Chapter Text
Ryland Grace pushed away from his desk in his cramped, partitioned lab space on Stratt’s Vat. He stood and leaned backwards, groaning as he pressed his hands against his aching back. He had been neglecting his exercises lately in favor of long hours in the lab. He knew it wasn’t the greatest idea, but the lab work was so engrossing.
It had been hard giving up his life as stuntman Colt Seavers, but his broken back had given him no choice in the matter. Everyday he regretted his miscalculation that had caused the accident, but his work with the Petrova Taskforce and on the Hail Mary was not only important, but fulfilling.
Grace yawned, readjusting his hanging glasses onto his ear as he leaned forward, looking at his laptop. His current experiment wouldn’t have results for several hours. He sighed, glancing at his watch. 2:38am glowed ominously at him.
Rubbing the dull ache in his back once more, he debated grabbing some more coffee as he stretched. Grace sighed before reaching out and slowly closing the laptop. There was nothing more he could do tonight, and besides, he didn’t want Carl to come hunt him down and drag him to his bunk if he pulled another all-nighter. He had been lectured enough about overworking and the detrimental effects it could have on his health for the last month.
As Grave trudged tiredly down the narrow corridors of the aircraft carrier that lead to the small bunk room he had been assigned, his phone in his pocket buzzed. He frowned as he fished it out of his cardigan’s pocket. Who would be calling him at this time of night? Pretty much everyone on the project stuck to emails unless it was urgent. Or Dimitri trying to cajole more Astrophage samples out of him.
He glanced at the number on the phone’s screen. It was familiar in a way that twinged his back, but he couldn’t place it. It wasn’t someone on the project. He shrugged before pressing the accept button. Stratt would probably yell at him about operational security later and not taking calls from unknown numbers.
“Hello?” Grace said, stepping into his bunk room, the door creaking as he closed it behind him.
“Colt!” Gail’s familiar voice rang out. “It’s Gail! Your favorite producer!”
Grace pushed his glasses up and pinched the bridge of his nose. He should have listened to his inner Stratt. Her instincts were always better than his. “How’d you get this number?”
Gail Meyer was one of Hollywood’s most successful producers. He had met her years ago while doing stuntwork to put himself through college. If it hadn't been for her, he doubted he ever would have been able to graduate, let alone get his doctorate. Unfortunately, next to Stratt, she was also the most controlling, forceful person he knew. Grace never, ever wanted to see Gail and Stratt in the same room together. He just knew it would be like an immovable object meeting an unstoppable force. Nothing would survive that encounter, not even him.
“I heard you are working as a middle school science teacher now,” Gail said, ignoring his question. “Which is just… great. Just great. You always were so good with the little kiddies.”
“What do you want Gail?” Grace said, before she could blather on and find some way to insult his teaching career. He had loved teaching and missed it fiercely. Out of everything that had gone wrong in his life, from his accident to his disastrous UNESCO conference, he didn’t regret teaching. He loved it just as much as he had loved stuntwork.
“I know things haven’t been easy for you since the incident,” Gail started.
Grace sighed, taking off his glasses as he sank down onto his cot. He didn’t like where this was going. “Look Gail, it has been a long day, as great as it is to hear from you—“
“Tom has put me in a real situation here Colt,” Gail cut in. “I just need a little bit of help from an old friend.”
“No Gail. I am retired,” Grace stated firmly, he could already see where this was heading. He ran a hand down his face, exhaustion hitting him even harder as he tried to shake off the memories that this conversation was dredging up from where he had forcefully buried them. “After the mistake I made, you don’t want me within ten feet of your set.”
“It was an accident, Colt. Everyone knows that,” Gail said. “You are the best stuntman I have ever worked with in my life. Which is why you are getting on a plane for me tomorrow and coming to Sydney.”
“I am not getting on a plane Gail,” Grace said, stretching out on his bed. Even if he wanted to, and he didn’t, getting to Sydney would involve convincing Stratt that her lead Astrophage scientist needed a few days to go play with cars and smash through glass. He had put that life behind him. He had made a colossal miscalculation with his rig and he couldn’t put himself through that again. Not even for Gail. It was better that stuntman Colt Seavers faded into obscurity. “The work I am doing right now is important. I am not going to drop everything to go play stuntman in Australia because Tom has caused another situation."
“It’s just middle schoolers Colt,” Gail said, dismissably. “Come on, it’s gonna be like old times. I know you’ve missed it.”
“Good bye, Gail,” Grace said, starting to pull the phone from his ear. That was what he was afraid of. He had finally settled into routine on the Vat. Despite the apocalyptic reason for being there, he loved all the science and the far more brilliant people he worked with. But, having to leave his stuntwork behind had ripped a jagged hole in his soul that had never recovered.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Gail yelled, halting his hand. “Hold on. Did I tell you that the director asked for you specifically?”
“Sorry to disappoint, but as I said, I am retired," Grace sighed. “Good bye Gail.”
“It’s Jody,” Gail said, breaking through his exhaustion like a battering ram. “I am giving her her big break.”
