summary: after traveling into the wrong dimension, you find yourself in the presence of someone or something else’s presence. with a quick decision, you choose to approach.
pairings: ryland grace x fem!cooper!reader (interstellar)
warnings: reader is referred to as “coop” or “cooper” last name wise by TARS! the ship reader is using is implied to be a lot bigger than what we saw in the ending (about the same size as the hail mary, give or take).
notes: formatting is a lot easier on desktop, so hopefully things look less clunky now!
As you approach the foreign object—which looks to be a ship, though severely lacking compared to your own—your console crackles. “There.” You say, “I detect it.”
The other ship is unmoving—either due to lack of noticing you, or a separate reason. That doesn’t sit right with you. Ships don’t just drift like that—not unless something’s wrong.
You flip the channel open without hesitation, pulling the radio close to your lips. “Unidentified vessel, this is…—” You pause for a brief moment, do ship names really matter here? Not really, not anymore. “This is Cooper. Do you read?”
It’s silent, static filling the line. You don’t repeat yourself. If someone’s there, they heard you.
Until a voice finally speaks.
A human (presumably), panicked by the sound of it, but also… relieved? “Oh, thank God—yes—hi—hello, um… Yes, I read you! Are you, um—Are you real?”
Your brow raises at that, a quick glance being sent towards TARS before you respond nonetheless: “Yeah,” You huff out what sounds to be a chuckle, “I’m real.”
A few moments pass, and you choose to take the initiative. “Who am I speaking to?”
When he awoke, everything was jarring. He had no recollection of his name, who he was, where he was, why he was here, what his purpose was… Yeah, there were a lot of things he didn’t know right now. The first few days he spent drowning in misery—the loss of his crewmates (he assumed they were his crewmates, anyways), the loss of himself, the loss of being home. The silence didn’t help. Nothing helped.
The bags of vodka Ilyukhina left behind were quite possibly his saving grace (pun intended), and by the time he finished them he had (somewhat) snapped out of it. Not better. Just… less worse.
From then on, memories came back to him in short flickers (funny enough, these ‘flickers’ reminded him of those old lightbulbs in his classroom… Hey, wait, was he a teacher?). That thought stuck longer than the others: a teacher.
Right, yeah, okay, that felt right. A teacher with a PhD in biology, apparently—which, great, awesome, love that for him—but that doesn’t explain why he’s in space. Alone. On what he thinks is a very important mission.
First were things he assumed about himself, then he found the patchwork of what he assumed to be his name (Was his name Grace or was that his last name?), and then… a blank slate.
He knew Earth was dying. He knew he had been sent up here to solve that, but he couldn’t do it alone. Not when his memories were such a jumbled mess. Not when he wasn’t confident in himself. Not when every other thought ended in I don’t know.
Contacting Earth wasn’t even an option either—he shouldn't have to wait 11 lightyears for a singular reply!
You can only imagine how relieved Grace was when the Hail Mary sensed something—okay, well, maybe not with how it alerted him (seriously, was the alarm that loud on purpose?), but hearing an actual human voice speak to him through comms? Yeah, this person had to be an angel sent from heaven.
Grace had immediately rushed to the control room, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process, awkwardly sitting—well, more like dropping—himself into the pilot seat while begging Mary to tell him where the radio was.
“Okay—okay—where is it—where is the—comms—comms—comms—” He muttered, hands flying over controls he only half understood.
The second he replied to you, he mentally facepalmed. Jesus, why did he—why did he talk like that?! This was so embarrassing.
At your question, Grace paused. The silence stretched long and thin until you spoke up again.
Grace gulped, sitting up a little straighter like you could somehow see him through the radio. “Yeah, um—Yes—Hi! I’m, uh… I’m still here! Sorry—but—yeah—sorry, what was the… the question?” He stuttered out.
“Who am I speaking to?” You repeated once more.
So how exactly was he supposed to answer that? He didn’t even know himself. And God knows what you’d do if he went and said Hey, so I actually don’t remember anything at all or even my full name! You could just turn and leave for all he knew.
“Right—okay—uh…” He runs a hand over his face, already regretting everything. “Well—who am… I… speaking to?” He returned the question to you, buying time more than anything else.
“Right, cool, yeah—Cooper—cool,” He nods to himself, immediately wincing because why is he nodding. “Cool name! Well—last name—kinda… intimidating—Not like that! No, no, haha—It’s, uh—neat and—”
Oh, right, that. He goes quiet again—just for a second. “…Grace,” He blurts out finally. “Yeah, Grace. I think. Pretty sure. Like—80% sure? Which feels like a solid B, so I’m gonna go with that.”
Another moment of silence passes, and he isn’t sure if you’re evaluating him or waiting for more information. So instead, he continues:
On your end, you glance at TARS.
“He doesn’t seem to be very confident.” You mutter.
You bring the radio back up. “Alright, Grace,” You speak steadily. “You alone over there?”
You nod once, his answer isn’t exactly reassuring, but it’s too late now with how you’re already shifting your attention back to the ship outside your viewport.
“Okay,” You say. “Then we’re coming to you.”
You almost smile. “You can call him a sentient robot.”
Another pause, though much shorter this time.
“…Okay, that’s actually really cool.”
You don’t respond to that. Instead, your hands move over the controls, adjusting trajectory, closing the distance. Because whatever this is, whoever he is, you didn’t come this far to turn around now.
The distance between the two ships closes faster than Grace is emotionally prepared for. Which, granted, is not a very high bar.
“Oh—wow—okay, you’re—uh—you’re a lot bigger up close,” he mutters, leaning forward in his seat like that’ll somehow help him process what he’s looking at. Because wow. Your ship dwarfs his. Not just a little, not even moderately. It dwarfs it.
