embarrassed to think he was even capable of producing.   

“I’ll take care of it.” 

No, no, no

Not Jimmy

Please no, I can’t do it 

I can’t do this 

Then Jimmy was standing over him, big and dark-eyed and intimidating. He was lit up by the red light of the sunset screen, like a devil in hellfire. Jimmy’s brown hair fell in front of his face, making it harder to see his eyes— scarily blank. He held the pill bottle like it was a weapon. In a way, it was. 

“Hold still, yeah?” Jimmy forced open Curly’s mouth with one finger, pushing down on his jaw. “I don’t like this any more than you do. You know what they say…” he started handling the cap, keeping it in front of himself. Perhaps to keep Anya from seeing him struggle with it.

“Pain is how we know we’re still living.” He finally got the top off. Behind him, Curly heard Anya gag. 

“I can’t bear to listen— excuse me, I’m sorry!” her footsteps moved quickly. Jimmy huffed in annoyance as the door slid closed, and went back to getting Curly’s pills. 

Suddenly, he stopped. Curly hoped— no, he prayed that Jimmy had come up with a single good thought, and might end his suffering. Jimmy was sick enough to do it, he knew that now. But Jimmy never put the pills down. He was staring at something, but Curly couldn’t see what. He tsked in disappointment. 

“Where did you even get this?” Jimmy scolded him, as if he were a dog with the wrong bone. To Curly’s horror, he hooked a finger around the band, pulling what was left of Curly’s arm up as he looked at it. Curly could only groan from his muscles being pulled without warning. 

Jimmy stared at it. He didn’t have nearly the same reaction Curly had to the faint, steady buzzing— the one thing that meant Rose was still there, still waiting, still alive. Human connection didn’t fascinate Jimmy the way it did Curly, all the way up in space. It didn’t matter. As long as Jim was at the top. 

“It’s not even worth wearing, even if we did get back to Earth…” he continued, sounding almost wistful. “Pretty sure Rosie would rather die than be stuck with a meat puppet like you. She was always pretty shallow…”

Jimmy dropped his arm. Curly couldn’t tell if the shooting pain he felt was entirely physical, or partially emotional. His friend sighed, ending his awful monologue. He frowned, looking almost remorseful. 

“I tried to stop her from taking advantage of you. You just couldn’t see it when I tried to tell you.”

Between the prayers for death or drugs, Curly realized how much he wanted to hurt Jimmy right now. More than just for insulting his wife, of course, but he could only focus on so much anger at once.

He just couldn’t help himself, could he?

Jimmy had always been… odd about her. Curly just thought it was normal. Jimmy liked pretty girls, but he was not usually so great at getting them to like him back, even platonically. He thought Jimmy’s awkwardness with her had just been one-sided attraction. The looks. The comments. The jokes. 

And he hadn’t minded so much, because it seemed like a given. Of course people thought Rose was pretty. She was. And Curly was happy for everyone to know it. 

But this was not… that. Whatever this was, Jimmy was taking full advantage of the fact Curly couldn’t punch him right now. 

“Who am I kidding, Curls? A girl like that probably had a side piece two weeks into the mission. She’s using all your money right now, I’m sure.” He poured a few oxys into his hand. “Honestly, given what you look like right now, it’s probably better she’s found someone else.”

Someone else?...  

She should find someone else. 

What had Jimmy called him? A meat puppet?

That’s what he was now, wasn’t he? Dead weight. Not even worthy of all the medical attention. Only kept alive out of sheer stubbornness and Anya’s desperate need for something to keep her away from Jimmy.

Before Curly realized it, Jimmy’s hand was hovering above his mouth, and he was sneering down at him. Curly wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Jimmy so ugly. Physically or personality wise. He was a completely different person. 

“C’mon, take your fucking medicine.” 

 Before he could move, Jimmy forced the pills into his mouth, and made damn sure he swallowed them. 

Chapter Text

Four Days Before Lift-Off

“Ugh…” Rose groaned in annoyance at her phone as she sat up in bed. She put it to the side and scrubbed her scalp with her fingers. 

Curly was currently very distracted, and only hummed in response. He was still laying down, and was busy counting the freckles on the side of her thigh. She didn’t have any freckles on her face, but there were plenty on her legs. He was not allowed to play connect-the-dots with them anymore because it was the summer and she liked wearing shorts. 

She got his attention by messing with his hair a bit. “Hey, Grant?” 

He hummed again, before noticing what she’d called him. He sat up. “Oi, why am I Grant today? What did I do?”

 She looked confused for a moment before chuckling at him. “You do know that’s your name, right?” 

“No it’s not. Not from you.” He frowned and tugged lightly on a few of her curls. 

“Fine.” She smiled and rolled her eyes. “Hey, honey?” 

He nodded, satisfied with her correction. “Yes, love?” 

Unfortunately, his poor fiancée had been saddled with hours and hours of work. Two magazines, three newspapers, and one online newsletter had apparently not gotten her leave notice and were demanding her contributions by midnight. 

“I’m sorry, honey, all of them want these done today for the Sunday releases.” Rose frowned, opening up her laptop. “Tell your parents I’m sorry, please? I’ll meet with them another time. Breakfast tomorrow, maybe.” 

“You got it.”

Rose was a cruciverbalist— she made puzzles for different article publishing companies. Crosswords, word searches, those weird ones with the circles— all from her brain. An odd job, but she loved it. And it taught him new big words every few days.

He made a fair big show of disappointment as he got out of bed. “I guess I’ll just have to be bored all day without you…” 

She bit her lip guiltily, watching as he stretched. “I can try to get this done quickly, but…” 

“No, no.” Curly shook his head, now searching his suitcase for clothes. “Work is important, take all the time you need. I’ll send some food up for you.”  

Rose sighed, absentmindedly tapping a few keys while he changed. “Okay… if there’s pancakes I want three. Please.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He leaned over the bed to peck her on the lips. 

“Thank you. Y’know, maybe I can see if this’ll get me some overtime.” 

“Atta girl.” 

He arrived to an oddly empty breakfast area. Not that he minded— less people, more food. One of the few people sitting down there was Jimmy, anyway, and Curly always liked to get in a few minutes of bothering him before the day started. It was his job. 

“No Rosie?” his copilot sat up a bit. 

“Nope, she had work. I sent her some food.” Curly slid in the booth next to him. “Hey, have you seen Swansea around yet?”

Jimmy shook his head, cutting up his breakfast like it had insulted him personally. “Him and his old lady were visiting their kids or something before heading down. Something about a broken sink, I dunno.” 

“Oh, alright.” Curly took notice of the poor sausages on the other end of Jimmy’s wrath. He was agitated; withdrawal, probably. Pony Express employees weren’t allowed to smoke for a full week before lift-off, and of course, never on the ship itself. They recommended nicotine patches, but they didn’t work well with Jimmy. That explained his weird comments back at the house. 

After eating (he’d been hungrier than he thought) he tried to think of an actual way to fill the day while she was working. He usually had no trouble— but they weren’t at home. No extra chores to help with, here. 

“They have a gym here.” Jimmy said, out of nowhere. 

“Perfect.” 

He was going to miss actual work-out equipment. Pony Express didn’t want to pay for any real machines, and so any fitness equipment he had access to would be his own. But it was kind of hard to meet weight requirements when some of your carry-on was filled with… actual weights. He’d make do with some sturdy pipes in the hallways (for pull ups) and stacks of books that he could borrow from Anya. If she’d let him. 

“Hey, can I ask?” 

Curly finished his deadlifts and set down the bar, panting a little. “Sure, what?” 

“So, if you’re postponing, when are you actually getting married?” Jimmy tossed him his water. “I kinda have to know that, if I’m doing the bachelor party.” 

“Uhh…” He sat up and pushed his hair back. Truth be told, Curly had been replanning the wedding in his head the moment he’d been given the assignment. They were supposed to get married in a couple months— September. Spring was when his allergies acted up, and winter was too cold for the dress she planned. 

“I’m not sure. I mean, people have long engagements all the time, right?” He sat on the bench at the squat rack.

“Eh. Yeah, I guess. I still don’t know why you didn’t tell them to…” Jimmy made a fist and brushed it past his other hand, mouthing shove it up your ass.

Curly chuckled, ducking below the barbell to start his bench presses. “I can’t say that. I’d receive disciplinary action. Could get fired.” 

“Oh no, not disciplinary action.” Jimmy said in a mocking tone. “Can’t have that, because then you wouldn’t be their golden boy anymore.” 

Instead of dignifying that with a response, Curly huffed and rolled his eyes. “Shut up and spot me.” 

After his set was done, they switched. Jimmy was at a lower personal record than him, and he was determined to get to that point. Curly talked while keeping an eye on the bar. Jim said it helped once.

“Honestly, it— we kind of need the money anyway, with what we want to do. One, two, three.”

“Can you count in your head?” 

“Sorry.” 

“Keep talking.” 

“Okay. Anyway, I’m thinking she can take what we set aside for the wedding and use it for something that… matters more, I guess. She loves her job, but she gets paid per assignment. It’s not enough to save for what we want.” He shrugged, keeping his hands at position in case his friend needed it. 

“Like what?” 

“You're at ten. I don’t know, a house? Buying one, not just renting. A dog, maybe?” He thought for a moment before he let the next words out. They made him feel warm. “Kids, once I get back?” 

“ Kids? ” Jimmy’s eyebrows shot up and his arms faltered. Curly hurriedly grabbed the bar and helped him secure it back onto the hooks.

“Here-” He handed the other man his waterbottle, which was then drained by half. “Sorry, you okay?” 

Jimmy blinked hard a few times, looking the slightest bit confused. “Yeah, I just— wow, kids. Already?”

“Well,” Curly rubbed the back of his neck, “yeah, I’m in my thirties. She’ll be thirty in a few months. It’s getting close to time, I think. Are you actually okay?” 

“I’m fine.” Jim said firmly. “Just don’t stick me with babysitting duty.” 

Something about his reaction felt off, but Curly decided to ignore it. Jimmy was always kind of off when he was in withdrawal. The nicotine patches didn’t work. 

As they were leaving the gym area, they split up to clean off in their respective hotel rooms. Well, actually, Jimmy split off. They had neighboring rooms, so Curly gave him an excuse and headed towards the front desk for a few special requests. He couldn’t risk Jimmy knowing and then slipping up. 

After that was taken care of, the next step was meeting up with his parents. They were having lunch in the hotel restaurant. Once he’d explained, they were fully onboard with his idea. Curly felt a little bad for lying, especially to Jimmy, but it would all end up fine. Better, probably.

Chapter Text

Seven Days Before the Crash

Curly woke up to the insufferable beeping of the Pony Express Alarm clock. The thing had no snooze button and it was bolted into the wall, so he couldn’t break it. Even if he wanted to. 

