#I try to polish out those mistakes before I'll post to Tumblr

[angelofchaos001]

Stranded in the Rain - Chapter 1

Link to Ao3 (Chapter also under cut)

Link to Masterpost

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Chapter 1 - Beginning

GASP!

Hatchling shot upright, desperate for air. It felt like they had been choked out, maybe even to the point of death. Perhaps that's not the best train of thought, they realized. Death was just a grim reminder of the fact that they had been stuck in a loop. Space and time had gotten so warped and tangled with each other that no matter what they did, every time they met the end of their life, they would just come back.

Except . . .

Hadn't they ended the loops?

Hadn't they ended the universe?

I . . . I remember the big flash . . . But . . . Why can't I remember anything else?!

Panic seized the young hearthian as they fought to remember even the most basic information. What were they doing? What was their goal? Who were they??

Memories flooded back to them like a cyclone slamming them down. They remembered seeing it with their own four eyes. Finding the Eye of the Universe, being taken to a strange quantum realm where nothing made sense, gathering all their close allies they'd met on the journey to bring them together for one last song, before the big bang that they could have sworn killed them happened. Feldspar . . . Solanum . . . Everyone . . . It wiped everyone out.

Evidently, it did not wipe everyone out, because they were very much here and very much alive. Alive. Am I really?

They could cling to the memories of who they were now. They were Moissan, a Hearthian in the Outer Wilds Ventures space program. They had been exploring the solar system like everyone else. And they caught in a time loop because of a statue they'd linked to.

Oddly enough, they were even still wearing their space suit. That's new, they thought, checking themselves over. No injuries. No missing pieces. Just a full tank of oxygen and a jetpack ready to launch. They didn't have their scout, which was a little upsetting, but it seemed rather odd that they were in such a pristine condition now, waking up alone.

Alone.

Whenever they'd woken up before, they'd seen Slate sitting by the campfire, roasting a marshmallow. Even if they didn't know about the loops and tried to ground Moissan several times for apparent medical reasons, not seeing the familiar hearthian's face stung. There was no campfire, not even a smoldering pile of logs. No launch pad waiting for them on the rocky cliff, their trusty ship that had carried them so far on their journey absent.

Considering everything that ship had lived through, they were surprised it wasn't here with them when they had lived it.

Arrrrgh, the ship doesn't matter right now, they thought, slowly getting to their feet. What matters is finding out where I am. Clearly, it wasn't Timber Hearth. Everything looked too . . . damp, despite the abundant plant life. They reached out for what seemed like a fern, only for the plant to shrivel away from them with a rustling noise. They gasped, intrigued and in awe of the specimen.

All the plant truly did was raise more questions, though. If everything was wet, then it couldn't be the Hourglass Twins. There was plenty of solid ground to stand on and a lack of fog, so it wasn't Dark Bramble (thankfully). It seemed too stable to be like the collapsing Brittle Hollow, and Giant's Deep would have been far wetter considering the whole planet was an ocean. None of the moons - Not even the Quantum Moon - matched this unique location either. It almost reminded them of the Stranger.

Almost.

Around Hatchling seemed to just be walls and a very tight, cramped room. Small plants, almost like some kind of moss, stretched across the floor like a natural carpet. They almost felt tempted to touch it, but one of the most basic safety lessons was 'Don't interact with things you don't know about'.

Ignoring that rule is sorta what got me into all of this in the first place, isn't it.

Moissan really just didn't feel like taking off their suit for moss-touching purposes. Instead, they focused on the room. The walls, other than having strange flora growing along them as well, seemed fairly sturdy. They took a moment, curled up their hand, and punched at the wall to test it's integrity. OWWWW . . . Pain exploded in their digits as they uncurled them. Solid metal wall, got it. Owww, ow ow, why did I do that?

