Bit of thought for the Twins in Intergalactic Roadtrip
(Context: after arriving on Earth, Grace convinces the crew to rope his brother into shenanigans bc he thinks Colt's stuntman expertise could help them with a problem theyre having)
"Uh..." Colt blinked, several times, trying to dispel the clear hallucination his mind had made up. "Hey, Jod, I think I might have hit my head a bit too hard in that last take. I am... seeing a ghost."
"What?" Her voice came over the radio, confused and alarmed.
Colt sat up, shaking the dust off himself as the hallucination of his dead brother got closer. He kept thinking it'd turn all swirly and disappear like a mirage, but it didn't.
There was movement to his side, the stunt crew running up to check on him and make sure he hadn't broken anything important. He felt Dan grabbing his shoulders, shaking him.
"Yo, Colt, are you good man? What are you—" he stopped abruptly. Then, "What the hell?"
Colt glanced at him. He was staring at the approaching hallucination. But if Dan could see it, then it wasn't a hallucination—
Colt knew Ryland had sacrificed himself to save a friend. Stratt had given him copies of the video logs he'd sent to Earth. Colt knew Ryland could've come home, but like the decision that led him to getting on the ship in the first place, he was selfless. He put the needs of a friend before himself.
And everyone knew that Ryland Grace would've died in space after that. He'd have no food. He'd die, up there amongst the stars. The only consolation that Colt had given himself for so long was that he knew Ryland wouldn't be dying alone.
So why was his dead brother approaching him? On set? Like they were twenty-nine again and that fucking ship hadn't even been thought of yet?
As Colt blinked the fuzz from his eyes, he realized there were two other men flanking either side of Ryland. They walked with purpose, like seasoned soldiers.
Ryland came to a stop, just a few feet away. He seemed nervous, leaning back on his heels. He was wearing a flightsuit. The flightsuit. It was worn from years of wear and tear, the top half tied around his waist, a dumb science pun t-shirt on full display beneath it.
"Oh my God," Dan breathed next to him. "Ryland?"
"Hey," Ryland offered, then fixed his gaze on Colt. His glasses were sliding down his nose, and Colt had the urge to push them up. "Colt... hi."
After however the fuck many years, that's all Ryland could say? Hi???
Wait... wait, why couldn't Colt remember how many years it had been? Why did life since the Hail Mary launch seem like a fuzzy blur?
Colt scrambled to his feet. The world spun around him. He couldn’t breathe.
"Are you real?" He blurted out, not sure if he was just having a really vivid hallucination via a concussion.
Ryland smiled, very wryly. "I hope so. Otherwise I'd have come eleven light years for nothing."
Colt took a stumbling step forward. Then another. Then sprinted the small gap between them, crushing his brother in a hug. It had been... he still couldn't remember an exact number, but it had been years. So many years, so long... too long.
He was crying. He knew that. Ryland buried his face in his shoulder and was crying too.
Eleven light years... he'd been eleven goddamn light years away. Colt couldn't wrap his head around that distance.
"I thought you were dead," he said, choking back a sob.
"I know," Ryland said into his shoulder, his own voice shaky. "I was supposed to be."
But he wasn't. He wasn't. His brother was alive and back on Earth and Colt was hugging him. The world felt right again.