He had to be up. As captain he had jobs to do at specific times, and he needed to be up for it. He could handle that. The problem was that of the measly five hours recommended by the company, Curly wasn’t sure he was even getting three. 

The only reason he knew he’d slept at all was because he was dreaming. It was a repeat dream, normally, but it had been showing up even more than usual the longer he was on the ship. It was a good memory. Things had changed, though, and it only unsettled him more each time. 

It would always start in a bar— close to the neighborhood he lived in at the time, if he remembered right. He was alone, because Jimmy had disappeared in the crowd. Somehow, Rose— Rosie, she almost never introduced herself as Rosalie— had appeared beside him. She was leaning against the wall, breathing hard, chest rising and falling to the beat of the new lazy song. That’s the only reason she’d stopped dancing— it was too slow. 

In his dream, he’d just watch her. Eventually she’d look over, red in the face from the dancing and alcohol but playing it off just as she had the first time.

“Hiya, gorgeous.” She said, with that sing-songy Irish accent he had long stopped noticing. He couldn’t tell if it had faded or if he’d just gotten used to it. 

When this had actually happened, someone bumped into him, and his drink spilled all over her dress. Here though, in his dreams, everyone else was just a shadow, passing through them both as if they were the only two people who existed. They were invisible to everyone else, but invisible together. 

Rosie said something else, but he couldn’t hear it. The shadows were too loud. The lazy music lost its melody, creating an overwhelming base every couple of seconds. It was too much. So he stopped listening, and focused on what he could see. 

She had a shiny pink sash that was losing its luster. It was cheap; the bar gave them out to women celebrating their birthdays. Her earrings were dangly, and swung as she moved her head to the music. Rosie loved that kind of thing. Her hair was longer than he’d seen it in years, straightened out so it went all the way down her back. It looked darker in this lighting. 

But he’d have trouble with her face. Every time he tried to see it, everything would blur, and he’d usually wake up. 

He used to like that dream. Now it just frustrated him. 

“Day one-hundred-and-forty.” He drew an “X” on the digital calendar with his finger, then rolled over to his stomach. He’d long ago taped his wallet photo of her to the bed post, so he wouldn’t risk losing it on the ship. And maybe so he could look at it first thing every morning. 

But he was fine. Fine. He just didn’t want to be on this ship anymore. It had been too long since he’d seen the sun. 

Breakfast was fine, checking the cockpit was fine, piloting was fine. He was exhausted, but fine. 

“Captain, are you listening to me?” 

Curly shook his head a little, tuning back in. Right. Psych eval. Anya. Right. 

“Yeah, yeah, damn.” He rubbed the back of his neck, sore from sleeping oddly. “I’m sorry. Didn’t sleep much last night. But I passed the psych eval?” 

Anya’s shiny black eyes were narrow, peering at him from under her wispy bangs. Something about her gaze made him feel like she was seeing right through him. He did feel sort of hollow, today. 

“Well…” she tapped on the table with one of her nails, “you gave the same answers as last time… I do wish you’d open up a little more, Captain. These evaluations affect more than just you. And… I know it’s hard with the calling system being broken…” 

Anya didn’t seem upset with him, just… concerned. And she might’ve been right to feel like that. But this was normal. Most people lost a little sleep when they were busy. Most people missed their families. She wasn’t wrong— it had been rough. The system didn’t work. He hadn’t spoken with Rose since they left Earth. 

He took a deep breath and smiled at her, turning on what Jimmy had annoying called “the charm.” It made him feel more awake.

“As long as I’m fit to fly in your eyes, Anya.” 

She chuckled and smiled back, not as nervous as usual. “Oh, stop it. Guess that means I only have one more eval to do…” She wrote something down, smile dropping. 

“Jimmy?” Curly guessed. Jimmy had long since lost fondness for Anya, it seemed. He could be… poor at hiding his feelings. Insensitive. Curly couldn’t blame her for dreading the interaction. He was kind of exhausting to be around sometimes.

That was a horrible feeling— a horrible thought, and Curly felt guilty for even letting the weariness reach him. But it had been a while since any of Jimmy’s behavior could be attributed to withdrawal, at least from nicotine. 

Curly could understand the withdrawal from Earth, though. Even he got a little irritable about that at times. So… maybe he let Jimmy bulldoze once in a while. He just didn’t have the energy to stop him over these minor infractions. 

Anya nodded. Her eyes were tired too, but still had a sharp little pinprick of annoyance. It was kind of relieving to see little bits of light in her. She’d opened up in the first months, but had become more reclusive in the last couple of weeks. At least she was still just as passionate about board games as ever. 

“He acts like I do this for fun. Then I have to make a report with things like…” she grimaced, exasperation never leaving her tone. “I have found myself sexually excited at the sight of cartoon horses. I just— why is he like this? ” Anya shook her head. 

“Ha!” Curly couldn’t help laughing, distracted from his minor spiral. “Well, if you want, I can take it off your hands.” 

“Really?” Anya asked hopefully. 

“Of course, I’ve known him for a long time. He won’t try any bullshit with me.” Curly assured her with a nod of his head. She thought about it more (Anya did more thinking than speaking, usually), probably about how HIPAA played into all of this. 

“I suppose… you are the captain.” 

“I am the captain, yeah.” 

She thanked him, sending him off to Swansea with a sticky note and a smile. He left feeling better than when he’d come in. Anya was always a relief to be around. Something about her was… soothing, sort of. Curly was glad to see she was doing alright. 

Jimmy stood outside the engineering room, as if waiting for him. More than likely he was just listening to Swansea yell at Daisuke, which he always found funny. Daisuke had a tendency to annoy Jimmy, so Curly tried to keep them separate. But there was only so much you could do on a four-person voyage. Especially when they were over capacity. 

Jimmy chuckled, listening to the old man yell. “And they say they don’t provide on-board entertainment.” 

“Feels like there’s always something broken on this ship…” Curly sighed, stretching. Still tired. “The Tulpar is showing her age.” 

“Passed the inspection though, right? Shouldn’t be an issue.” 

“Well, we are over capacity. I should have made a bigger issue out of that.” 

Swansea’s yelling grew in volume. 

Jimmy’s eyes slid over to the door, humor waning. “You could intervene… or we could just close the door.” He smirked. “Your call, Cap’.” 

Curly went in anyway.

Chapter Text

Seven Days Before the Crash

“Well…” Curly pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh. “I can see the issue.” 

Daisuke was squirming around, trying to escape a mountain of quickly hardening foam. It was useless— the stuff was about as solid as wood the second it was deployed. A good safety measure. Also, too sensitive for the ship’s own good. 

Swansea was pacing angrily, a vein popping. “This kid was brought on just to make me suffer. Intern, my ass!”

“I was just trying to fix the vent, man!” Daisuke cut in, urgent to defend himself in front of Curly. “How was that enough to trigger the emergency foam?”

“BECAUSE YOU’RE TALENTED IN ALL THE WRONG WAYS!” The old man shouted at him, making the other two wince. He turned to Curly, bitter. “I would’ve dealt with this m’self, but only you can unlock the axe. Every god-damnned thing has to go through you.”

This was a common complaint from Swansea.

“I’ll handle it!” Curly put his arms up, backing out to find the axe. It was in an odd place. “Hang in there Daisuke.” 

He ran out to the hallway to find it, code scanner already at his belt. Jimmy called him a boy scout for it, but Curly always maintained it was better to be prepared than have to search the ship every time they needed to open a door. Even if it looked a little awkward. 

He returned with the axe, and Jimmy raised his eyebrows as he passed. 

“Alright. Stand still.” 

“I don’t have much of a choice…” Daisuke’s voice wavered a little. Understandable. The axe was “big and scary.” Heavy and alarm-red with a sharp, shiny blade. 

Curly did his best to free him. The foam felt like styro to the touch, but was unexpectedly hard. If punctured the wrong way it would deflate into gross, crumbly gum-like stuff. Chipping away at it little by little was the only way to do it. When he was done. Daisuke was left with crusty remnants on his pants. 

“Strong stuff, huh?” he joked. This was not the right thing to say. 

“Get it through your thick skull!” Swansea was all red. Curly hadn’t seen him this mad in years— he almost felt bad for the kid. He was practically a bystander now that Daisuke was free. 

“That vent is strictly off limits!” Swansea continued, pointing a finger at his trainee. “Fully fuckin’ collapsed inside! You looking to get impaled, electrocuted, and cooked?!” 

“Yeaahh but like… You can’t fit in there to fix it, yeah? So I can totally handle it-!” 

“Captain.” Swansea looked at Curly sharply, reminding him he existed again. “Give me the axe.”

“Swansea.” Curly frowned, finally getting to do his job. “This could have damaged the pods. You can’t let something like this happen again.” 

The old man sighed, face returning to its usual red (which was much lighter than his angry red). “Yeah yeah… I got it. Loud and clear.” 

“Keep the axe until you’ve cleaned this all up, okay?” He placed the heavy weapon in Swansea’s hands, where he knew it would be safe despite Swansea’s apparent intention to use it on his intern. Swansea accepted it, before barking at Daisuke to start cleaning up. 

“I take it Anya diagnosed you with being sane then?” Jimmy stood in the hallway, waiting for him. There were Polle posters every few steps. Curly chuckled, remembering his new blackmail. 

“Just off center, but that’s what keeps me on my toes. I said I’d do yours.” He raised his eyebrows a couple of times, smirking. “I wanna hear all about those cartoon horses you mentioned.” 

Jimmy scoffed and rolled his eyes, but Curly kept going. 

“So, is that somethin’ you were born with? Or is that just a recent develop-”

“All right all right, shut up.” Jimmy looked like he was trying not to laugh, though Curly already was. “Let’s go to the cockpit.” 

“I’m never letting you live this down.”

“Whatever.” 

Curly dropped into his pilot’s chair, spinning just from putting weight on it. They were the comfiest seats in the whole ship, perfect for hours and hours of sitting. Jimmy eyed the eval with a frown. He probably thought they were invasive.

“You can’t just make something up for this?” he asked, sitting rigid. “It’s not like these evals ever go anywhere when we get back.” 

“We’ll power through it.” Curly assured him with a smile. Jimmy rolled his eyes, but complied.  

What followed was basic, at best. Boring, at worst. Jimmy was just as tight-lipped as he was during these evaluations. At least, with Curly. Jimmy liked messing with Anya too much to give serious answers when she asked the questions. 

Eventually, he checked off the last few questions. 

“I guess I’ll just put good for that one.” Curly put the clipboard off to the side, eying Jimmy. He was restless, despite being in the cockpit. “That’s it. How are things otherwise? Y’know, off the record.” 