“Is that—Is that military?” he blurts out into the comms, immediately cringing at himself. “No, wait, that’s a dumb question, sorry, you don’t have to answer that—”
“We’re coming in to dock,” you cut in, almost like this is standard procedure for you. Which, for you, it is.
“For docking?” he repeats, a little higher-pitched than he’d like. “Right—okay—yeah—docking—good—love docking—big fan—”
You don’t respond to that. Instead, your eyes stay locked on the readouts, hands steady on the controls.
“Docking clamps are functional.”
The ship shifts, smooth and controlled in your experienced hands. On Grace’s end, it feels like the universe just moved entirely.
“Okay—yep—feeling that—definitely feeling that—” he grips the armrests, eyes wide. “Is it supposed to—do that?”
“Great. Awesome. Love that.”
There’s a low hum as your ship positions itself, the sheer size of it casting a shadow over the Hail Mary. Grace stares out at it, equal parts terrified and amazed.
“Pressure equalization?” you ask.
“I am making it as quick as safely possible.”
You exhale through your nose. “Then make it quicker.”
On the other end, Grace is pacing now. Well… attempting to pace. Zero gravity makes that… difficult. So it’s more like awkward pushing off walls and immediately regretting it.
“Okay, okay, okay,” He mutters, running a hand through his hair. “This is good. This is really good. Another person. A real person. Not dead—very important—huge improvement—” He stops mid-ramble. “…What if they’re weird?”
A moment passes, “…I mean, I’m weird, so that’s—hypocritical—but like—what if they’re, you know, dangerous weird?” He glances toward the airlock. Then back to the monitors. Then back to the airlock.
“…Okay, but they said they’re coming over, so—too late now.”
A sharp clunk echoes through both ships. You don’t react to the noise.
“Docking secure,” TARS confirms.
You’re already unstrapping yourself, “TARS, you’re with me.”
Grace freezes at the sound. “…Oh.” That sounded… final. Like, really final. He stares at the airlock door like it’s about to personally ruin his life. “Okay,” he whispers to himself. “Okay, this is fine. This is—this is good. You’re meeting another human. That’s normal. People do that. All the time. On Earth. Which you remember. Vaguely.”
He pushes himself toward the door, immediately overshooting it and having to grab onto the frame. “Okay—less enthusiasm—got it—” He straightens—well, as much as one can straighten in zero gravity—and awkwardly tries to compose himself.
“Hi,” he practices under his breath. “Hello. I’m—Grace—probably—nice to meet you—” He winces. “…Nope. Hate that.”
The hatch cycles open with a hiss. You don’t rush, it’s something you’ve grown used to. TARS follows behind you, his metal limbs shifting. The interior of the ship is… different. It’s smaller, tighter, messier. It looks… lived in.
Your eyes scan everything in seconds—layout, damage, supplies, exits... Then you spot him. Grace is floating just past the doorway, looking like he’s not entirely sure what to do with his own body. You stop a few feet away, studying him silently. He’s clearly alive, though incredibly alert, panicked, and somewhat… relieved? Well, it’s clear he’s human.
Grace blinks—once, then twice. “…Oh,” he says. That’s… yeah, that’s a person. A real person. Not a hallucination. Not a corpse. A person.
He straightens instinctively—or at least tries to—and ends up spinning slightly to the side instead. “Yep—hi—yeah—that’s me,” he says quickly, grabbing onto the nearest surface to stop himself. “Grace—again, like—pretty sure—that’s—still my name—so—” He cuts himself off, because wow, he is talking too much.
“…Hi,” he finishes, a little quieter this time.
You nod once, “(Y/N) Cooper.” Then you ask: “How come your ship’s in zero gravity?”
“Yeah, um—I don’t—I don’t know… How to fix that?”
“Right…” You raise a brow—are they really just letting anyone pilot a spacecraft these days? You’d have to help him with that later. “You said you were alone?”
“…Yeah,” he says, glancing back into the ship, as if waiting for someone else to suddenly pop in. “Yeah, just me. Unless—” he pauses, frowning slightly. “No, yeah, just me.”
You study him for another second. “Alright.” It’s as simple as that, your decision made.
Behind you, TARS shifts, floating idly, his panel blinking.
“He appears to be stable,” he notes.
Grace’s eyes snap to him. “…Okay, that is a sentient robot.”
“Yes,” TARS replies, “But I’m a lot more than just that.” (TARS is a pain in your ass, is what you want to say)
You ignore that. Instead, your attention stays on Grace. “Walk me through your situation.” You’re straight to the point, as always. There’s no easing into it, because time matters right now, because something is clearly wrong.
Grace exhales, something between a laugh and a nervous huff. “Okay—uh—so—fun fact—” he gestures vaguely to his head, already wincing. “I don’t remember… like… anything. Which is—bad—super bad—working on it—kind of—” He glances at you, like he’s waiting for you to leave. You don’t, so he keeps going. “I think I’m on a mission? Like—a really important one? Something about Earth dying—which, again, not great—um—and I’m supposed to fix it? But—” He lets out a breath. “I don’t know how, or why I’m the one doing it.”
“…So. Yeah. That’s—uh—that’s where we’re at.”
You take it in. Earth dying? It reminds you of your dimension. Except, from what you’ve gathered, this Earth appears to be savable.
Grace blinks at you. You’re not shocked? Or doubtful? Or even afraid? How are you so calm?
“That’s enough to start.” You glance around the ship once more, then back at him. “Let’s figure it out after I fix your gravity situation.”
taglist: @loaf-with-jam, @ecile, @moon-trash1507, @vitaminnzz, @thehammerx4
