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sio-writes · 8 days

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Botanist's Guide: Chapter 14

<<Chapter 13

<<<Chapter 1

Summary: Cassandra Rowland, PhD, finally has the chance to work on an experiment that really matters: growing Earth crops on another planet. But too many overdue reports and marked failures have put her in hot water with the board, and this is her last chance at redemption. So when she finds herself railroaded by a seven foot tall, glowing alien named Kri, it won’t be as easy as sticking some seeds in the soil and running them under the tap. Tack on the looming repossession of her lab contingent on her success in Kri’s reports, and Cassie realizes she may have her work cut out for her.

Tags: past death and unhealthy grieving mentioned

Kri

I wake up feeling troubled and anxious, from the moment I open my eyes, the memories of the day before come rushing in. Cassie had lost the most important thing in her life less than thirty hours ago, and I gently nudged her towards my home only because I know how it feels to wake up alone after a major life event. I'd fully intended to stay respectful and sleep on the couch, but the temptation to guard over my beautiful human was too great. I can hardly refuse Cassie on any normal day, let alone one where her watering eyes threatened to spill over if I didn’t sleep beside her.

So this morning I wake up on my back with her draped over my side, her arm across my chest and a leg thrown possessively over my hips. Her limbs are a weight over my body that centers me, grounds me in the present and relaxes my muscles. I could stay here for hours.

She’s a quiet sleeper, only the rise and fall of her back indicates her breathing. Her other hand is tangled in the pillows behind me, and her free leg is sticking out of the basket, which tells me that she likes to spread out like a flower when she sleeps. Hanging nests are meant to act as a cocoon, providing safety in an enclosed space; they're not meant for much else outside of sleeping, unlike human beds that seem to act as a second living room. Cassie wouldn't be comfortable here in the long term, and I briefly wonder if I could handle sleeping on a mattress for the rest of my life.

I think I could, for her.

It's tempting to remain in the nest all day. My body certainly agrees. Even buckled under the stress of not knowing what today will bring, I find it hard to see past the fact that Cassie is sleeping on top of me. The bottom of her thigh is pressing deliciously against my groin plates, her whole body is against mine and I'm washed in the smell of her lavender-scented hair products, my favorite of Earth's smells, floral and light. As I take a deep inhale of her hair, I consider what to do next.

I enjoy her presence here, and I want to keep her with me as long as she can stand. I’ll need to get her a change of clothes, provide food, and think of distractions she can pick from instead of trodding back to an empty greenhouse.

That's when I realize that it's early, too early for the day to start, but I know what woke me up. Sleeping on my back has cut the circulation to my wings, and an uncomfortable numbness has started to spread from the tips and stretch its fingers all the way down my spine. Usually I can ignore it, but it's begun to hinge on painful, and it’s probably that encroaching pain that woke me up. But I won't move with my Cassie laying on top of me.

To distract myself, I brush away a stray curl laying delicately over her brow, fascinated as it springs back to its original position the moment I let go. Human hair is endlessly fascinating, unique to the individual it grows on. Cassie's moves like she does, bouncy and energetic, begging my fingers to run through it even now in the dark. I know humans can put color in their hair, and I wonder if that's the case with her. It blends from a light yellow at the ends to nearly black as it reaches her head, and in the greenhouse in the afternoon, it catches the light and she turns into the sun.

Cassie stirs but doesn’t wake, only rolls to her opposite side and blindly feels for a pillow that she holds to her chest.

Using the brief opportunity of freedom, I carefully and quietly get out of my nest and to my feet. It’s a balancing act of maintaining myself upright and keeping the rocking of the basket to a minimum, but the moment I’m up, I feel my circulation returning. I roll both my primary and secondary shoulders and shake the feeling back into my wings as I step around the nest and to the couch.

After Cassie received the news of her lab being shut down, I’d been working on instinct to keep her from collapsing so I could bring her back here. I couldn't let her fall into a depression, I needed to take care of her. But it’s the next morning now, she’s going to wake up soon, and I need a plan that extends beyond the bounds of this apartment.

I rub my face with my primary hands as I sit on the couch, letting my head fall into my palms. Beside me, Cassie stirs again, but only to shift her weight and grab for another pillow.

I don't know how she's going to react, and that troubles me. I'm not good at preparing for the unknown, the sudden.