Grace shot up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His mind raced, Jody’s smile flashing through his mind. He took back everything. His greatest mistake had been letting her go. “Send me the details and I will see what I can do.”
“I knew you would come through!” Gail said, sounding very pleased. “I will have a plane booked for you for first thing tomorrow at LAX. You don’t have to worry about the details.”
Grace winced. He was currently in the middle of the ocean. This whole trip was a longshot as it was and going back to LA to catch a flight wasn’t an option. Besides, Stratt would never let him get on a public plane. He just hoped he could talk his way out of taking Carl with him this time. She had practically glued Carl to Grace’s hip whenever he was dragged off the ship and Grace had worked hard to keep his life as a former stuntman buried and hidden from the gossip mill that was the Vat. “Gail, I am not in California right now and I still need to clear this with my boss. Send me the details and I'll handle things on my end.”
Gail was silent for a few seconds, obviously not used to Grace taking control of anything from her. Gail was a micromanager and had always handled all of the details for the crew of the various films he had worked on. She always just pointed Grace at a time and location and expected him to be where she wanted, when she wanted. Not unlike Stratt, Grace realized. How did he always seem to end up working for micromanaging dictators?
“Well, then, where are you?” Gail said, clearing her throat. “I can get you tickets from anywhere, no problem whatsoever.”
“No, it’s complicated. I will handle the flight,” Grace sighed. Gail might be able to pull all kinds of strings, but there was no way she could arrange pickup from a Chinese aircraft carrier in the middle of the ocean. “Just get the hotel setup for me and I will speak with you tomorrow, ok?” he added, as a compromise. Gail needed her fingers in everything.
“Colt,” Gail started.
“Good bye Gail,” Grace said as he quickly hung up the phone. He leaned back, letting his head hit the wall with a slight thud. What was he getting himself into this time?
“Knock, knock,” Grace said, leaning in through the open doorway.
“Still not good at jokes,” Stratt responded, suppressing a smile as she glanced up at Grace. He looked tired, as he always did these days. The stubborn man seemed incapable of adhering to a sustainable schedule. She had lost count of the number of times Carl had had to drag Grace out of his lab in the past week alone. Working on the project was a marathon, not a sprint. It was getting to the point that she had been contemplating forcing him off the ship and away from the lab for some R&R just so he could get some much needed rest.
Grace laughed, stepping into the room. “You have a minute?” He asked, sounding a bit hesitant. While Grace wasn’t the most confident person Stratt had ever worked with, the past year or so had brought him out of his shell. As her second in command, he had proven time and again that he was capable of handling the high pressure situations he was thrown into. So, seeing him look nervous worried her.
Stratt reached out and slowly lowered the top of her laptop so it was partially closed. “Yes, I have some time before my next meeting,” she said, gesturing for him to take a seat in front of her desk. “What do you need?”
Grace sat in the chair, shifting nervously, before spitting out the words in a rush. “An old friend called. She needs my help. She needs me to be in Sydney later today,” he sucked in a deep breath. “I wouldn’t ask, but it is important. My current experiments just need reiterating and testing. The next major phase won’t start for a few weeks and DuBois and Shapiro can handle things in the meantime. I shouldn’t need more than a week to handle things there.”
Stratt blinked in surprise at Grace. The stubborn workaholic was asking for time off. The man who had pouted and sulked only a few days ago when he had been barred from the lab for an afternoon. “Yes, of course!” She said, before he could change his mind. “As long as you bring your phone and remain reachable for emergencies, we can stand to lose you for a week.”
She paused, before asking, “Is your friend alright?”
Grace nodded, looking relieved. “Yeah, it is nothing to worry about. Just an unexpected situation she wants my help with.”
Stratt nodded, the dictator in her wanting to dig in and get the details that Grace was unusually reticent about. He usually babbled on about anything and everything that popped into his head. But, she didn’t want to push and have him cancel the whole thing. “Alright. Give me the details and I will have Carl meet you on the flight deck in a few hours.”
Grace winced. “Do I have to bring Carl? It is just going to be a few days. I can handle things myself.”
Stratt gave him a flat look. “Do you remember what happened in Paris?”
Grace groaned, sliding down his chair, resting his head on the back of the chair. “That was a fluke.”
“What about—”
“Fine, fine, you win as always,” Grace grumbled, straightening up in the chair, cutting her off before she could continue. “I will send you the details.”
Stratt suppressed a grin, giving him a sharp nod. “Go, wrap up any loose ends and brief DuBois and Shapiro.”
Grace nodded, standing up and turning towards the door. “Thanks,” he said, looking over his shoulder.
“Try to have some fun while you are there, Dr. Grace,” Stratt called after him.
“Oh, I am sure I will,” Grace said, a smirk briefly crossing his face before he left the room.
Stratt stared at the empty doorway. She really hoped she wasn’t making a mistake letting him off the ship with so little details. But, how much trouble could a microbiologist get into in Sydney? With luck, he would spend a few days seeing the sites while visiting an old friend and come back well rested.