Jimmy shrugged. He’d only been copilot for the last few trips. Before this, he’d been a ship linguist, who was only in charge of learning enough alien language to get through the delivery. Jimmy had not liked that job, though he had learned some interesting new swears. This trip didn’t need a linguist, since the life forms at their destination communicated through thought. 

“I like it. We’re in control here.” He tapped the arm of his chair. Curly prompted him again. He recalled Anya from earlier. 

I do wish you’d open up a little more.

“Didn’t know you’d ever take to being a freighter pilot as well as you have been, what with the issues on Earth.” Curly kept an eye on the screen, slightly adjusting the steering yoke. 

“Sure.” Jimmy had cargo jobs before, mostly truck driving, but he hadn’t liked that much either. Hated being alone. He kept talking, changing the subject. “All I ever hear is how great of a leader you are…and I guess you are. But honestly, it’s kind of annoying.” 

Jimmy fixed him in a narrow glare, not hateful, just focused. “So, what is it?” 

Curly sat up, unprepared to talk about himself. “Sorry, what I don’t know what you mean.” 

Jimmy shook his head. “No, no. How come it always seems like your standing on the edge with your feet in cement?” 

I do wish you’d open up a little more.

The question took the wind out of his sails. Or whatever the equivalent was on a space ship. 

Curly liked his job. He liked visiting other planets, talking with aliens, finding souvenirs. He liked space. He’d stood outside on Jupiter, for god’s sake, and nearly all of its moons. Incredible. It had to be the best job in the universe, just for that. 

So where was his misery coming from? 

It sat on his chest like a thick block of wet clay. It surrounded him like water, and he waded through it every morning just to get out of bed. But he had no idea where it came from. He loved his job. He loved his life. 

Curly had attributed this to just missing Rose. Canceling a wedding they’d worked on for months, stalling on looking for a house, stalling on trying for kids. He knew she would be spending most of her time alone with him gone. If the call system worked, he’d have told her to pick out a dog. 

But it couldn’t just be that. Because the misery followed him home— lighter, but still there. Something was missing. He had no idea what it was. Why can’t I just be happy where I am?

“I guess…” he sighed, finally letting it go. “Lately I’ve just been thinking. Is this enough?” 

Jimmy kept his gaze. Curly hesitated before continuing.

“Should I just stay here because I’m good at it? A successful long-hall freighter captain? A space mailman?” 

“And that’s… bad?” His friend raised an eyebrow.

Curly had always wanted to go to space. When he was a kid, it was dreams of Saturn. But they reached Saturn when he was a teenager. So then, it was dreams of Pluto, which was cooler and edgy at the time. And then they’d reached Pluto when he started college. 

It wasn’t bad at all. It’s just not exactly what he thought he’d be doing.  

“That’s what I’m saying, it’s not. But… it’s terrifying.” Curly glanced back at the screen. They were perfectly on course. “Am I all figured out? Is this all I can be?” 

He looked back at his copilot, who still had him fixed in his gaze. “Or… do I risk it and try something new? Even if I’m bad at it.”

Jimmy didn’t answer immediately. He was thinking, brows furrowed. Eventually, he leaned his elbows on his knees and rested his head on one of his hands. 

“I guess I get it. You’ve reached the highest rung on this ladder. So now you’re thinkin’ you might be on the wrong ladder.” He leaned back into his chair, looking away from Curly and adjusting the yoke again. “Still a long way down from the top, no matter how you look at it…” 

Jimmy looked at him again, frowning. “While I’m still climbing and climbing.” 

Curly raised a hand in a shrug. Close enough. “Something like that. I mean…” he thought about Earth again. Home. Rose. “Life… has to happen too, sometime. And that means a change, if I want a family. Can’t be absent if I want to be good at it.” Curly sat up, noticing Jimmy’s new demeanor. 

“But hey, hey, hey! You know I believe in you!” he nodded, steering the conversation the other way again. “Here, and on Earth. Doesn’t matter to me.” He grinned, and Jimmy gave one back. It made Curly feel better almost instantly. Jimmy could be exhausting sometimes, but he could also be the exact opposite for Curly— that’s what best friends were like. 

“Ha. You should write that on my psych eval.” 

Before Curly could respond, the screen flashed red. His heart skipped a beat in panic, before the fax machine hummed to life. A message from corporate. 

Jimmy’s smile dropped again. “Oh no. The big guys. I guess that’s my cue.” He stood out of his pilot’s chair and pushed it back towards the console. “See you later, Curls.

Chapter Text

One Month After Lift-Off

Curly usually liked his job. He liked this ship. The Tulpar had done well for several trips, even surviving a few bumps and scrapes along the way. Sure, she was showing her age, but it was still a smooth ride with proper function. 

But right now? He hated this ship. 

He, along with everyone else, had waited a full month to talk with his loved ones. He’d counted down the days one by one by one— it was all he could look forward to. Usually after the first few weeks he was adjusted enough that there wasn’t so much aching, but he always got his phone call. Not this time. 

The system just didn’t work. Not only had it been broken for some time, but Pony Express had removed some of the parts entirely. Liquidated assets. In corporate's eyes, the Tulpar crew had no need for contacting anyone outside of the company itself. Pony Express had neglected to tell them this until the day after his scheduled call time, leaving him to worry and stew for twelve hours.

He just needed an hour. That’s all he was promised— even fifteen minutes would have been worth it. It was better than nothing at all.

Even a video or something would have been okay— just a video of her talking. Just something new. Just to hear her voice. Maybe his parents’ voices, if he could. Even if he couldn’t say anything back. It was better than being stuck in the stuffy silence of space, feeling like your head was stuffed with cotton and far from any kind of sound that meant "home." 

Curly wasn’t the only one who was angry over this. Daisuke was pouting over not being able to talk to his girlfriend, and Swansea was grumpier than usual at not hearing from his wife. Anya was sad not to talk to her nieces and nephews. Jimmy seemed okay with not calling Nicole, but they were never that close in the first place. 

That night, Curly had a good dream.

Rose was on the ship with him. She didn’t speak, and her eyes were a little different— they flashed a shade greener than usual. She smiled at him mischievously, hiding from him around the ship and allowing him to chase her to his quarters. Then his bed.

Oh, fuck... I needed this…

She giggled, but he couldn’t hear it. He tried to count her freckles again, but his vision swam, and he settled for laying pressed to her side. She was warm. Very warm.

When he woke up, the ship was hot— too hot. Had to be an engineering issue. The warmth wasn’t Rose; he’d actually been hugging both of his pillows and a majority of his covers. She’d never been there in the first place. Her heartbeat was racing on his wrist, though. She couldn’t be happy about the broken system either. 

Bzt-bzt-bzt-bzt-bzt

Curly fixed his bed, then showered in cold water. He was a mess. 

One Month

Rosie waited hours for the call. She didn’t leave the house for the whole day. 

She woke at five and drank black coffee (she’d run out of creamer three days ago). She kept her devices fully charged. She even tried one of Grant’s protein shakes (they were gross, but did give her energy). Breakfast was sugar cereal and eggs.

She kept herself busy with work, starting whatever she could with the themes each company had given her. It never hurt to be prepared, and she did have a fair amount to do. Each of her employers had different set of rules, regulations, and requirements for her to follow. It kept her properly distracted.

As the day waned, she kept a caffeinated beverage in her hand at all times. She watched the evening news on the floor by the outlet, surrounded by work papers and her computer. It was almost midnight when she finally received Pony Express’s email. 

Polle Says, 

Sorry! There was a Disconnect with the Satellite or other Equipment ! No calls Available for the Duration of the Trip!

Pony Express Human Resources Department

Rosie stared at it, a bit numb. She refreshed the page a few times, in case there had been some mistake. The back of her eyes ached, both from the blue light of her computer and the stinging words of the email. It looked like a fill-in-the-blank apology message. She shook her head.

So impersonal. 

She checked the next morning. No new messages.

Rosie had held it in, trying not to be dramatic, trying not to jump to conclusions. But it was just too hard. She would not talk to him until he reached the Earth’s crust, in about three-hundred-fifty-or-so days. So it was okay to cry, probably. For the whole day, maybe. 

She tried to convince herself it wouldn’t have been worth it, anyways. A phone call would only have made her miss him more, since there was a limit. Her pining and "husband withdrawal" would get worse. This didn’t work, and she cried some more. 

Of course it would have been worth it. It was worth it, because she hadn’t heard his voice in a month, and had only spoken with her in-laws and Nicole (who she wasn’t very close with). She hadn’t gotten anything from him at all, which was normal, but made her so, so anxious. Her nails were bitten down as far as they’d go. 

Dehydrated, Rosie filled one of Curly’s giant waterbottles (the kind with motivational phrases and numbers, so you drank throughout the day) and grabbed most of the sweets out of their pantry. 

After rotting on the couch for a couple of hours, an idea struck. Nothing could fix that she couldn’t talk to Grant. But she could still call someone she loved. Her mother and father had just moved— might as well call them and check. After all, before she was Rosalie Curly, she was Rosalie O’Doyle. 

“Ah, Rosaleen!” her mother sang from the other side of the phone. Rosaleen was what people called her in Ireland, and her mother fell into it sometimes too. It’s why she’d stopped introducing herself as Rosalie— no one could mess up Rosie . The only other name she’d go by was Rose, but Grant was the only one who called her that. 

“Hi Mammy,” Rosie scrubbed her eyes, putting the phone on speaker, “how’s Clifden, then? The move? I could’ve made the trip…”

“Oh, i’s just fine without ya, I have a strong husband with me!” 

There was clanging and hissing in the background. Rosie could picture her mom in her kitchen, working away at whatever she’d decided to make that day. She didn’t know what her mother’s kitchen looked like yet— she really should visit, it would probably help. After all, working at home meant she could travel. 

“Say hello to pa for me then? And Éabha?”

“Ah, if I can! The works gotten harder on her, I be seein’ less and less of her every day.” 

Her mother’s musical accent was more comforting than Rosie realized it would be. It had been a while since she’d called them. Much less her siblings. They were all so busy all the time— she really had to bother them more. It was her job as the oldest sister. 

“Finny?” 

“The dog?” 

“Yeah, she was a wee thing when I last saw her.”  

As she spoke with her mom, she realized how different her voice had become. She and Curly kind of blended accents at times, which she thought was sweet. And they were both such nice accents, too, so there was no wrong way to go. Rosie felt a bit sad that it had changed so much. Maybe she could get it back. 

It turned out that Finny had puppies. Éabha— her youngest sister, around sixteen— was doing well in her new school, even if the work was hard. Cormac was visiting with his girlfriend, and he didn’t talk much, but she was quite bubbly. Her father had made friends at the pub. The rest of her siblings didn’t live there, but her mother filled her in on all the family gossip she’d been missing.