Unfortunately, I only have my own experience with tragedy to call upon. I believe the human term goes something like, “a trip down memory road," and it’s not a trip I particularly want to take, but if my own experience can help Cassie through hers, then I’ll weather through the murky waters of my memories.

The first week after Vles’ death is a haze. Between planning their funeral, moving to Outpost #3, and working around the rampant denial that they were gone, I was stretched in too many directions. Months before their death we'd planned the ceremony, but they'd only focused on where they’d be resting— at Outpost #7 or home in Lethien, as there was more paperwork to fill out for one than the other.

Afterwards, everything else was left to me - notifying family, arranging services, being physically and emotionally available for all the sympathy and heartfelt conversations. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't string together enough words to even be polite. I'd had to clear out the remnants of a life extinguished too soon, and all I’d wanted to do was break into that basement where the humans keep chilled remains so I could lay next to Vles for the next year and a half.

Cassie will likely be at a similar low. It hurts in my chest to think of the pain she's going to feel. The lab was her everything, her whole world. She based her self-worth in her work, and to be told it wasn't enough? I can’t imagine.

If it were up to me, I’d move Cassie here, keep her close so I could watch over her and be nearby in case anything happens. I’d feel much better if she did. But that’s a future conversation, so I put it on a back shelf in my mind, and dig into my brain for ways to care for her.

Ari came to my rescue. They’d tried to distract me when all I wanted to do was melt into the floor. They brought me food and kept me on a schedule and essentially made all my decisions for me when I was struggling just to stay conscious without the aid of alcohol. I can't do anything about the notifications or other people or whatever torrent of feeling she's going to experience on waking up, but there are certain things I can mitigate to make her life easier. Cassie’s situation is wholly different from mine, but I know she’s going to wake up disoriented, upset, and probably in denial. That, I can work with.

Food, I should make her food.

The past week following our coupling has given me more than enough time to research human habits and culture. I wanted to be knowledgeable to be a better partner, but maybe what I learned can help in this too. My research on meals brought up that certain foods are only consumed at certain times, which is incredibly strange, but I'll see what I can manage. It's approaching morning, so I believe it's break-fast time.

A quick search in my food-cooling box only tells me that I need to go out for more food. It's empty and pathetic looking. The same is said for the pantry, and the freezing-box. The humans were very nice for bringing us this technology alternative to store food, but I wish I had a replicator on-hand. It's much more convenient for quick meals instead of cooking-- ingredients are added and food comes out, whereas with this box food just goes in and stays cold. As much as I enjoy making food for Cassie, I need something quick and easy.

After another cursory glance in the cooling-box, I pull out a pink klen loaf and a container of sweet mixed berries. It's not ideal, but this will have to do.

As quietly as possible I search through my bag and pull out my mobile device. It still has a bit of power remaining, so I message Ari to find Jillie so I can get Cassie a change of clothes. It’s likely that Ari isn’t awake yet, but they’ll see the message when they do wake up. I remember where Cassie’s apartment is, but I’m reluctant to leave her alone here. Not because I distrust her, but if she wakes up in a strange place on her own, it may send her into a panic.

Ari responds much faster than I’d thought they would. I’ll text Jillie :)

It takes me an embarrassing amount of time to realize that Ari is using the Earth slang for "message." Even typed in Universal it looks odd.

Thank you.

Keep me updated, yes?

Yes.

I need to brush up on my Earth-English dialect, if I’m to keep up with the humans, or perhaps just one in particular.

My device buzzes again, but I ignore it in favor of turning towards the kitchen. As I’m placing the berries into a bowl, Cassie stirs again, waking up with a long groan that I want to memorize for when I’m alone. Then I hear her inhale sharply and the basket jostles as she sits upright, and likely gathers her bearings, before she blows a relieved note through her lips. I can see her shock of pale yellow hair above the rim of the basket, a little off-kilter from sleep, and as she sits up I’m met with her pale brown forehead, and then her gorgeous blue eyes.

In Igrien, which feels so long ago, she had asked me my favorite color, and I’d answered honestly. The blue of a clear sky, or the ocean. It’s the color of her eyes, a lovely coincidence that only adds to my attraction to her.

And she’s happy to see me, I hope, because her eyes crinkle and she breathes out my name, “Kri!”

