[ID: A Project Hail Mary comic titled "After the Explosion". Grace and Stratt stand together, and Stratt lights a cigarette and says, "Dr. Grace, please ensure I am not bothered." Grace: "Yeah OK--" Stratt: "I am allotting myself 3 minutes to mourn." Grace asks with surprised suspicion, "Wait. 3 minutes?" Stratt: "Yes."
Grace: "Last time we lost someone you only asked for 1." Stratt: "Yes. I allow myself 1 minute per significant loss." Grace: "Oh okay." He frowns, then starts counting off on his fingers: "DuBois... Shapiro..." He turns to Stratt, who's turning away, and asks, "Wait a second, who's the third?" Stratt walks away, and Grace repeats concernedly, "Stratt? Who's the third??" Stratt thinks to herself while smoking, "Can't believe I gotta kill this guy." End ID]
here's a coltland twins comic i was working on where colt is suspicious of and upset with ryland leaving to go help with project hail mary. this was meant to be longer but🧍♀️
Imagine being Rocky in your spaceship when the first errors begin and you realize that the predator is eating your fuel and you have absolutely no way to stop it. Imagine thinking that even after all this, the death of your crew, the unlikely partnership, the wild success, the almost self sacrifice, you're never actually going to make it home. Everyone you love is going to die a slow and painful death.
Or almost everyone. The only bright spark is the friend you made along the way, the one you gave just enough fuel to make it home. You have to hope that he's not in the same predicament, but you know that his ship is made of strange material that could resist the amoeba better. You couldn't save your own world, but you could save his, and maybe that was all you could ever do.
You settle in, you make peace, as Grace would say, and just as you lay down you hear an impossible sound. A sound you think at first you might be imagining. A sound that is achingly familiar. A sound only possible because you insisted that you both make it out alive.
After months of radio silence, Colt finally learns about the new project that’s been taking up all of his brother’s time.
He’d always thought the world was a little slow on the uptake when it came to Ryland. It takes the sun dying before everyone else finally realises what Colt has known his entire life.
And they’re taking him away for it.
An exploration of the ripple effects of the Hail Mary mission on the people Ryland Grace left behind.
Word Count: 3.8k
AO3 Link
The wind and sand from set grated against Colt’s cheeks from where he was suspended above the- not as cushy as it looks, he’ll tell you that for free- crash mat 80feet below. He took a second to breathe. To feel the points where the harness and wires were holding his body up like some kind of voodoo doll-marionette hybrid; just waiting for the incoming pain while someone else controlled how and where his body moved. It had been years since that day, but he’d be lying to himself if drops weren’t his least favourite stunt to do now. He preferred to lie to himself about much worthier things, thank you, like ignoring the ending of ‘The Mist’, or how the hole in his favourite gently distressed jeans definitely hadn’t gotten big enough to become a liability. He was doing good- great even! The lines were holding him exactly as they should be and, hell, the view from up here wasn’t half bad either.
He took a moment to centre himself and look around; the sky was clear, there were birds chirping over the constant bustle of the crew below, and there were some pretty awesome rock formations making up the backdrop of the scene. Ryland would have lots of cool sciency facts about them, he’s sure. Colt was also sure that once his brother showed up on set to visit him and they’d gotten the chance to, like, relax and get some food (Jody was right, a bag of sour skittles probably shouldn’t count as breakfast and he was paying for it now) he would walk away knowing a lot more about rocks than when they’d sat down. Maybe if he remembered some of the bits that sounded particularly smart and cool he could use the second hand info to impress her… except Jody knew Ryland well enough by now that she’d recognise the sudden smarts coming out of her boyfriend’s mouth as stolen valour before he even got a chance to talk about… stripantors? Striators? Whatever word Ry had used ages ago when Colt had texted him some cool rocks from a previous shoot. He’d hear it again soon anyway.
Still, he couldn’t wait to see Ry again after so long apart. Apparently you give a guy a fancy new government job doing top secret lab stuff and suddenly he forgets the phone goes both ways- not that Colt was like, bitter, or anything. Normally he’d say it was unlike the Ry he knew, the one who always sent stacks of voice notes throughout the week for Colt to catch up on between shoots, but he’d seen first hand how single-mindedly focused Ryland got when he got his hands on something he was either incredibly excited about or incredibly nervous about. First, the voice notes had slowed, then were replaced by an occasional text, and then trickled into weeks of silence at a time. God, Colt hoped it was the former, that Ryland was just too busy and hyper-fixated on whatever new project he was working on to remember he even had a phone.