“We miss you here, lass.” 

Rosie sniffed, feeling better. “I miss you too.” 

Chapter Text

Two Months After Lift-Off

Anya couldn’t get out of her shower. 

She wasn’t trapped, she just couldn’t make herself leave the bathroom. She’d been in there long enough to run out of the shower water allowance for the next twenty-four hours, but she didn’t feel clean. 

It took a long time, but she’d managed to get into her clothes and zip the jumpsuit. She chose a turtleneck— there were bruises on her neck and shoulders. She wasn’t trying to hide anything. She just couldn’t bear to see it herself. 

Eventually, she made her way to the lounge. No one was eating anymore, and the only person in there was Daisuke. 

“Hey A-dog,” he said, focusing on his game. Not the videogame— he was tossing a ball at the wall and catching it. “I haven’t dropped it yet! Fifty streak!” 

“Hello, Daisuke.” She responded quietly, getting herself breakfast. She wasn’t hungry, but she had to eat— if she’d sustained any injuries, she had to eat. She needed to keep her strength up. Just in case he… 

Just in case it happens again.

She couldn’t let him get in. She couldn’t handle ten more months of this. 

The captain entered the lounge, carrying a large mug. He nodded and smiled at her, then grabbed the coffee pitcher. “Hey, Anya. Coffee? I’m just here for a refill.” 

“Hi, Curly. Yes, thanks.” 

I need to tell him.

Would he do anything? 

He grabbed a mug and poured it for her, then slid it over the counter. “I have a feeling you didn’t sleep well?” 

Curly was a good man, as far as she knew. He was kind to a fault and always wanted to make the best outcome for everyone on board. Curly cared about her well-being. But… 

Curly’s best friend was… 

“Just up late. Studying, you know. Never read about burns before.” Anya lied.

She decided not to tell him. Just for now— she could tell him some other time, but not now. It was too soon, and she didn’t know what he’d do about it. Curly hadn’t seemed to notice the way his own partner had shied away from Jimmy back at the hotel, so she didn’t have much hope. Maybe Jimmy would get worse soon. Maybe Curly could notice on his own. 

Her head was foggy. She left the lounge as soon as she finished her food. Maybe she could pretend to study. There was a lock in there.

Two Months

“Ugh, I feel terrible…” Rosie groaned, looking through Nicole’s fridge. She’d agreed to help her clean it out out of sheer boredom. Some of these items had to be going bad— the smell of those leftovers was abysmal.  

“What do you mean?” the other woman asked, checking the expiration date on some sour cream. She seemed much less concerned over the state of her fridge. 

“You have a lot of bad food in here, just makes me feel a wee bit nauseous.” 

Nicole raised an eyebrow at her words. Rosie had been calling her family every day, and some of the Irish was rubbing back onto her. “Not that much bad food. You’re not feeling well?” 

“I guess I’m just feeling under the weather then.” Rosie shrugged and tossed an old egg carton. 

“Mayyybe… that is because you keep eating crap.” Nicole gestured to her lunch bag, where there was a suspicious-looking sandwich, crisps, and a cupcake that was a little burnt. She’d forgotten they were in the oven. 

Rosie shrugged again, reaching into the back of the fridge to wipe up something sticky. “It’s called eating my feelings.” 

“What kind of feeling is… pulled pork and grape jelly?” Nicole asked, only slightly hiding her disgust. Fair. Rosie wasn’t entirely sure why it worked either, but hey, it wasn’t so different from turkey and cranberry sauce. 

“In my defense, it’s very good!” She cleaned off the shelf and threw away the wipes. “I guess I should just get a checkup or something… it’s near that time of year anyways.” 

The other woman shrugged at her, tying up a trash bag. “Better than throwing up because of your sandwich from hell.” 

Rosie didn’t like hospitals much. Even through all the technological advances in the past decades, the waiting rooms remained the same. Pointlessly hard carpet, uncomfortable seats, and filtered air. It wasn’t so bad, but usually she wouldn’t have been alone. She brought the giant waterbottle with her instead.

Of course, because a woman can’t go to the doctor for a cold without taking a pregnancy test, she had to take one as well. 

“Congratulations, Mrs. Curly, you’re pregnant.”

Rosie choked on her water, coughing and placing the heavy jug on the crinkly paper next to her. “I am what now? ” 

The doctor— Dr. Wales— smiled brightly at her, white teeth nearly glowing beneath red lipstick. “Your test results indicated you are pregnant. Now, it may be better to get some of these questions out of the way now, rather than later.” 

This can’t be happening…

“I-” Rosie furrowed her brow, trying to think. “I thought… No, I can’t be. Test again.”

She tilted her head at Rosie, smile fading. “I apologize, were you and your husband not… trying? I thought you were newlyweds.” 

Rosie nodded a little, counting in her head. “Well, we are— and we do want kids, I think— but he, um…” she bit her lip and frowned. “This is too soon, he’s not— I’m alone, you see-” 

Dr. Wales sat in her desk chair, adjusting her demeanor. “Let’s start from the beginning. When was the last time you engaged in sexual conduct?” 

Rosie didn’t need to think too much. “Sixty-three days.” 

The older woman seemed surprised. “That was quick!” 

“That’s the last time I was in bed with my husband. This— I mean, this is too soon.”

“Yes, you mentioned.” she smiled kindly, writing on her clipboard. “Did you not notice your lack of cycle?” 

“Well it’s always been irregular…” Rosie felt her cheeks burn, and she twisted her hair around her finger. “I’ve just been so distracted. I have my husband gone another— gosh, year? I don’t have anything ready!”

Dr. Wales placed a hand on hers. “Remember to breathe. If you’re right about…” she did math in her head, “Nine weeks or so, you’re still within first trimester, and you have plenty of time. I will say this means your husband may not be present for the birth…” 

“It was then, it had to be.” Rosie nodded, cheeks still burning. “I guess we just forgot… We’re usually careful but, well, the whole week— he was leaving, we couldn’t not… you know.” she smiled sheepishly. Honestly, as far as last times go, what a ride.  

Dr. Wales chuckled, nodding. “I have seen him before. I understand.” 

Rosie went home feeling strange. But not awful. A little disappointed, but only because Grant wouldn’t be there— she knew he would want to be around for this. She couldn’t even tell him about it. 

She sat down with another unholy sandwich and opened her laptop. Babies needed… things. And she needed a guide. And maybe names. Girl names, at least. If it was a boy, Grant would obviously name him after Jim, and probably ask him to be godfather. 

She felt a spike of anxiety. When Curly got back, Jimmy would be back too. And Jimmy didn’t seem to like the idea of them having kids. Her forehead ached in memory, and she drew up her knees as if protecting herself. 

I know what you're doing. I won’t let you trap him.

She’d never told Curly about what happened that night. She didn’t want to cause a fight. One way or another, someone was getting punched. Jimmy just didn’t like change, and he really didn’t like when Curly went somewhere he couldn’t follow. She doubted Jimmy wanted kids.  

Big wedding or small, it doesn’t matter.

We can use that money for home improvements.

Home improvements. Right. 

Rosie opened another window, this time looking for house listings. They were already married, it was perfect. That was all they needed— and this freed up a lot of money. The next step was a home for them to grow in. Start their lives. 

“Okay, little guy, let’s find a new place to live.” 

Three Months After Lift-Off

This can’t be happening. 

“No, no, no.” 

Her heart hammered against her rib cage, pounding in her head. Her vision swam. 

This couldn’t be happening. She’d been careful— she’d blocked him out, she’d filled her suitcase and stuck it in front of the door every night. It was just big enough to keep stuck between her bed and the doorframe. She’d tried so hard. He hadn’t managed to get to her again. Just the once. 

But once was enough. It was always enough.

Anya always thought it was strange that Pony Express had kept pregnancy tests in the med bay— sure, they were medical equipment, but who would be in the mood for that kind of thing on a space ship with three or four other people? And it wasn’t like there were the materials to aid in birth. 

Or a D&C procedure. The only way to get rid of it is…

Pills. But that had just as much a chance of killing her, too. 

And really, it’s not like she hadn’t thought about that. Death was something she considered. Sometimes being on this ship with him felt like too much— he was everywhere, watching, glaring, staring. He paid her no attention anymore unless it was to get in her space, to make her shy away. And then had the audacity to look offended when she backed away from him. 

But she didn’t want to be remembered as the nurse who killed herself on a space ship. She would end up on the news. No one would ever know what he’d done to her. He’d walk a free man. And, besides that, what would they do with her body? Protocol for accidental death on the ship was cremation or sending the body out the airlock, and she didn’t want to be floating around Mars for eternity. 

The hopelessness settled in her stomach, weighing her down like a heavy stone. They had nine months left, and if her math was right, that was too long.

This wasn’t something she could just… hide. Eventually it would become obvious. There was only so much the oversized uniforms could do to cover a growing stomach. 

She needed to tell the captain about it. He had to be notified of the situation— it was protocol. He would want to help. But… then she’d have to tell him who had made her this way. Who did it. And that was the part she was nervous about. 

Curly had a kind heart, but it was too indiscriminate. It extended to everyone, especially people he cared about. And on this ship, there was no one Curly cared about more than his copilot. There was no telling if he’d even believe her. She couldn’t tell him. Yet. Yet.

Anya stared at the little pink paper slip, trying to remember anything else that could rid her of this parasite before it was too late. She’d have to check the bay for their supplies of blood thinners. And check her books to measure the risk. She couldn’t let him win. 

Chapter Text

Three Days Before Lift-Off

“Hey, did you know that the moon used to be way closer to Earth?” Rose asked from above him. 

He’d wanted a morning workout, and she wanted to read her book. The answer was clearly doing pushups with her sitting cross-legged on his back. Curly couldn’t see her face, but he could picture her— she always read her books folded in one hand, like a freak, because she liked twisting her hair around her finger on the opposite hand. 

“I heard something like that…” he grunted, “How many am I at now?”

She hummed, releasing her hair to rub at a spot on his spine. “Twenty… seven. Twenty eight. Twenty nine…” 

“Okay. The moon? You were saying?” 

“Right. Anyway, the moon has been drifting away a couple centimeters a year. I mean, it’s at different distances in general, with the apogee and perigee, but it’s farther overall. I wonder how big it used to look when it was closer.” Her hand left his back. 

Curly just hummed in response and let her talk. Of course he knew that about the moon, he saw the coordinates change every time he was on a trip. But he’d much rather listen to her explain it again with more of her fancy words. He’d have to ask if he was allowed to take one of her voicemails on the ship, if there was a way to do that. 

Breakfast was fine. Pony Express covered the meals of the crew members and a plus one, which was uncharacteristically generous. 