She easily tips herself out of the basket, a feat I’m surprised by but pleasantly so, and she shivers at the cold tile under her feet. She keeps her eyes on me, though, padding across the floor and into the kitchen to wrap her arms around my middle and bury her face into my shoulder.

“Please tell me yesterday was a horrible dream, and I’m here because we had mind-blowing sex.”

I smooth a hand over her hair. “I wouldn’t lie to you like that.”

“Yeah,” she breathes against my chest. “You only lie by omission.”

She’s coping with humor, but the statement still stings. I wouldn’t take back our time in the lab for anything, but I wish the circumstances had been better. At least, if she’s making jokes at my expense she’s not wallowing.

"I'm sorry, that was mean," she says quickly, looking up at me with her cheeks puffed out. Adorable.

"Unforgivable," I tease, smoothing a primary hand over her poofy hair and pressing my lips to her forehead so she knows that I'm joking.

Kissing is another import from Earth, and one I enjoy very much. Humans lack the humming vocalizations we use to express affection, they can't even hear half our speech patterns, but they make up for it with other physical touches. Hugging and kissing, casual touch or even just standing a bit too close to let the other know they’re there.

I’d asked Ari for advice on the subject when I was sorting through my feelings for Cassie, and after they'd stopped laughing at my expense, they'd directed me to the on-line Archive with human films and given me a list to watch.

"Take these things with a grain of salt, 'Asxu," they'd said as if I understood the meaning of that phrase, sitting next to me on the couch as the first film started. They'd brought some corn-based Earth snack with them, claiming it to be a staple in watching films with someone else. It made my apartment smell of butter and salt, and it was very tasty. "Most Earth movies tend to exaggerate or misrepresent. Unless you're watching a documentary, and not even those are completely impartial."

"So why are we watching these instead of a documentary?"

"The specific type of documentary you're looking for is considered pornography, and there's very little of that in The Archive. Also these are more entertaining. They tell stories!"

We'd sat through several films, some good and others very confusing, and I took so many mental notes that my head began to throb. The headaches were worth it, though, when I finally got to kiss Cassie and she didn't push me away in disgust.

I'm glad Cassie is so receptive to my touch. I enjoy being able to confirm her presence, to feel her under my fingers.

"I don't have much," I say, stepping away from her embrace and into the kitchen. "But you should eat something."

Her eyes spark with recognition when she spies the klen loaf, and again at the bowl of berries next to it. "You made me breakfast. We didn't even have sex last night."

"'Make' is hardly the word I would use," I say, ignoring the other part of her comment.

"Do you have any coffee?"

"...Is that a food item?"

Her smile is tired, making me feel like I've failed. "That's a no, then."

I push my failure aside and watch while she eats, although I don't know what I'm looking for. Abnormalities in behavior? Expressions of disgust?

Mostly I think of what needs to be done soon. The lab will need to be emptied and cleaned, the greenhouse as well. I can take several of the smaller plants to my apartment without worry, but Ari may have a tough time smuggling any out of the Outpost to place in their personal greenhouse. Perhaps I should ask if they plan to take any at all.

The difficulty of the situation begins to bog me down, that is, until Cassie reaches for my hand and gives my fingers a reassuring squeeze.

"You're clicking again."

I frown in confusion. "Clicking?"

"That noise you make," she says. "You do it when you're thinking, I think."

Ah, the plate shifting, that's what she means. It's been so frequent the past few weeks I hardly even hear it anymore.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she asks, squeezing my hand again. She smiles when my frown deepens. "I'm asking what you're thinking about.

There's no point in keeping it a secret. "I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine," she says casually, shrugging. "I just woke up, so nothing's hitting yet."

I wait as finishes eating and hands me the bowl. I step to the sink and run the water to wash it off, trying to organize my thoughts once again. Behind me, Cassie takes a deep inhale and then makes a noise of disgust.

"I should head out. I need a shower," she says, and I nearly drop the bowl in my hands. She can't go, not yet, not when she may collapse. I can't let that happen.

"You're welcome to use mine," I offer quickly, nodding towards the bathroom.

She shifts from foot to foot as she regards each option, and I try not to smile when she steps towards my bathroom. She stops before entering, and as she opens her mouth to speak, there's a knock at the door.