No one had called time yet, so Colt risked having a quick glance at the crew members scurrying around like ants below to see if he could spot… Well, there wasn’t much you could see from this height, but he knew in his gut he’d recognise his twin even if he was just a tiny smudge below.
Before he could begin waxing poetic, his eye was caught by a growing cloud of dust in the distance, and he strained closer to get a better look before realising there wasn’t really anywhere to go when you’re being held up in the sky by a bunch of tensioned wires preparing to drop you 80feet. The dust cloud was getting bigger, closer he quickly realised, and before his eyes the smudge of dark dust morphed into a line of two black cars speeding along towards the set. Shit. Yeah, no those cars looked like scary official cars. God, he hoped that they weren’t here about the whole Ryder thing ag-
“Ten second count down! Places everyone!”
He braces on instinct, years of training and experience got his body into position as all thoughts of the ominous cars leave his head. The whistle of wind and the zip of wires running through pulleys take its place as he waves his arms through the air in the practised way he knows looks cool and action hero-y.
Fuck yes. This is what it’s all about, baby.
He closed his eyes as the wires get louder, the harness jerks against his hips as it suddenly slows and- Ouch. Yep. Whoever advertises these crash pads needs a stern talking to from the trade commission or whoever keeps those fuckers in line because they’re definitely a lot more crash than pad.
Colt gives himself a moment to take stock: Legs? Good. Arms? Good. Head? Hungover still but other than that, good. Perfect. He lifts one arm and gives the stunt coordinator a solid thumbs up before heaving himself up and off the pad, kicking up dust which he brushes off his pants in a totally nonchalant way. The sudden sound of clapping has him looking up to catch sight of Ryland. They meet eyes and his brother breaks out into a full-on grin, whooping for him in a way that he can’t even care to be embarrassed about as he takes a moment to give an exaggerated bow for his audience of one. Colt can’t help but grin back at him as the crew starts unclipping him from the harness but then falters slightly as he takes in the men standing either side of his brother. Both look… decidedly serious. Black suits, earpieces, and uh yep, that looks like a holster being badly hidden under their jackets. The one to Ry’s right is also clapping, though, so he’ll take the compliment. Audience of three I guess...
Once he’s got the all clear he jogs over, looking back and forth at the intimidating straight-faced guys in suits before focusing on his brother. He makes quite a sight between them, still grinning from ear to ear and in a bright blue shirt proudly proclaiming ‘don’t trust atoms, they make up everything.’
Being boxed in by the cast of ‘Men in Black’ aside, he had really missed his baby bro these past few months. It was the same dorky smile, the same stupid shirts and the same infectious wonder which had helped get him through the worst few months of his life all those years ago, and he grabbed Ryland into a fierce hug. Wombmate or not, he’d shared enough blood with Ryland throughout their childhood and his recovery alone that Ry would have been his brother even if they weren’t related. Though he’d never risk giving Ryland the ammo of actually telling him that, he hoped that the way he hugged his brother as close as possible got the message though well enough.
When they eventually pull apart, Colt looks Thing 1 and Thing 2 up and down before squinting back at Ryland. “You gonna introduce me to my new fan club or do I still have to do everything around here?”
Ryland chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his neck as he looks between them. “I’ve been, uh, assigned bodyguards for any trips off the Va- away from the project,” he quickly corrects with a tight smile. The man to his right rolls his eyes, as if Ry slipping up was an unfortunate but inevitable outcome.
Mr. Mysterious leans in anyway, raising a quite clearly disappointed eyebrow, “Dr. Grace, need I remind you of the many, many NDA forms you’ve signed in order to come on this visit?”
Ryland winces and turns to presumably offer an appropriately chastised apology, but doesn’t even get the chance.