His mother and father found their table and joined them, both sparing glances at Rose before sitting. His mother had this gleamy look in her eye, and his father was smiling a little more obviously than usual.

They’d been all too happy to help him with his plans this evening, he just hoped there would be no slip-ups before then. 

“Dad, can you invite us to something… nice, tomorrow?” he’d asked, looking very out of place in the hotel restaurant with his gym clothes. “Mom, can you help me set something up?”

“Rosalie, kiddo?” Mr. Curly started, in his deep southern drawl. Rose looked up quickly. She was always worrying about whether they liked her or not— he wasn’t sure how many times he’d have to repeat that they adored her. 

“Yes sir?” she set down her fork and sat up, leaving Grant’s side cold. 

“We’d like to have dinner tonight at that there french place nearby. It’s a good spot.” 

“Oh, sure!” She nodded, curls bouncing. “What time?” 

“Eight in the evening.” Mrs. Curly supplied, swiping some of her flaxen hair behind her ear. “You may want to eat a late lunch to hold you over. It’s got a lovely show at that time.” 

“Eight?” Rose looked perplexed, glancing back at him for input. Grant tried to look neutral. She continued, “That’s a little late, but sure. Is it nice?”

“Yes, The dress code is formal. Whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll look very pretty.” 

Rose thanked her, flushing a bit. 

She’d brought two nice dresses, and he was trying to find a subtle way to encourage the lighter one without ruining the surprise. It would be a lot easier if the black one wasn’t one of his favorites. 

“Are you sure? It’s an evening thing…” she wondered aloud, still in the black dress. It stopped just above her knees, with sheer sleeves and a heart neckline. “You’re wearing black.” 

“Yes love, but I’m wearing black because that’s all I have.” He nonchalantly took a picture of her posing in the mirror. It was his favorite dress on her, after all.

She hummed, then tsked. “Men. Not enough colorful clothes.” 

Curly convinced Rose to wear the other dress, which was off-the-shoulder and a light, frosty blue. He’d suggested “shimmery eye stuff” and she was sold. It wasn’t a trick— hazel eyes looked really nice with it. Her hair didn’t take too long, as it was just above her shoulders. 

In a moment of quick thinking, he’d also suggested using her sister’s hair clip. Something borrowed that she just hadn’t given back yet; it also happened to be a few decades old. That was three for four. He could take care of the last one in a few days. It seemed more climactic to give her the wristband when he was leaving. 

It was a short walk to the restaurant, though that may have been because they weren’t going to the restaurant at all. Just a block away, which was still owned by the hotel company but Pony Express had no claim to. 

“Close your eyes.” Curly said quickly, as they neared the area. “Just trust me.”

“Wh—” 

“Or I’ll cover them myself.” He added. 

With a confused glance, Rose complied, closing them and holding her hand out. “Fine, but you’ll have to lead me there.” 

“Of course.” 

He held her hand and guided her slowly, trying to be mindful that she was in heels. As they neared the pavilion, he couldn’t help the nausea. This felt just as nerve-wracking as leaving the atmosphere for the first time almost ten years ago. 

“Okay… open.” 

Rose did as he said, blinking a few times to adjust. 

The pavilion had been decorated with string lights and flowers— possibly fake, but pretty nonetheless. The area already had plants growing their way around the guardrails— flowering bushes and vines, all strung with lights to match. There must’ve been a speaker somewhere, because there was music playing. And last, a table for two set in the corner, complete with a candle. 

Before she could speak, Curly’s nerves got the better of him. 

“Okay, before you say anything— just think about it. Look at the big picture, here.” He took a breath to calm down, but it was in vain. He just couldn’t stop talking— like he wouldn't have another chance to say everything if he didn't let it out right this minute. Words rushed out like water through a broken dam.

“Our life is basically… paused. I mean, it’s paused when I’m not there. It feels like that. So I thought… let’s do this now.” He stood in front of her, taking both of her hands. “When I get home, I want to already be married to you. I don’t want to worry about any delays in the course, or whether or not the right people can be there, or anything else when we finally sign that certificate.” 

He tried to slow his breathing, focusing on just holding her hands. He’d spent the past two days psyching himself up for this— since they’d gotten there, since they’d packed the car, since they went to sleep the night before the drive. 

“And—” Curly swallowed, “With what we save on this… we can use it for other things. Home improvements. Future… future plans.” he raised one of her hands and kissed her knuckles. 

“Oh, love…” Rose pulled her hand away and swept some hair away from his face, keeping her hand on his cheek. 

“I just thought… y’know, in the end it doesn’t matter. Big wedding or small. June or September. So…” He took another deep breath, feeling the sweet but sticky summer air that usually hung in gardens like this. 

“Surprise?” he gestured to the pavilion behind him. “Do you… do you like it? 

Rose was quiet, and for a moment Curly thought he’d made a horrible mistake— after all, she’d spent half a year on the original plans. 

She met his eyes, and hers were shiny. Hazel really did look good in every lighting. The first thing she said was, “Does this count as eloping?” 

He couldn’t help the nervous chuckle. “I… I guess?” 

“That’s romantic…” She smiled at the ground, cheeks rosie as her name.

“Is it?” Curly held both her hands again, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. “Then yes, that’s what we’re doing. I think that means it has to be a secret, though.” 

“A secret that we’re doing it, or a secret forever?” 

“Well, baby, I think that’s our choice.” He said fondly. “Wait— so you’ll do it?” 

“Was that even a question?” Rose blinked, tears finally falling and the shimmer on her eyelids catching the light. “I— yes, yes, absolutely, yes.”

The notary cleared his throat awkwardly. He had approached a few minutes ago and was trying very hard to blend in with the foliage, not wanting to spoil the couple’s moment. With him, he’d brought a camera and folder, presumably with the certificate. 

Rose seemed fretful for a moment, smiling through her tears. “Oh, wait I didn’t— I haven’t written vows yet!” 

“I haven’t either.” Curly admitted. “I kind of pulled this together last-minute…”

Rose snorted, “Very last minute! But… I love it.” She pulled him close and kissed him. “Now, let's get us a pen!”

They signed the certificate. Rosalie Curly’s script was blunt and neat, where Grant Curly’s was round and large. The notary was kind enough to take their picture a couple of times, even a few with them eating or dancing. He left after that, and Grant was free to give his new wife all of the affection he wanted without any awkward glances. 

They never ended up meeting his parents for dinner. That was fine, since they’d never expected either of them to show up in the first place.

Chapter Text

One Day Before Lift-Off 

Rosie chose not to tell Grant about what Jimmy did. Not yet. She couldn’t ruin the moment yet. She wanted to stay in their small bubble of happiness for as long as possible, and she knew Jimmy was a professional at popping those. Besides, she didn’t remember it all that well anyway.

Grant had noticed something was off, but she waved it away. Jimmy was in withdrawal right now, he was always more agitated. Maybe Jimmy was just like that when he was drunk. Maybe she’d just try not to serve alcohol when he came over for dinner in the future. Maybe he was just worried about Grant. Jimmy cared about Grant. She was worried about Grant, too. So maybe it was okay not to tell Grant just yet.

And maybe she was a little afraid of Jimmy now.

“So, am I going to see more of your crew today?” Rosie sat up in bed, holding the sheet up as coverage. She’d gone to bed in a shirt and boxers, but night-time activities required they be removed. It made the bruise on her arm less noticeable.

Grant hummed in confirmation while he shaved. He was already up and ready— she’d needed a minute. “Should see them downstairs for breakfast, I think. How’d you like them?”

“Anya was really nice. Honestly it makes me feel better about you being on the ship with her…” she twisted the sheet between her fingers as he came out of the bathroom. Truly, she’d like to stay alone in their room for a few more hours, but he needed to get himself on a schedule. It was too bad that she’d need to get out of bed to keep staring at him.

“Well that’s good. Wouldn’t want you losing sleep over nothing.” He leaned over the bed and planted a few kisses under her jaw, peeking under her sheet. She flushed and pushed him off a little.

“Stop, or I might pull you back down here.” Rosie plucked at his collar, smirking at him.

“Awh. That would be… bad?” He raised an eyebrow. He’d been super clingy ever since the night at the pavilion. Honeymooning. Honestly, she loved it, but they still needed to catch breakfast.

“Don’t tease me. Go down and make sure they know we’re alive.”

“Okay, okay.” He kissed her again, and pinched her waist. “We’ll be late if we don’t get going!”

Rosie pushed him away, laughing involuntarily. “Don’t do that!”

Once he’d left her alone, she grabbed some proper clothing from her bag and hurriedly got dressed. She tried to look as put together as she had yesterday. It was hard— happiness was actually a very chaotic feeling, and it was difficult to match that energy with anything other than her pajamas. 

Rosie made it downstairs and went to the breakfast line, grabbing a plate. Unfortunately, the chaotic, happy feeling was not to last. Jimmy had materialized beside her, and she felt it wither away. Sour. 

“Rosie.” Jimmy nodded at her. “He already got you breakfast. Table’s in the corner.” He moved past her to join the line, slightly pushing her out of it. His tone was polite and his face was neutral, as if he hadn’t the slightest memory of yesterday evening. 

“Oh. Thanks.” Rosie backed away, walking into a table. Something felt… off.  

She wasn’t sure why she felt that. It was an odd, panicky feeling, growing on her body like stalagmites in a damp cave. Or maybe her shoulders had just gone up out of instinct.

“Try not to run anyone over.” He raised an eyebrow at her and walked away. Rosie nodded, then turned back to find the table. That hard panic felt icy, prickly. Luckily, once she spotted Grant, she could also see the new intern, Daisuke, and Swansea’s wife sitting there too. It took her out of… whatever she was feeling.

“Rose!” her husband smiled, and the panic melted. “You remember Laverne?” he gestured to the middle aged woman sitting across from him. She had curly brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail, and a kind face that was like sunshine. Half-moon glasses sat on her nose.

“Yes, I do—  it's so nice to see you again!” Rosie grinned, troubles forgotten. She scooted in next to Curly. “I’m glad I could see you before lift-off, I heard you weren’t feeling well last night.” 

“Oh,” The older woman waved her hand, exasperated, “just carsick! Had to lay down.”

“And Daisuke, you met yesterday.” Curly settled, arm around her waist. His hand rested on her hip, fingers drumming a soft rhythm against the fabric of her jeans. It felt safe. 

Clingy, she thought fondly. 

“Yes, of course. Good morning Daisuke.”

“Hey!” the intern waved at her like an excited puppy, rings decorating his fingers. “Uh, I like your earrings.” 

“Thank you! I like yours.” She fidgeted with her earrings. They were three hearts linked together like a chain.