Cassie and I are equally surprised to see both Jillie and Ari at the door. They were faster than I thought, and I'm glad I asked for extra clothes. After several polite minutes of assuring both that we are alright and making plans for dinner at a later date, they finally left us in peace.

Cassie only turns her back to the closed door, rests her weight on it, and slides downwards until she is sitting on the floor. Her eyes are closed, and her expression is tight and agitated, and I can see tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

I place myself next to her, unable to mimic her legs in their crossed positions and choosing to extend them out. Offering her my primary hand, I try to give her an encouraging smile, but by the expression she returns, I may as well be lying. She looks lost, hopeless, and afraid.

When I was lost, I found that direction from others helped calm the torrent. "Would you like to keep eating, or would you like to bathe now?"

Her returning smile is small, but I can feel her gratitude through it. "I should wash up, but I don't want to be alone."

I've heard of this-- human pack bonding in times of grief. I'd read about it during a seminar on their behavior. She wants my company so she won't fall into a state of panic while alone in a strange place.

I'm doing very well at this "boyfriend" thing, I think.

She starts the water and reaches up to unbutton her shirt, but then hesitates.

“You need to wait.”

“Why?”

“So I can actually shower before we, uh,” she trails off, and it hits me.

I raise my brow. "You want to have sex. Now."

Cassie makes an odd expression, like I'm a distant object and she's trying to determine how much time she has before impact. "Boy, what--" she starts, gathers herself, and flaps her arms. "I dunno! Maybe? I thought it would…distraction," she trails off and looks down at the floor. That awful, hopeless expression flickers over her face again, and I feel my resolve crumble.

A step forward, and I take one of her hands in mine. Her palm is round, just like the rest of her, slightly cool and light brown. I keep my voice very low so it won't echo off the tile and make me listen to what I'm about to say as I squeeze her hand. "Alright."

For the second time, Cassie smiles at me, and my heart leaps in my chest.

#my writing #A Botanist's Guide #alien oc #alien romance #monster romance #teratophillia #original story #monsterfucking #We're back in business with a Kri perspective! I'd like to get back to a semi-regular posting schedule now\#I have so many new serials i wanna start but I'm keeping my workload light for my mental health #but grrr i'm going feral over here

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sio-writes · 11 months

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Botanist's Guide - Chapter 13

< Chapter 12

<< Chapter 1

"Here we lay to rest Emmie Rowland, loving family member, faithful friend, and one hell of a musician. One can only hope that her little electronic soul reaches that big headphone jack in the sky."

With that, I tip my palms down, releasing Emmie into the trash compactor. I cringe at the crunching sound of the steel blades, and watch solemnly as her bright silver case, now shredded to pieces, makes its way down the assembly line and towards the compactor. There, she'll be melted down at 400℃ and repurposed into a non load-bearing beam for the Archive Expansion project. Maybe some of the music will make its way there through osmosis and I'll have something to listen to in five years.

Beside me, Kri rests a heavy hand on my shoulder. "Is this headphone jack in the sky part of that heaven place you've mentioned?"

"Yeah," I sniff. "MP3 player heaven." I bump my chest with my fist and point to the ceiling. "She's rockin' with the angels now."

Kri follows my hand with his eyes like he can see through the ceiling. "Are there other electronic devices there as well?"

"It's not that deep, hun," Jillie says, patting Kri on the bicep. "Cass' just being dramatic."

I turn to them, choosing to ignore that last comment out of respect for Emmie, and blow a huge breath through my mouth. "Alright, time to work."

The funeral had been a pit stop on the way to the lab, a necessary one, but still out of the way. As we walk down the hallway and back towards the lab, I realize there's a lightness to my steps that hasn't been here since I landed. I'm excited, energized, I'm looking forward to the week ahead. The plants have been great, my mood has been lifted, and I feel like I could skip to the moon and back, and I think I know the main reason why.

I have a boyfriend now. Even thinking that to myself makes me want to giggle behind my hand. It's been years since I've been able to say that, and this bubbly feeling that wells up in my stomach like soda and pulls my attention to the alien at my side. I thought I was hyper-aware of his presence before, but now it feels like we're magnets, constantly circling but never touching, and the closer we get, that harder it is to pull away.