“NDA’s? Bodyguards? Last I checked I was the famous-adjacent twin who had to worry about that shit. What the hell’s going on Ry? I haven’t heard from you in—” Colt glances around, trying to settle the growing pit in his stomach and instead quickly becoming aware of how many other people from the production team surround them. They’re definitely listening in, but at least have the decency to try and look like they aren’t. Colt’s pretty sure Fabian from the pyro crew is pretending to wipe down an already detonated charge right now though.
“Fuck it, let’s talk in my trailer. Hope you’re hungry for microwaved burritos, I’m not giving whoever’s at the catering truck dinner and a show.” Colt grabs his arm, pulling him along quickly- feeling rather than seeing Ryland’s newly acquired shadows trail along behind them.
“Colt, look it’s- it’s complicated, but Carl’s super nice once you get past the looming! You can just pretend he’s not here!”
“Not to be one of those people, Ry, but please stop talking until we can at least pretend half the set isn’t tuning in for their latest soap opera episode, yeah?”
He hurries Ryland into the trailer, purely focused on getting his brother out of the limelight- that is until a hand catches the door before it can swing shut. Colt swirls around, half rattled, half pissed off, and already puffing up his chest for a fight, “Yo, you see the name on the door? It says Colt. Not the Grady twins. Give us some room, yeah?”
“By order of the government we are to follow Dr. Grace everywhere he goes while off premises.” Presumably-Carl cuts in, pulling the door open wide enough for both men to step through.
Colt barks out a laugh as the door finally shuts, “Oh the government yeah? Which government? Because last I checked in America you can’t just—”
“Every government.”
Colt blinks a few times, eyes flicking between Carl and an increasingly fidgety Grace.
“Comforting. No, yeah that makes sense then.”
Grace looks up, eyes slightly hopefully from where they peek out over the top of his glasses, “Really?”
“No.”
Grace’s face falls and Colt feels the smallest twinge of guilt as he continues, “no because up until a few months ago you taught middle school! But all of a sudden you need- what? 24/7 government babysitting? Also what the fuck do you mean whenever he’s off premises?” He jabs a finger towards Carl’s chest, but doesn’t give Ryland the relief of looking away from him just yet, “You sit on his bedside table like some kind of fucked up Furby and watch him sleep, do you?”
Grace’s face falls even more, “I, uh, I haven’t actually been off site in the last few months so… no fudged up Furbys here, promise!” He chuckles nervously and gives an awkward thumbs up.
“Nuh-uh, no thumbs up! What, so you haven’t been home? What the fuck do you mean you haven’t been home, Ry? You’re making it sound like- like they fucking kidnapped you or something.”
The wince that garnerd turned the growing pit in Colt’s stomach into a lead weight, free-falling straight down without even a shitty crash mat to break the fall. He scrubs a hand over his face, leaning back against the wall as a throb starts making a home in his temple. “Ry…”
“Kidnap is, like, a really strong word! It was more like… strong encouragement?” His face tells the real story though. Now Colt can look closer he sees the tightness in his eyes that wasn’t there before, and the hollowness under them. He seems like he’s lost weight, too, and the hem of his shirt shows telltale signs of anxious picking.
“Mr. Grace,” Carl steps between the two brothers, placing a heavy hand on Colt’s shoulder, “May I call you Mr. Grace? Or do you prefer Mr. Seavers?”
“I mean, would it matter what I want? Seems like you guys just do what you like anyway.” Colt lets out a humourless laugh, tasting something like helplessness at the back of his throat. It burns, acrid and foul.
Ryland glanced away, as if making eye contact any longer hurt.
“It’s… it’s bigger than me, Colt. There’s so much stuff going on right now, different countries working together, experts from every field, I just… It’s more important than just me. The world is coming together on this. It’s worth it- I mean, what’s a few long nights in the face of helping people?” It spills out of him, almost talking over himself in an attempt to smooth the ragged edges of his life during the past few months.
“Yeah? Bigger than you? Because from where I’m standing Krueger and Voorhees here stole my brother away and are working him to death in some secret lab! Why would I care about the world coming together- for some super top secret reason I’m not even allowed to know, by the way- when it’s keeping me from the only family I have left?”
Ryland shudders, a wet gasp barely escaping before he bites his lip to smother the rest. A hand rests on Colt’s shoulder like granite, dragging him back towards the trailer door.