“Oh thanks— I just got a new helix!” Daisuke beamed at her, pointing to his ear. “After I get back it should be healed enough that I can switch it out with something cooler.” 

Not long after, the nurse approached them, looking a bit shy. Anya was quiet, but sweet. She reminded Rosie of an actress from a thriller movie she liked, but she wasn’t sure whether that comparison would make Anya feel more comfortable or not.

“Good morning Anya.” She offered the seat next to her, and Anya took it gratefully. “Sleep well?” Unlike the rest of the crewmates, Anya was at the hotel alone. She deserved a little more company. Maybe Rosie would make more of an effort when they returned. 

“Yes, the hotel’s nice.” She smiled, front teeth poking out a little. Very cute. The kind of smile that made you want to smile back. 

After breakfast, Pony Express had a mandated board game time. Something about team building. Anya was fantastic at them— she was beating Jimmy at Money-Polle by a landslide. 

“This is how the game works!” She held down a small silver figure of a horse. Held down, because Daisuke was trying to move it off her new property.

“Since when!?” Daisuke pleaded, his parents glancing at one another at his volume. They’d been more social last night. 

“Since always!” 

“No it’s not—” Jimmy started. He wasn’t really being scary-aggressive, just normal board-game-aggressive. He just liked winning. But he seemed to like Anya, so it didn’t worry Rosie that much. After all, even if Jimmy was scary, he wasn’t that kind of scary. If he was, last night would have… 

Stop thinking about it. It wasn’t that bad.

Swansea was not playing, but was instead looking through the directions. Curly was playing quietly, observing the other crewmates. He wasn’t… great at them, Rosie knew, but he preferred to quietly lose rather than go down dramatically.

The rest of the day was more team-building, and Rosie was free to spend time with the other families. It was all but tradition to keep in close contact with the family of other crewmates during long trips, and she hadn’t seen Laverne in months. 

When everyone cleared out, it didn’t take long for Rosie to pull Curly back up to their room. There was not a moment to waste, with lift-off in 22 hours. She wouldn’t usually fret when he was still on the ground, but it wasn’t really something she could control. 

He obliged her, but that was more to do with his own plans than Rosie’s convincing. His mind was clearly elsewhere, considering it was his last night on Earth. 

“Honey, I need to… um, I need to talk to you.” Rosie settled onto the pillows as he changed to pajamas. The bed was soft, she was sinking into it. She’d have to find a mattress like this at home. 

“About?” his smirk dropped. It almost made her smile— he could read her like a book. 

“Jimmy.” She twisted the corner of the pillow around her fingers. Nervous habit. 

“Did he say something?” Curly frowned, laying on his side on the bed. 

Rosie froze a little, fidgeting again. “It’s just… I don’t know. There’s something… off. Something wrong.” she shrugged. He pulled her close, and that frozen feeling melted again, just like at breakfast. Safe. Clingy.

“He’s just pouting because I didn’t tell him my plans.” Curly played with her hair. He knew how to help her relax. She’d miss that. “But that’s the point of eloping, isn’t it?”

Night Before Lift-Off

They were trying to be quiet. They were failing. They’d been quiet the past few nights, he assumed, but the night before lift-off was as good a time as any to shake the headboard.

Jimmy didn’t even mind hearing Rosie, or the bed thumping— he could pretend she was alone, or maybe just some annoying couple who happened to be his neighbor tonight. If he closed his eyes, he could’ve gotten into it too. But Curly was harder to ignore, and made that impossible. He practically chanted that woman’s name like a prayer.

“Rose, Rosie— Ro-ose…” Curly.

“Fuck, Rosalie…” Curly again.

“Don’t stop…” Rosie.

“Rosie, Rosie, Rosie—” Curly.

“Please, ple-ase—” Rosie again. 

Jimmy could only grumble and block it out with pillows. He wasn’t too excited to be stuck in space for a year, with shitty food and idiot crewmates, but he was looking forward to a good, long time of not seeing “Rosie Curly” again. He could hope Curly wouldn’t talk about her much either, but Jimmy knew that would be pushing it. 

Rosie was… nice enough. But not good enough for Curly. That was just a fact. Grant Curly far exceeded her league. He was dating down. The only problem was that Curly didn’t seem to realize it. He was a captain. She was…

Huh.

Well, actually, Jimmy couldn’t recall what she did for work. All the more reason that she was below Curly’s league. Curly was a good man. Smart, confident, always a leader. He was always the golden boy. Why would he want a girl made of clay and pyrite?  

She was far too friendly to Jim, too. She had a partner, there was no reason for her to smile at him, or ask how he was doing, or anything else. He’d respond, of course, but it felt like she was betraying Curly. 

Her clothes didn’t help. When Rosie wasn’t wearing Curly’s clothes (stolen, of course) she was always in something form-fitting. Like she couldn’t help showing off. Tight tops and skinny jeans and small sweaters. Shirts that accentuated a chest she didn’t have. And always with the big earrings— she was like a peacock looking to flaunt her feathers.

She’d probably go out to whatever salon would let her spend the most and pretty herself up on his best friend’s salary. She’d go and find someone else to fill her bed while Curly was gone. Any girl who looked like that had no intentions of being faithful. 

Just the thought of it made Jim’s blood boil. Curly would stay with her too, he was too deep into it. He couldn’t see what a leech she really was. The ring itself was a money-suck— and Jimmy knew that, because he’d watched Curly buy it. 

Moonstone. He mentally rolled his eyes. Of course she would want a “special” ring. For how expensive it was, her red nail polish made it look really cheap. But he couldn’t deny that it had been a perfect fit; Curly knew exactly what he wanted for her. He’d been so sure. And he was right. The ring was pretty and useless, just like Rosalie herself. 

Nicole had been adamant that he leave them be during the trip over, insisting on driving him instead. She said the happy couple would want to be alone as much as possible. But if they were going to go at like like rabbits for hours on the other side of the wall every night, he wasn’t sure they needed to be alone so often. Especially if Curly actually wanted kids. Wouldn’t he want someone less… obnoxious?

Jimmy scoffed and rolled over at the thought. There were better choices. And why would he want to be trapped by her for the rest of his life, anyway? Trapped by a house, a dog, a baby, end of story? 

At least he’d managed to teach Rosie a lesson. No one would be taking Curly away. Curly wouldn’t let her do that. And even if they did have a house, or a dog, or even a little brat with his father’s eyes and his mother’s hair, Jimmy wouldn’t let that push him away. Curly needed him. Who else would be the voice of reason to his optimism? 

Rosie was like a parasite, slowly creeping into everything Curly was. He’d… changed when he met her, and now everything that was just him was now them. He said “we” instead of “I,” like there was no separation. She was always in his head, like a tumor. 

Even outside of Curly’s head, it was inescapable. Rosie’s stuff was everywhere in his house. She lived there, but still. Such a mess. Her stuff even made it onto the trips with him. She was never far away, and always had something to open her mouth about. And Curly liked that for some reason.

Every other time they tried to make plans, it was always I have to ask Rose, or sorry it’s her mom’s birthday, or sorry it’s date night. So yes. Jimmy was looking forward to this trip. He could hardly wait to leave the atmosphere. A full year without the female persuasion. Just guys. There was Anya, but how much of a persuasion was that? 

When they got back, Curly would be normal again.

Chapter Text

Three Months After Lift-Off

The captain was irritable today, and had been for about a week. Everyone knew this, and everyone knew why, but there wasn’t much they could do about it. 

“And you’re sure it isn’t in one of your uniform pockets…? Maybe your bed?” Anya asked softly, standing nearby as Captain Curly searched the couch. Daisuke had been sitting in one of the chairs and playing his gameboy.

“It’s not, I stripped it looking.” He sounded defeated. Sad. Curly had lost his wedding ring somewhere on the ship, and had been doing all but tearing the ship apart in hopes of finding it. Daisuke got up to help them.   

The ship was awesome, but a lot of the floors were made of grate, and if anything fell through those… well, might as well just get a new one. That was one of the first things Swansea told him on the ship— he’d been adjusting his earrings.

“Don’t do that while you’re working!” the old man had barked.

“Sorry, teach,” Daisuke put his hand up, and genuinely meant it. “Somethin’s up, it hurts.” 

He’d relaxed (if you could call it that, all that changed was the shade of red on his face). “If you gotta do that, step off the area. Those things will fall off easy and I won’t be goin’ down to get them. I don’t want to see you messin’ with them for no reason!” 

So, personally, Daisuke thought the ring was a goner. And sure, he felt bad, but Captain’s wife probably wouldn’t be too angry. It wasn’t like he could get it back or anything. 

Then today came, and Daisuke hadn’t gone to his cabin at all. He’d genuinely forgotten to, and passed out on the couch with his game still in his hands. 

The first one in the lounge that day (aside from Daisuke himself) was Jimmy. Jimmy didn’t notice him there, and sat at the head of the table with his hands on the top. Jimmy didn’t like making the food, and often left it to anyone else. Usually he told Anya or Daisuke to do it, it was really annoying. 

There was a metallic sound. That wasn’t odd, it was a spaceship after all, but… there wasn’t much that made that sound in the lounge, at least not that Jimmy would be messing with. He didn’t cook, and the coffee machine didn’t sound like that. 

Daisuke was still tired, and opened his eyes only a little bit. The bright daytime screen was horrible on the eyes first thing in the morning. But he didn’t need to open very wide to see what Jimmy was doing.

He was slouching, legs all the way under the table. He wore a scowl under his messy scruff (he should really shave, he looked like a creepy janitor) and was staring at his hands on top of the table. The metallic noise came from Jimmy’s hands, where a small, silver object was spinning like a coin.

Daisuke was kind of an idiot, but he wasn’t stupid.

Ok, maybe that didn’t make sense, but it was true. He could notice picture-book level storytelling, at the very least. Jimmy had Curly’s ring. This did not make sense, but that was what was in front of him. 

Daisuke shifted, and Jimmy immediately snatched the ring off the table and into his pocket. He approached the couch. Daisuke tried to look like he was still asleep. He must’ve succeeded, because Jimmy did not bother him. 

Curly entered next, and Daisuke was able to peek. He still looked down, taking the seat next to Jimmy’s and resting his head on one of his hands. Jimmy patted his shoulder and said something quiet. 

After a while, Daisuke pretended to wake up. He pretended he knew nothing, and just went about his business for the rest of the day.

Daisuke was up late that night, though he remembered to go to his cabin. The doors were thin, though. So when there was an emergency steering issue around one in the morning, Daisuke could hear when Jimmy slammed his shut and high-tailed it to the cockpit. There were no locks on the sleeping quarters…  

The next morning, Jimmy didn’t look any different, and Curly still looked bummed out. Daisuke waited until they were in separate areas before giving Swansea the slip and sneaking off to the cockpit.