The weekend was a long enough time for the information to really set in, long enough for me to rope in Jillie over lunch and then stare at the ceiling without feeling guilt as I thought of Kri with my hand down my pants. Even seeing him this morning kick started something in my body, it wasn't purely sexual, although that was definitely part of it, but I just want to be near him. I want to sit in his lap and twirl my hair in my fingers as he feeds me grapes.

I start to reach for his hand as we get closer to the lab, but the sight of my mailbox outside my door has me nearly tripping over my own feet. Sitting in the plastic file-folder outside my door, is an envelope. It's standard paper, with a green seal on the back, with the simple swirling logo of the Outpost. I flip the envelope over and the logo is repeated on the return address, right above my printed name. It's my Milestone results.

"Fuck."

Jillie steps behind me and snorts. "What, door stuck again?"

I hold up the envelope, and her eyes go wide. "Shit."

The energy I felt before leaves me in a rush, replaced with anxiety and dread. The sunshine and rainbows I'd felt on the way over have turned into a thunderstorm.

I press my hand to the lock, trying to keep my shaking under control. We all step into the lab, and I make a beeline for my desk, collapsing into my chair before my legs give out.

I thrust the envelope into Jillie's hands. "You read it."

Jillie looks down at my hands, her own facing me and not taking the damn letter. She raises her eyebrows. "You want me to read it."

I pull my hand back and groan, my head falling to the desk with a thunk. "No! Yes. Maybe?" I groan again, rolling my head back and forth.

Kri speaks up quietly, "Would you like me to leave?"

I wave him off with my free hand. "No, no, stay." If I don't open the letter, then I can't fail, right? No, they'll just come to repossess everything out of the blue one day.

With a heaving sigh, I sit upright again, resting my elbows on the table, and open the envelope.

Salutations Dr. Cassandra Rowland,

On behalf of the Life Science and Biology Committee of XR239-7B, "Summanus," we want to thank you for your time, and commend you on your exemplary research in bringing a new form of sustainability to humanity's continuous efforts on our second home. Your proposal is just one of many that has been submitted to the board, requiring careful consideration in regards to funding and resource allocation.

Given the circumstances surrounding this particular proposal, including but not limited to your formal audit, your punctuality, and past budget concerns, we regret to inform you that your proposal was not selected for continued funding. You are welcome to full use of the facilities until the end-use date in your rent agreement, however after this date the Scientific Committee will be reassigning your laboratory as well as greenhouse section #189-04, and your role as Lead Research Scientist will be terminated August 13th, 2085. Please note that this is not a termination of your residence at Outpost #3, however you are encouraged to seek other career opportunities at this time, but please note that if you are unemployed for a period exceeding 100 consecutive days following your termination, your residency will be put under review.

We want to thank you for all the work that you've done in expanding humanity's knowledge, and we hope you continue to push yourself in all that you do.

Sincerely,

The Scientific Community of Summanus

I read it again. And again. And again. I read it until the words blur out of focus, jumbled on the page and I'm not crying, but I feel the sting of tears through my nose that tells me they're on the way. I hand the letter to Jillie, noting the uptick of my pulse in my ears. I make a mental note to slow my breathing as a panic attack pushes at my ribcage. It’s not going to overshadow this.

Jillie pulls me out of the fog when she says, “Oh no, hun I’m so sorry."

This is the worst possible news I could've gotten. I've received the worst outcome. All my experiments, all the writing, the planting, the watering and the documenting, was all for nothing.

Above me, Jillie clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me! Just like that and it’s gone?! They didn’t even give us a warning!”

“I think Kri was the warning,” I gesture with my head to Kri, and Jillie whirls on him.

“Your stupid report got us fired!”

Kri straightens, shoulders set back. “I wrote quite favorably, as a matter of fact.”

Jillie scoffs. “Right, is that why you gave Cass all those corrections?”

“In the beginning, yes, but it was unnecessary after the first several weeks. I can provide you with the report if—“

“Screw you!” Jillie snaps. “Because of you, we lost—“

“Jill, calm down,” I say as I rub my temples. Her yelling isn’t helping, the only thing it’s doing is ramping up my anxiety like a pressure gauge. But strangely enough, I’m still calm, physically. No panic, no rapid heartbeat, no heavy breathing. Only a crystal clear view of my next steps.