“Mr. Seavers, I think we’re in need of a more private conversation. There are some things Dr. Grace has not been authorised to explain.”
Colt swallowed down his next words, trying and failing to meet his brothers eye. Something is wrong. Something is so deeply wrong and his own brother can’t even look him in the eye and tell him.
“Yeah. I suppose we are.”
The heat from outside does nothing to help the sticky feeling settling over his skin. He stands shoulder to shoulder with the man charged with surveilling the one person he was always meant to be there for.
“I assume you’ve heard about the Petrova Line.”
A flicker of recognition. Colt vaguely remembers hearing the evening newscasters talking about some phenomenon happening deep in the solar system as the TV played as background noise during whatever he’d felt was more important at the time. He suddenly wishes he’d paid more attention. He can’t even remember what he’d been doing, what he’d felt was more important than this- this thing that had apparently taken over his brother’s life without him even realising. Ryland would have been paying attention.
That’s probably what got him here in the first place.
He takes a breath.
“That thing they keep talking about on the news? Some… new line in space?”
“Yeah.” Carl’s voice sounds resigned, like this isn’t the first time he’s borne the brunt of this conversation and he’s well aware it won’t be the last. “It’s killing the sun. Your brother is the leading expert in the world on what’s causing it. He’s been finding out the hows and whys- and more importantly if there’s a way to stop it.”
“Killing the—” Colt risks looking over, half-expecting to see a smirk or some kind of wink, for this to be some kind of terrible, callous prank. “The sun? Really? Some little line in the sky is gonna wipe out that massive ball of fire?”
“Yes.”
Carl isn’t smirking. Colt suddenly understands why Ryland’s smile hadn’t been meeting his eyes, either.
He lets out a long breath, sitting heavily on the trailer’s steps.
“Ok, sure, the sun’s dying and Ry is helping you guys figure out how to stop it, that’s important stuff. But what I don’t get is why he needs to be watched like he’s the ticking time-bomb here. He’s just… He’s Ry,” Colt lets out a slightly hysterical chuckle, “You know?”
That was his little brother, his little brother who- who cried every time an animal in a nature documentary died, and who hand cut paper chains to decorate his kids’ classroom at Christmas. Ryland who was anxious and awkward and rambling, who whined when things didn’t go his way and watched every single one of Colt’s movies- even the really shitty ones from when he was just starting out.
His little brother who washed his hair and made sure he actually followed his physio instructions when he broke his back, even though he was the one who was supposed to be the carer, the protector, out of the two of them.
Funny, then, how every hospital room he'd ever woken up in seemed to have Ryland sitting at his bedside.
Carl sits beside him, letting out a long breath of his own as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Like this he didn’t look like the cold-hearted man who was exploiting Colt’s little brother. He just looks tired.
“He’s Dr. Ryland Grace. If we lose him, if he- I don’t know- gets hit by a car crossing the street or chokes to death on a fucking skittle, humanity loses the best chance it has of understanding what’s happening and how to stop it.”
So humanity needed Ryland.
Colt needed Ryland too, and he’d never claimed to be selfless.
“Dr. Grace is too important to take unnecessary risks with right now. You have no idea how much I had to argue to let them sign off on this visit.” He snorts, shaking his head, “they didn’t get that you can protect his body all you want, but if you want him to be able to use his mind you have to protect that part too.”
“So this is his enrichment time? I’m the blood popsicle?”
“The what?”
“...I watched a documentary about tigers last night. Whatever, it’s not important.”
Carl’s lip twitches, “I’d say it’s closer to those support dogs they put in with anxious cheetahs.”
“Ah, perfect,” Colt nods sagely, “now you’re talking on my level. Gotta dumb it back down for the non-prodigy brother.”
“Bit of a relief, honestly. There’s only so many conversations I can have with those workaholics about how distant concepts like ‘emotional regulation’ and ‘stress relief’ are actually needed every now and again for a person to function.”
Colt’s eyes trail over the dust and mud cracking over the toe of his boot, scraping a bit off on the edge of the step.
“Thanks for… y’know. Didn’t think your bodyguard contract would include watching out for him like that, too.”