The door was open when he got there, and Curly was already in there like Daisuke knew he’d be.

“Heyyyy, Cap’?” He leaned against the doorframe, patting his pocket. 

“Yeah kiddo, what is it?” the captain asked, sounding authoritative despite the jittery energy he was giving off. He was tapping his fingers along the arm of his chair. Even when the captain was irritable, he was still pretty nice to Daisuke. 

Daisuke walked into the cockpit, glancing around at all the controls. He dug in his pocket and placed the ring on the steering panel. “I, uh, found this.” 

The captain sat up, smiling instantly. “You found it! Thanks, kid!” He slipped it back on and turned his chair towards Daisuke. “Where did you find it?” 

Daisuke shrugged. Was there a point in causing drama? 

“Near the sleeping cabins.”  

Three Months

Today was supposed to be her wedding day. Obviously, it wasn’t, that had already happened. But it still felt a little odd not to do anything about it. It was circled and noted on every calendar she had— phone, computer, actual paper. She wasn’t alone today, though. That was nice.

Rosie had managed to find a good listing, and spent the next month packing up their house and planning a move. They’d already been looking, so she didn’t feel too bad about doing this while he was gone. It gave her something to do. A project. 

By a miracle, the confirmation of continuing their lease hadn’t come out yet, and she was able to cancel it for the following year. Thank goodness, because she didn’t want to pay the fee for breaking the lease. 

Of course, she didn’t really have the means to move it all herself, so she called up a few of Grant’s friends to help her out. Gym buddies— they never minded lifting a few things. 

“Kind of sudden, isn’t it?” Jared asked, shooing her away from a box. He saw Grant on Tuesdays and Thursdays— leg days. He was a little shorter than Grant, but most people were.

Rosie surrendered the tape dispenser and stepped away from the box, shrugging. 

“Yeah, well, I’m thinking it’ll be nice to have everything ready when he gets back. Kind of like a surprise for him. I mean, there's only one bedroom in here anyway, we’d need to move eventually.” She fidgeted with her shirt. She wasn't showing enough yet to comfortably rest her arm there. 

“Makes sense. He’s gonna flip.” 

“Flip, sure, but he’ll like it. I know he will.” 

It wasn’t very big, but it was bigger than their rental. A couple of bedrooms, a small basement, one car garage, and a yard. Absolutely perfect. Sure, the plumbing and heating needed fixing up, but you couldn’t get a completely perfect house at the price she’d gotten it. And she had about twenty-seven weeks to do most of that. 

“You know better than me, I guess.” Jared took the box and carried it out. That was almost all of them. In the next hour she would be in the new place. If she could, she’d start hanging things up that night. The furniture and bed had been moved in the days earlier, and most of the work lied in filling the cabinets, drawers, and walls. 

Rosie packed her overnight bag and the few remaining boxes into her car— as much as the men would let her. Donny and Mike (arm days) practically stole them from her hands. 

“You know your husband would chew us out if we let you carry anything in your condition.”

“Wha-” She huffed and crossed her arms. It’s not like she had much weight on her yet, it was perfectly safe. “I may not lift but I’m not going to throw my back out by carrying my own clothes.”

“You called us to help!” he shifted the box between his arms as if it weighed nothing, while Mike packed the trunk. “Let us do the helping. Get in the car.” Donny smiled at her despite the firm tone. She didn’t have much of a choice but to do as he asked, since those were the last boxes. 

Once the boxes had been fully moved into the house, Rosie repaid them with food they could take home to their girlfriends (so long as she got the containers back). She’d been clear on wanting to unpack the rest on her own, since they’d been kind enough to dedicate several hours to her moving.

“Drive safe! Thanks guys!” She waved from the porch, watching them get into their cars. Once they’d all left the street, she closed the door behind her, a giddy feeling settling in her stomach. There was also a craving for chinese food. So she ordered that first. 

The evening was quiet, save for the television. She’d started going through kids shows, figuring out which ones she’d want for the little human to watch. Some kids shows were pure ear torture obviously made by people who hated parents (or anyone with a working auditory system). She crossed those off immediately. It was an investment in her and Grant's own sanity. 

Through all her unpacking, she eventually reached the hanging bags— all clothes. But the last one in the box made her eyes mist a little. A wedding dress she never got to wear. 

Rosie had loved her wedding— it was special, and romantic, and she hadn’t had to worry about anyone but them. There was no stress over pollen allergies or who was sitting where or wine glasses on stand-by in case someone showed up in the wrong color. Her wedding was perfect because Grant had made it so. 

But she was a little bummed that she never got to wear her dress. 

It was non-traditional; short. Not too short, but around the calf. So she could dance, and the swishy skirt would raise up when she spun around. Not much decoration other than some sewn beads near the waist. Sleeveless, with a plunging neckline— the only time she’d been happy for a smaller chest. Curly never got to see it. Tradition, you know. 

By the time Curly got back, it was likely Rosie wouldn’t be able to fit into that dress. That bummed her out more. It wouldn’t have been the dress he chose— he was a very big fan of her in a sweetheart neckline— but she knew he’d probably like it. Such a shame…

This line of thought resulted in her, of course, putting on the dress. 

With satisfaction, she realized it still fit. Barely, but it fit. A little tight. But it made that giddy feeling come back full-force, and she hunted for the camera. If Grant couldn’t see her in the dress when he got back, then at least she could hand him pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. 

After the mini photo spree, Rosie went back to work. She did not take the dress off— on the contrary, she just hung up their pictures and put away their clothes while wearing her most expensive outfit. It was the most pricy thing she owned besides the house itself— she had to wear it at least once. 

She didn’t take it off until it was time to rest, and even then she was hesitant. The voice in her head was immature, but genuine. She always loved pretty dresses. 

It’s so pretty, I don’t want to take it off! 

Someday she could wear it again, she could promise that to herself. But she wouldn’t beat herself up about it if she couldn’t. Grant would love her anyway. Besides, he would come home to much more shocking things than weight gain. Such as the entirely new human that she’d be greeting him with. 

In bed, she set up the pillows behind herself, still thinking about Grant and the baby. The setup made her feel like she was being snuggled— she felt a little pathetic, but it was the only way she could drift off. 

Rosie was sure he’d wanted kids… “future plans,” he’d said. Saving money for future plans. What else would that mean? And he was so sweet with kids— her niece and nephew adored him, and in Rosie’s opinion he was about eighty-five-percent more attractive when he was being a good uncle. That was feral territory.  

So, yes. She was sure he’d be happy about it, if upset at missing out on the process. But they could have more, and he could be there for those. Depending on how awful birth was they could have as many as he wanted. 

Rosie had to tell her inner voice to chill out. Hormones. They were making her delusional.

Chapter Text

Two Days Before Lift-Off

Rosie woke up that morning and wondered if she’d been dreaming. Or, if she was possibly still dreaming, because she’d woken up to soft kisses and laced fingers and sweet, dirty words. After all, it was the day after their wedding. They’d been too tired the night before.

Oh, I’m going to miss you.  

They left their hotel room around noon, satisfied enough with their alone time to brave seeing other people. Grant’s hand never left hers, intertwined and proudly wearing a new silver band around his finger. He was positively beaming. 

Jimmy looked confused, frowning as his eyes zeroed in on Curly’s hand. He seemed to quickly recover, smiling at him and completely ignoring Rosie. 

“What’s with that?” he nodded at their hands, woven together like braided rope.

Curly brightened at the question, blind to Jimmy’s odd behavior. He was like an excited puppy. He whispered, clearly just so he wouldn't shout. “We got married! Last night. I called in a notary— the hotel helped me out.”

Jimmy froze for just a second, a blank look crossing his face before he let a relaxed smile grow there. 

“Really?” He sounded happy, but his teeth were gritted. Curly did not notice. “That’s great, where did you get that idea?” 

“I was considering it when we got here, I just wasn't sure if I’d go through with it or not. Then we had that talk the other day and I…” He glanced back at her, and Rosie could’ve melted under his puppy-dog eyes. “I just didn’t want to wait anymore.” 

“Huh.” was all Jimmy said, finally looking at Rosie. Something about his gaze made her feel like paper under a microscope left in the sun— like he was trying to burn a hole through her face. “Well. Congratulations. Too bad the honeymoon will have to wait. Come on, the rest of the crew is here.” 

Just as he’d said, the rest of the crew was there, waiting for their captain. Rosie couldn’t help the pride. Sure, Curly should have moved on from this job a long time ago. That didn’t mean she wasn’t proud of him for doing as well as he did.

“Hey crew!” He greeted them warmly, beaming like a little sun. He attracted positivity like a magnet— everyone else in the room had smiled in response. Except Swansea, of course;  he was much more of a nodding as hello type of old guy. 

Curly let go of her hand to speak with him first— though not without a little puppy-eyed regret. He had people to talk to— she would just have to endure a few minutes without him right next to her. Oh, the tragedy. At least this time there was another woman in the room— so, not just a boys club. 

She approached a young woman, who she presumed to be the nurse. Not because she was a woman, but because the only other new person looked like he was straight out of high school. He was standing with his parents and looking around like it was career day. 

“Hi!” she smiled and gave a small wave. There had to be less awkward ways to approach someone, she just couldn’t think of the right way to do it. “I’m Rosie, Grant’s— I mean, I’m married to your captain. It’s nice to meet you. I know he’s excited to have you on the team.”  

“Nice to meet you. I’m Anya. Nurse Anya.” The woman held up her badge somewhat nervously. She had large black eyes and dark hair to match, and wore a simple tan sweater and jeans. Her smile was sweet. “I’m excited to be working with your husband, his record is nearly spotless!”  

Rosie started to answer, pride growing in her chest once again. She was interrupted by the fifth and final person from the voyage, who had to be the intern. He’d left his parents to join their talk, clearly eager to socialize.

“I’m Daisuke!” He said, seeming to bounce in place. It was endearing. His eyes were trained on her earrings— he had several of his own, so Rosie assumed he just liked them. “I’ve heard a lot about the Cap— he seems really cool. And his arms are like, huge.” 

Rosie laughed. “He’s a big dork, really. But yes they are pretty big.” 

They talked about school and jobs and life. Anya had been through med school several times, which had initially scared Rosie, but she seemed to be dedicated student who just had the worst luck with exams. From harsh weather to actual family emergencies, it seemed fate never wanted her to finish that degree. Rosie couldn’t judge her medical skills just because a couple of storms kept her from finishing school a few times.

Daisuke was a few years off high school. He had a girlfriend who was in college to become a surgeon. They’d met at baseball camp— the whole thing sounded very sweet. Maybe his girlfriend would have her degree by the time he landed.