The plants need to be relocated, and I need to clear out the lab as well as the greenhouse, which includes sorting the plants in there too, otherwise the cleaning crew will toss everything in the garbage. I need to clean the lab and register all the equipment back to the department, and make a record of what was done and add it to the Archive.

“It’s not his fault,” I continue. “It’s mine.” Saying it out loud feels like a blow to the chest, and my next inhale is shaky, but I can’t cry now, I have shit to do.

“It’s not you, hun,” Jillie says. She rounds my desk and wraps her arms over my shoulders. “It’s the stupid board that didn’t give you enough time.”

I want to argue, to clarify that it was my shoddy experiments that landed me the audit in the first place, but instead I hug her back the best I can, and she squeezes me harder than she did on launch day. It feels like permission to be emotional, but I tamp it down. Breaking down won’t solve anything.

Kri steps around the other side of my desk and rests a hand on my shoulder, rubbing his thumb back and forth. I could use one of his stellar hugs, but I think if he did I’d definitely burst into tears. I rest my hand over his, and he stacks another hand on top of mine, sandwiching my palm in warmth.

After a long, quiet moment, I say, “We need to move the plants.”

Jillie huffs, her breath ghosting over my face. "You need to take the day off."

I huff back. "If I take the day off, I'm not going to get anything done."

"That's kind of the point of taking the day," she says. She rubs my back for emphasis, then stands upright again. She examines my face, but I hold firm. If I go home now, I'm going to fall into a bottle of tequila for sure, and then the both of them would worry about me, which in turn would make me feel even worse.

I have my list of things to do, and if I wait any longer to get them done, I’m going to turn into sludge, melting so bad I can’t lift a finger to help. So what I need now is a sufficient distraction until the gravity of this news hits me like a truck, and then I can go home and have my breakdown in peace. It's a far from perfect system, but it's the only one where I come out feeling like a person instead of a burden, maintaining some form of control over the situation that's taking everything away from me.

I take a deep breath through my nose. If I put on a smile it will set off alarm bells, so I school my face into something neutral. "I'm not gonna lie, I feel like shit. But getting things sorted before I'm too depressed to function will ease my conscience."

Jillie purses her lips, unconvinced, and her gaze slides to Kri for validation. I can't see his face, but he gently squeezes my shoulder again and silently communicates something to Jillie that has her nodding.

"Let's grab the greenhouse first."

***

I don't acknowledge that this could be my last trip to the greenhouse, I don't even think it. We're just here to grab the plants and then go. I'll be back, eventually.

It hasn't quite hit yet, the decision to boot me. It sits heavy in the back of my mind, ready to spill over at any minute. I feel like I'm mitigating a breakdown that might never come, watching a pot that will never boil.

It leaves me quietly simmering away, with thoughts rising to the surface just long enough to make itself known before sinking back down.

The walk outside feels surreal. The weather is clear, the Summanian-Sun high in the sky and there's foot traffic that comes with the high-population scientific Outpost. The more people we pass, the more I feel like everyone knows. They know I failed, they know I’m on my way to cleaning out the greenhouse, they know and they’re judging my every step. And I know it’s dumb, I know it’s irrational, but I’m still anxious.

Jillie pulls me aside and ropes her arm through mine. "I called for help, I hope you don't mind."

"As long as it's not Stephen," I say, focused entirely on how my hands are clenched in my jeans pockets. Is it too much, or are my fists making weird shapes? It’s the only thing I can focus on without wanting to scream.

I can hear Stephen’s stupid tsk! in the back of my mind now. The one he makes whenever something isn’t up to par, like my outfit, or our sex, or this review. I half expect him to waltz up right now, bragging about the thousands of dollars he just racked up for his next experiment. Shaking my head only blurs the image, as opposed to falling away like I'd wanted it to. That tsk reverberates in my head again, punctuating my brain like a skipping stone along the water.

“Cass, are you sure you’re alright?” Jillie asks for the third time since we left the lab.

Each time she asks it’s another blow to the fortified wall I’ve put up, and I wish she’d stop asking because if she does, I may collapse. It's time to be a robot. Beep bop boop. I take a deep breath through my nose, holding at the top, and breathing out. “I’ll be okay.”

“That…doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Nor I,” Kri mutters behind us.

“I’ve already told you,” I steamroll forward. “You can both coddle me after we get something done.”