They'd been expecting dirt . . . maybe packed dirt, if they were lucky. Not full-on metal. They looked straight ahead of themselves, and saw the one wall that was different than the others. Embedded into the wall was a small tunnel, maybe about the size of Hatchling's head if they really squeezed themselves in there. Attached to it seemed some kind of contraption, something made of a smooth metal that looked . . . in a decently well-kept state.

Maybe this place has intelligent life on it. Naively, they found themselves hoping it was some kind of familiarity, such as another hearthian, a Nomai, or even an Owlk would be nice to see. No, stupid thought, they told themselves, facepalming. The Owlks didn't (couldn't) leave their dream world, and all the Nomai in the system had died from the Interloper and it's densely packed load of ghost matter.

Well, all but one. Moissan thought of Solanum again. They'd met her in such a strange place, such a strange time, and most certainly the last thing they ever expected to see. Guess it's really back to being 'all of them', though.

The big bang played out in their mind again. Had it been some kind of crazy dream? The heat and fire felt too real for them to believe that. They could recall every second in the blast, as few as there were, and the moment pain seared through every fiber of their being before becoming a pleasant nothingness. My universe was already doomed. It was a strange thought to come to terms with, being born at the end of a universe. If every path would lead to my doom, then I'm glad I could at least build something new for those after me.

If Hatchling survived, there wasn't really telling if the others had. The feeling of that one end felt so real. Was it because of the intensity? The emotions they felt in that moment of terror and awe? Perhaps because they knew that this time, they wouldn't come back? Removing the warp core from Ash Twin ended the loops, after all, and if nothing else, they had absolutely taken that core out. It just wasn't possible that this was another loop.

What else could explain this, though?

Too many questions buzzed in their head like angry flies, numbing their brain to anything else. They tried to ground themselves by looking at the tunnel again, studying the metal. It appeared to be some kind of mechanism of moving parts to close off the tunnel. Gears sat underneath large metal slabs, though they were currently quiet and still, not pulling anything along. On either side of the passage, there was small bits of interlocking metal that they guessed fit together to fill the small tunnel. But why?

They'd figure it out at some point, probably. They'd been spending their life figuring out mysteries, after all, hadn't they? A small mechanical contraption was nothing compared to creating another universe.

. . . How did every thought loop back around to the end of their world and the beginning of a new one?

Being alone with their thoughts wasn't entirely pleasant. For one, Hatchling was confused about a lot of things their mind had already entertained before. They thought that the release of death would be a nice closure to their action-filled life of solving the Nomai's greatest mystery. After all the trials, they could rest easy knowing that at least there would be something for future planets to exist in. Instead, they were both relieved and terrified that they were still alive.

Brushing past all the confused thoughts, though, being alone was what made things even more awful. In their travels, they had never been truly alone before. There was always the network of other explorers to chat with, Nomai scrolls to read, the Ship's Log to update and check over, and if they got lost too badly, the signalscope could at least bring them back to something.

Pulling out the device now did almost nothing. No matter what frequency Hatchling tuned into or where they pointed it, no readings popped up. It was almost like the horrible silence and loneliness they'd felt in the Eye, awestruck by the new setting but oh-so-scared of what lie in wait for them.

Most of all, though, Hatchling felt . . . sad. Nothing but true sadness lined every thought, thinking of the world they knew. Coming to terms with the inevitable end didn't mean they had to like it. But now, this meant that it was really just them on their own. Everyone else was still most likely gone, gone forever. For the first time since becoming a space explorer . . . Moissan felt like crying.

It wasn't like the frightened tears that threatened them when the anglerfish let out their awful, shrieking roars, certain doom following the noise.

Nor was it the happy ones they'd nearly wept when they saw everyone gathered together, playing their music one last time around a campfire.

It was just . . . sad. And lonely.

Did everyone else get to die with that last happy memory? If so, then . . . why not me?

Am I stuck because I'm the one who did it?

Because I knew about the looping?

Or am I being called out for a greater purpose, just like last time?