When she finally had a minute, Rosie talked to Swansea. He was just as grumpy as always. She didn’t have much to say to the old man, but she was rather fond of his wife— Laverne had the best stories. But Rosie hadn't seen her around.

“Ah, motion sickness. Not feelin’ well.” he said gruffly. Swansea was one of those old guys that didn’t seem to care much about anything, but she knew he was secretly an alright husband. Grant had mentioned it once— even though he was unconcerned with leaving his family for months on end, he would routinely go to their houses just to fix something and use it as an excuse to bring them food. 

That night was a company sponsored dinner event. Pony Express only did this for the super long trips, which were all about nine months or more. Grant had been on a nine month trip only once since they’d been dating, and it was…honestly terrible, so, Pony Express practically owed them a dinner party.

Getting ready together was frankly one of her favorite parts of evenings out, since they could regroup and talk before seeing people. Plus she was happy to wear her other dress. She’d only brought two as a precaution, but this one was a fan favorite. Grant loved the neckline, and Rosie loved the sleeves. 

“Hey baby?” Rosie asked, rooting around for her jewelry in her suitcase. 

“Yeah?” He answered from the bathroom. He always had a little trouble with his tie.

“Why are they still sending you out in the Tulpar?” She fastened her dangly silver earrings— they matched her ring. She joined him in the bathroom, goodness knows he wasn’t going to fix that tie by himself. Good thing there was no need for formal dress on the ship. 

“What do you mean?” Grant folded his tie for what had to be the third time, fumbling it again. He would keep going for as long as it took.

“Well, I spoke with Swansea for a couple of minutes— he said something about the cryo-pods.” She pulled him to face her and fixed it for him. “There are five of you.” she said, matter-of-fact. “Only four pods on the Tulpar…” 

Grant quirked an eyebrow. “What, you think we’ll need them?”

“Well…” Rosie frowned at his confusion. “Obviously, if something happens, you kind of need those.”

He shrugged it off. “Yeah, I know. But, if we ever actually get into a situation like that, I wouldn’t be using the pod anyway.” 

“What?” she asked incredulously. “What do you mean?” 

Grant continued, seeming to not notice the problem. Maybe he was pretending— he could be dumb, but not that dumb. “Everyone else is going in there first. I’m the captain. I’ll be doing everything I can to protect the rest of my crew.” He kissed the top of her head. 

“And of course, get home to you.”  

Luckily, her worry had dissipated by dinner. Whether that was from the atmosphere or otherwise, she wasn’t sure. It was likely due to the champagne that the intern’s parents had bought for them— seemed he really needed this recommendation. It worked nonetheless. 

Pony Express would only pay a certain amount for one company dinner party before the trip, and everyone took advantage of this. Good meals and drinks all around— aside from Daisuke, who was apparently just a year underage, and Swansea, who was fifteen sober. 

Given they’d eloped, there wasn’t much of a reception party; but this felt like one. Rosie was a bit of a lightweight— this was fine, because she knew Curly was too. He was far too health conscious to get overly drunk more than a couple times a year. 

After a glass each, she’d spent the time admiring him in a suit. Even if she’d seen him mess up the tie five or six times. He seemed to be doing the same, eyes glued to the sweetheart neckline and her collarbone. Jimmy had nudged him about four times and Curly hadn’t even noticed. 

Somewhere between Daisuke’s second dessert and Curly’s third flute of champagne, Rosie began to feel a bit lightheaded. In the back of her mind, she thought her great grandparents would be ashamed of her now, getting drunk so fast. She left the table. 

Once she reached the small hallway to the restroom, Rosie did a little spin. She was in such a good mood, it felt like she’d lift off the ground and float all the way to space and to whatever planet they were going to. The alcohol might have been part of that feeling. 

There was a mirror at the end of the hallway, and she stopped to make sure her hair was in place. She’d spent too long wrangling it today to let it look anything less than perfect. In the corner of her eye, something moved. 

“Did you get a new ring?”

She turned quickly. “Jimmy! You startled me…” she chuckled, feeling giggly even when faced with his unreadable frown. 

“Let me see. He got a new ring. Did you?” he reached her in a few strides, catching her left wrist and holding it up. She had— just a small silver band, the same metal as her engagement ring. 

“Yes.” Rosie smiled warmly, looking at it too. She felt silly and slow, drunk on the happiness just as much as the alcohol. “I guess he just brought them in his suitcase.” 

“Must have.” Jimmy was still holding her wrist, though he was no longer looking at the ring. His grip was getting a little tight, though. 

“Jimmy, that- that hurts. ” she pulled away from him, rubbing her wrist. There was an odd, wiry feeling growing in the middle of her chest. 

“I barely touched you.” He said dismissively. “I bet you tricked him into it.”

“What?” 

“You needed to get married before he left. You needed to get married, so that if he dies, you get the money.” Jimmy stated bluntly. 

The wire in her chest popped the happy bubble, and her mood deflated. She could only frown at him. “Getting married was surprise. How could you think that? We’ve been together for like... four years.” 

Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, trust me, your disgusting goo-goo eyes aren't fooling anyone. ”

The wiry feeling got spiky, prickly with fear. It dissolved into nauseous panic, settling in her organs like expired medication. The music in the hotel restaurant suddenly felt too loud. She couldn’t hear any of the other dinner guests. 

Before she could say anything back, she’d been spun around, and her head was aching. She felt the cold mirror on her forehead and cheek, Jimmy’s hot breath ghosting against her neck. He had her wrist pinned up. In the mirror she could see his expression— he looked disgusted, like he was holding down a sewer rat.

“Don’t play dumb with me. I know your game.” He seethed. His other hand was on her waist— pinching too tight. But if that was where his other hand was, it meant her arm was free. 

“Get away from me—” Rosie tried to push him off, but she felt slow. He grabbed her other arm and pressed it to her back, his bitten nails still sharp in their own way. She was still light-headed, and the nausea only got worse. 

“You think you can just trap my friend? A ring, a house, a baby? ” Jimmy hissed in her ear. Rosie shrank, disoriented. This was the wrong thing to do— his face twisted, and he knocked her head against the mirror again. This time, she saw stars. 

“I won’t let you do this to him. He wouldn’t have kept something like this from me.” he said, sounding assured. Jimmy moved away from her, still gripping her arm. “I’m not going to let you get away with this.” He started towards the table, yanking her along— heels had been a mistake, evidently.

Finally free enough to think clearly, she grabbed him with her other hand and dug her nails into his wrist. They were long and red, and she knew he thought they were tacky. She tossed his hand away. 

“What the hell has gotten into you?!” Rosie snapped at him. Her face burned from anger and the lasting effects of fear.

Jimmy stared at her, bristling and rubbing his wrist. His eyes were strange and dark. For a moment, she was worried he’d come closer again. He was between her and the rest of the restaurant. To avoid having to walk past him, she turned away and ducked into the bathroom instead. 

She couldn’t decide what was more terrifying— the fact she hadn’t seen it coming, or the fact it still felt like something he’d do. It still felt like Jimmy.

When Rosie finally emerged, he’d stalked away. She looked back into the hallway mirrors. There was a smudge left on the mirror from her cheek, and a small red speck from her lipstick. She fixed her face, then wiped the mirror. Unfortunately, she was still drunk. She just wouldn’t leave the group again.

Later that night, all Rosie could think about was going back to their room. Being alone with Grant would fix whatever yucky feelings she had. He was still all warm and snuggly too, and that alone made her feel safe. He’d been so sweet through the rest of the evening that it almost made her forget the yucky feelings entirely.

After he’d showered and changed, Rosie grabbed her pajamas and headed to the bathroom. A shower would feel good, a shower would fix it. Unfortunately, he’d noticed her mood before she could do that. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked from the bed, looking concerned.

“It’s nothing.” Rosie tried to assure him before closing the door. 

Something about her tone seemed to sober him. “Hey. Stop it.” Grant followed her, leaning against the door frame. “What happened?” 

“It’s nothing.” She repeated, waiting for him to leave. She had no idea if her arms had bruises, and the sleeves were covering them if they did. “It’s just Jimmy being Jimmy.” 

“What? What does that mean?” Grant pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll talk to him.”

Rosie took the phone from his hands and snapped. “It’s nothing. Don’t. He just gets a little rowdy with some alcohol in him. You know that.” She sighed. “I don’t want to deal with a fight right now, we only have these few days…” 

“Fight?” He frowned at her. “I’m not trying to fight with you, I just want to know what’s wrong." Grant’s eyes were soft, and she felt bad for snapping. She frowned back at him, guilty. 

“Sorry, honey. Everything is fine.” Rosie gave his phone back, trying to think of something. Never did she think of actually telling him what had happened. “He just— I think he’s frustrated, I think he was really looking forward to being your best man.” 

“Did he say something?” Grant furrowed his brow. Rosie took a breath and pulled him over, pecking him on the cheek.

“You’re sweet. But I don’t want to talk about this right now. I’ll tell you later. Right now, I want to get clean and get in bed.” She tried to give him a reassuring smile. 

“...Okay.” 

The shower did help. The bruises she found were faint. After climbing into bed, she felt arms around her, but she knew they meant no harm. Grant pulled her close, tucking her into himself. Keeping her safe from whatever had upset her. They fit like puzzle pieces.

They fell asleep like that for a couple of hours, to sleep off the champagne.

Chapter Text

Hi, it's Cupid!

We've reached around the one-year anniversary of Mouthwashing, and it has REIGNITED my passion for the game. I cannot BELIEVE I left y'all with THAT chapter (feb 5th 2025) being the last you saw of me so far. I have the next one about half-written, it is much less scary. I will warn you though, there's a Jimmy pov.

I think I started having trouble because I started getting very perfectionist-y and the goal of this fic was for me to try and NOT do that, so I'm going to try that again. I want you to know this is not abandoned. I, in fact, prepared sequels and aus and everything, and I love Rosie so very much. (Im gonna steal her from her husband while he's gone on the Tulpar, trust)

My life has been... hectic, honestly, so I think Mouthwashing fell to the sidelines. Currently I'm in the midst of a creepypasta hyper fixation, which is not deterred by Mouthwashing and so I'm going to try uploading again. Since my last upload, I graduated college with my bachelors, turned 22, and started grad school going for my masters. Busy busy busy

If you wanna keep up with me my main Tumblr blogs are cupidthewriter and cupidlikesspookythings <33333 I'm on there ALL the time and my DMs are OPEN! I'm doing drawtober right now so I'm also on instagram under cupidthewriter as well. I have some older Mouthwashing content there too if you scroll my reels.

forgive meeeeeeeee <3 <3 <3 <3

PS. I am NOT changing curly's name from Grant to oRioN cArLinG thats not happening not in MY HOUSE