"I guess distractions are how some people cope too," Jillie mutters.

It's a small blessing that the greenhouse doors open when I scan my palm. My section hasn't been ransacked or destroyed. Everything is exactly how I left it.

The easiest to decide on are the non-starters, the seeds that never made it out of the ground. We only need to empty the dirt into a basket meant for the compost pile and throw the containers into a separate pile for recycling. I want to take notes on which sections never made it - the green beans and snap peas, and none of the lettuce even germinated. But there's no point now.

We set to sorting through what is and isn’t viable. Individually counting, inspecting, and deciding the fate of over two-hundred planters takes the better part of two hours, and I feel a grim sense of accomplishment at the growing pile of plastic containers to my left.

Halfway through a pallet of strawberries, there's another presence at the door. I'm turned to the side when they walk in, and my stomach drops because for a split second I think it's Stephen.

To my surprise, though, is an ento I recognize from a few months ago. Ari, their name is, Kri's friend.

I exchange a confused glance with Kri as Jillie greets Ari at the door. This raises so many questions, namely, how Jillie knows them. Did they meet after Kri showed me their lab, or is it some cosmic coincidence?

Kri shrugs all four of his arms, and I mirror the gesture with mine.

Ari greets us with a wave. "I hope I'm not intruding. I was called for help?"

Kri defaults to me with a glance, and Ari follows his gaze. I simultaneously appreciate that he didn't answer for me, and anxious that I'm now expected to respond. Four is too many, this is a two person job at most. But I couldn't turn away Jillie or Kri, I needed them here.

Ari doesn't seem offended at my pause, their expression is open and their posture relaxed. I offer them a small smile. "You're fine, we're just cleaning house."

They nod, and step over to Jillie to continue packing the equipment.

After another hour, we’re left with about two-dozen sprouts that may or may not survive, but it doesn’t matter because I don’t have the space to keep them. I’d planned on keeping the original few from the first growth, but I have yet to get them back from the board, and now I doubt that I’ll ever see them again. Dr. Rogan probably already threw them in the garbage.

I would’ve planted them, if I had physical land, that was supposed to be the next step. But now I don’t know what’s next. No path forward, no clear image to obtain, and I need a purpose again. Surviving is the name of the game now, and it’s boring as hell. It was my one chance, and if I don’t hold my own weight, I could get sent back to Earth.

Next is the sprouts, the ones that may or may not make it. I inspect each one, looking for dried-up soil, brown spots, or anything that could kill it. I keep the ones that show promise, and I empty the rest with a neutral face and toss the plastic container onto the stack.

It takes another hour for thoughts to start appearing through the fog, and another longing stare at the bag of dirt and plant matter for that thought to hit me like a truck.

I don’t want to be here anymore.

I thought I could handle it, but the longer I push things down, the more they want to bubble up again. Every third breath I’m shaking on the exhale, sniffing back tears that sting at my eyes. This really fucking sucks.

Kri is still aiding me, bringing over palettes and sitting by my side, but Jillie and Ari have parked their butts over by the computer setup, and are speaking to each other in low voices punctuated with the occasional concerned glance.

A muscle in my jaw twitches. I don’t need this much help, I should be doing this on my own. There’s too many people already. I miss my music, I miss my plants, I want to drown them all out. My heart wants to race, I can feel my lungs rearing up to hyperventilate.

And then a warm hand covers mine, and I look down and watch as Kri gently removes the planter from my grip, and presses my hand between his. His fingers slot easily between mine, first, middle, and last, and they squeeze, a reassurance. But I can’t meet his eyes, no matter how much I want to. So we sit there for a moment, and I stare at our hands and focus on the warmth instead of the crushing weight of my own disappointment.

Jillie was right, I should've taken the day off. Yet again I've pushed myself too far, and now my brain is doing even worse than it was this morning. There's still so much to do, even in the greenhouse, and I don't want to do any of it. I just want to curl into a ball and cry.

At the end of the day, we’re left with twenty-seven planters, all supporting sprouts or developing stalks. Normally, this would have me over the moon, but I'm only filled with a sense of dread. I can’t take all these home. I barely have space for my plants now, I can’t add anything else. Jillie can take a few, but I can't ask Kri or Ari to take them, it's not their problem.