Moissan really hoped they weren't about to become the universe's favorite specimen to call on when in need. One lifetime of adventure was enough for them. They didn't want (or need) more stress to be the great unseen hero all over again. They sniffled once, then twice, before they felt the unfamiliar sting as their eyes watered. Can I do this alone? Whatever it is I need to do?

It felt as if every thought was too painful to read, too much for such a fragile heart to bear. Tears dripped onto their suit, rolling off the waterproof fabric as the reality of everything truly caught up to them. If everyone else had to die and yet I survived, me, of everyone . . . great trees, I'm sorry it had to be this way. It wasn't what I wanted. It was what had to be done. There wasn't any other option.

The song that almost brought them to joyous tears now haunted Hatchling like a ghost, sailing in the air around them and involuntarily forcing the air in their throat to form a faint humming along with it. Each part added a new distinct layer, the full song being beautiful enough in both sound and meaning.

The plucky, strong banjo that carried the melody. Riebeck may have been scared of space, but they were still bold enough to face that fear in some way or another.

A high-pitched whistle, giving the banjo a lighter partner. Age didn't take a toll on Esker, even if his place in life had come to the end of it's usefulness.

Droning and yet still warbling, the harmonica sang back to them. Despite their isolation and situation, Feldspar had been invaluable in their quest for the Eye.

Carrying the steady beat were those drums. Even if they had given Chert some existential dread, they had skill at their instrument, that was for sure.

Delicate and faint, the flute gave everything a new meaning. Gabbro really had tried their best, hadn't they? The only other one to remember the endless looping.

Cutting the noise clear, the key strokes of the Nomai instrument shone through. Solanum had been the last Nomai in the system, and without her, they weren't sure they would have made it this far to begin with.

Lastly, the haunting, ethereal strings of the Owlks made everything feel that much less real. The Prisoner, as Hatchling called them, was the one they had to thank for them being where they were now. If they had never let the Eye call out again . . . (That was not a reality Hatchling wanted to think about)

All seven of them.

Gathered at the fire.

Playing together.

Happily.

Moissan felt like curling up and waiting for death to take them all over again as more tears flowed, a long-dried well inside of them being opened and the water inside rushing out. Between the sobbing, they gasped for air like they would lose it, their vision a blurred mess as they tried to stop thinking about everything they'd lost. About the lives that had been so intertwined with theirs, only to be ripped away like nothing had changed.

Alone.

Alone and lost, with nothing but the feeling of a mistake clinging to my gills.

No matter how badly they wanted to find out where this place was, find shelter, and explore, look for any kind of familiar sight . . . they couldn't bring themselves to move. They just sank back down to the ground, the moss squishing beneath them as it stretched for the delicious tears that continued to fall. They couldn't bear the idea of getting out of this small, cramped box. They didn't want to stay, either, but this was at least safe.

Unless another supernova is going to happen in twenty-two minutes, in which case nowhere will be safe without my ship.

Why couldn't they think just one happy thought? One thing to help claw their mind out of the mental pit it was sinking deeper and deeper into was all they needed. The boost to get up, put their helmet back on, and try to find a way out to explore. But if felt like all they could do was sit there, lying on the floor, crying and mourning for the loss of friends, home, and sanctuary. Not even the knowledge that in the grand scheme of things, they had been astronomical in saving this place of existence, was enough to make them move. Every limb felt heavy, every bit of energy dedicated to sobbing and choking on air.

Did anything they do truly matter in the end?

What is my purpose here?

Hatchling found themselves almost wishing they were dead, happy with their friends in whatever kind of afterlife awaited them all (if there was one), rather than stuck here, confused and scared on what to do. The damp moss around them became a poor comfort for their weeping heart and soul, but it was comfort enough. As they continued crying, they began to tire. Lying on the ground, with somewhat spongy plants as a bed, sleep and it's numbing, peaceful bliss found a way to them.

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