“It doesn’t. But I think he needs someone to have his back in there,” He patted Colt’s back and stands, turning towards the trailer door, “just like he needs you here.”
Colt follows, wincing slightly as the throb in his back makes itself known again.
“Time to therapy-dog the shit out of my brother.” He makes a face, shaking the words away, “Nope. That sounds weird. Forget that.”
“You really are so much alike.” Carl snorts, pushing open the door.
Inside, Ryland and Bodyguard #2 are sitting on opposite sides of the room looking straight ahead. The silence in the room is so awkward it’s deafening and Colt distinctly gets the picture of a kid in a principal’s office. The relief of Ryland’s face is palpable as he gives him a tentative little wave.
Looking at Ry suddenly felt a lot like looking into one of those carnival mirrors. They’d always had the same face, but somewhere in the last few months somebody had taken an eraser to the edges of him- had smoothed out all the awkward angles and clumsy words and replaced it with someone who could almost convincingly pretend everything was going to be fine. Colt knew his brother, he’d seen the pinch in his brows, the twitch in his fingers that spoke of a need to grab hold and explain. But he couldn’t. Almost anything he could say to Colt about what had been happening to him the last few months was wrapped in pages and pages of international government discussion and then tied up neatly with a few NDA’s.
They can’t talk about it, but Colt wasn’t ever going to let silence stretch out between him and his little brother. If Ryland could pretend everything was ok, then he could too.
“Damn, don’t get too wild without me, Ry, I don’t wanna miss out on the fun.” Ryland and Carl at least give him a little chuckle for the joke, even if the nameless bodyguard barely even looks up at him.
“Y’know, there’s some cool stuff around set I wanted to show you, if you’re, uh, interested?”
-----------------------
They end up sitting in some old fold up chairs, looking out at the rocky landscape as they pick at the unevenly reheated burritos in their hands. Ryland’s perpetual shadows were now sitting a more respectful distance away so they could actually talk, which Colt appreciates.
“Oh wow… just look at those striations, you know—”
“That’s the word! Holy fuck I’ve been trying to remember that all day!”
Ryland laughed, bumping his fist against Colt’s shoulder, “Oh yeah? Were you planning on becoming a geology buff all of a sudden, huh? Do I have to worry about being dethroned as the biggest nerd in the family?”
Colt hummed, stroking his chin as if thinking over it.
“Interesting proposition… How about you tell me what striations actually are again and I can make a decision about it.”
Ryland leans forward, suddenly all business as a light gleams in his eye. He launches into a detailed explanation of how the rocks formed over time that would make David Attenborough proud, hands moving through the air as he talks and talks and talks. Colt watches him fondly, nodding and making the appropriate ooh’s and aah’s when Ry starts insistently patting his leg to make sure he’s paying attention to what he feels are the most important bits. Something unwinds in Cole’s stomach. Some tension that had been building there over the last few months his brother had gone dark. He finally looked like himself again.
"—and that's why the layers formed at different rates over millions of years."
Colt waits for Ryland to continue, but nothing else follows. He was quiet, unfocused eyes staring off at the (apparently Jurassic, Colt had learned) sandstone before them.
Ryland blinked.
"What?"
"You, uh, you stopped talking for a bit there, man."
"Oh."
Ryland looked vaguely surprised by that, as if he hadn’t even realised they’d been sitting in silence for the last minute or two.
"Sorry. Lost my train of thought."
Colt… isn’t sure that’s ever happened before. Not to Ryland- not when he was talking about science. But before he can prod Ryland laughs, waving the moment off.
"You probably weren't listening to a word of that anyway, were you?"
"Oh, absolutely not."
"I got three minutes into sedimentary layering before you checked out."
"Two minutes."
"One and a half."
"Fair."
He could be noble for a few more months, Colt thought as Ryland got back into his explanation, the world was just slower at catching on than him. He already knew his brother would do incredible things someday, and once he’d done his thing and gotten the speeches and awards he deserved, he’d be right back in his usual place; teaching the next generation about how stuff works and using his stupid, incredible brain to tell Colt he was an idiot for getting so hungover again. He could spare his brother for a few months, he supposes, it’s only fair the rest of the world gets to see how brilliant he really is, too.
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