I'm staring at what are effectively my children with a look of dismay as Kri steps away from me. They speak in hushed tones that I can't make out-- they're speaking Universal anyway-- when Ari clears their throat, drawing my attention

"I have a house a few kleksry-ehco of here, uh--" Ari fumbles with the words, waving a free hand when they some up short, and points towards the back of the greenhouse. "It's that way, in the forest. There's plenty of space."

"I couldn't ask you to take care of all of these," I say with dismay.

"The building is close to a lake," Kri adds. "Ari would have to genuinely attempt to kill them."

"Asxu is correct. I do not have the right thumbs."

Jillie snorts. "You mean a green thumb?"

"Is my thumb not green already?"

Jillie explains the concept to both Ari and Kri and they listen with rapt fascination, like kids at story time. Apparently their literature on our languages lacked a lot of common sayings and left them on their own. They have their own too, but many of them don't translate well. It's led to straight-forward conversations with us where they assume to take everything we say literally.

Ari explains all this after Jillie finishes her lecture, and it suddenly clicks as to why Kri has trouble with phrasing sometimes. Would he want me to be more straight-forward? I do say a lot of things off-hand, and Mom grew up in the 'hood so some of the words may come through weird without me realizing.

What else have I been lacking? What else have I not noticed because I was too focused on myself? I was so wrapped up in my own shit I didn't even realize Kri had feelings for me, so what else did I miss? I haven't been taking care of him-- I should've been more present. Maybe then I would've realized that this was coming.

Before I realize it, and Kri is standing in front of me, hands on my shoulders. "You haven't blinked in at least a minute. Are you alright?"

I huff, annoyed. “Peachy.”

Kri doesn't pick up on the sarcasm, and his head falls to one side. "You do not look well."

"Nevermind," I say, wrenching my shoulders from his grip and spinning around to start towards the piles of papers on my countertop.

The rest of the day is spent cleaning my mess in the greenhouse. Everytime I think we're done and I'm ready to leave, another box makes itself known and I'm forced to spend energy that I don't have fighting off tears.

But, gradually, everything gets done, and we clear out my station piece by piece. There's at least ten garbage bags full of papers and plant matter and dirt that need to be taken to the compost heap. Jillie and I take two each, and Ari and Kri grab the rest. I let the three of them walk ahead of me. I take one last look at the greenhouse and the empty space I'd carved out for myself over the course of two years, and then the door slides shut.

Kri hovers next to me as we trudge our way to the compost building, and he only asks how I'm doing once, but part of me wishes he'd leave me alone. I'm hollowed out, running on empty. I don't want to talk anymore, don't want to pretend to be something I'm not.

I watch the bags holding my planters run down the conveyor belt and into the black hole that is the compost chute. No one bothers me as I continue to stand there long after they're gone, and I distantly remember this morning when I threw Emmie into the recycling machinery. It feels so long ago, before I had the weight of having nothing to look forward to on my shoulders.

Kri's hand on my shoulder pulls me out of the fog. "If you are not too upset, I'd like for you to stay with me tonight."

At my unimpressed expression, he holds his palms up. "I don't mean it suggestively. I only want to be sure of your well-being."

Down the path, Jillie is already on the way back to the Life Sciences building with Ari. She's talking with her hands, which means she's excited about something, and I distantly wonder how long they're known each other.

"Kri, really, I'll be okay--"

"Cassie," he says, voice gentle yet firm, drawing my attention back to him. A command instead of a statement. "Please let me take care of you."

His expression is open, earnest, and I automatically I open my mouth to retort, but then I realize I would absolutely love not having to worry about anything else for the night, and my anxiety spikes. He shouldn't have to deal with me while I'm upset, I should be able to handle it on my own. Still, I ask, "Are you sure?"

Kri nods once, not an ounce of hesitation, and my decision is made for me. Somehow, that's easier to swallow than if I had asked. "I believe it would be best if you stayed with me."

"Probably," I say, and I mean it. Something about waking up in my own bed feels worse.

After another moment where I test his patience, I nod, and we walk away from the greenhouse and towards a future that I have no idea how to prepare for.

Chapter 14>>

#my writing #A Botanist's Guide #monster writing #alien writing #alien x human #terato #exo writing #monster love #monster lover #monster x human #monster romance #terato writing

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