#grif is the most normal guy in the show but simmons forced his hand into neurosis

[seapotty]

the nightmare roomies. donut does not get enough credit for living with them for 10 years

#rvb #red vs blue #dick simmons #dexter grif #my art #grif is the most normal guy in the show but simmons forced his hand into neurosis

[rubykgrant]

(I'm feeling nostalgic... so here is the first genuine lovey-dovey Grimmons thing I wrote. It fits into the larger plot of my story-line, with Simmons getting lots of Character Development by realizing his parents are awful, and also Church and Tex are back with the AI Fragments because I said so. For Grif and Simmons, I really wanted the moment when they finally connect to happen in a way that almost mirrors the first conversation with them we see. I also wanted to show that they're still annoying dorks who bicker, but now cuddling and kissing can happen. They're each affection-starved for different reasons, and co-dependent as heck, so now they can finally enjoy each other~)

Finally, he was done with the paperwork.

Under most circumstances, Simmons enjoyed paperwork; it was a methodical process that allowed him to both focus AND zone-out. He was also very good at organizing and filling-out forms. The best kind of work didn’t just keep you busy, it was also satisfying. Right now… he just wanted it to be over and done with. He actually SKIPPED a few things, just to make it go quicker. 10 years ago, this would have caused Simmons to have a flustered panic-attack. Heck, it would have bothered him to leave something mildly incomplete 5 years ago. Well, he wasn’t the same Simmons as 5, 10, or 15 years ago… past-Simmons was done, and today-Simmons had more important things to worry about.

He just wanted to go see Grif.

They had FINALLY gotten used to just being able to hang-out again, now that all the… (what words were there to describe what had happened with his family?)… DRAMA with his parents was over. Simmons still felt so embarrassed about it; he’d not only been stupid, but perfectly willing to be deceived and used… but could you blame a guy for being tricked, when the ones tricking him were his own mother and father, and the trick in question was making him think they finally loved him, after years of being neglected and rejected? Simmons certainly blamed himself, but his friends reminded him often that it hadn’t been all his fault. Finally, he could do more than just resent his parents. He could flatly hate them, and simply ignore them. They were both gone and out of his life now, and it was on HIS terms. He was done with them, and looking forward to being with his friends again, being with GRIF again… but then more stuff happened.

More stuff ALWAYS happened.

At least it hadn’t been too much stuff this time. Some evil jerks who wanted to scan the brains of soldiers, thus creating new AI fragments… oh, and the evil jerks were using really funky boot-leg equipment that killed whoever got scanned. Really bad, and certainly a major inconvenience (especially when Simmons and the rest of his group had gotten kid-napped to be forced into the scanning process), but it had been a fairly straight-forward thing to deal with. Which they did. None of them had died, mostly thanks to the fact that Church and Tex could still do their own AI trick, plus some help from the handful of other AIs that liked to hang out in Church’s head.

Sigma had helped Simmons… which was a little unnerving at first, but ultimately OK. Sigma hadn’t tried to take over his body or destroy his mind. It had actually been kinda cool, working with the AI… and the results had spoken for themselves; fighting for your life was indeed a great motivator, but Sigma had made Simmons dig deeper for the things he really wanted.

Being connected with Sigma had been the reason for the majority of the paperwork. People wanted to know what it had been like, how it had worked… and while that was a fascinating process (one Simmons would normally like to discuss at length), some of it had involved thoughts that were very… personal. It was nobody’s business but his. Sigma knew, because he had literally been in Simmons’ brain. Simmons wasn’t exactly trying to keep any of this a secret, but still; his thoughts, his feelings.

(It had been overwhelming, but also exhilarating, looking at the situation in simple terms, these people had taken him away from everything he wanted, they had taken him away from everything he DESERVED, and he wasn’t going to let them get away with it, he wasn’t going to be pushed around, he was going to PUSH BACK, he was going to survive this situation and nothing was going to stop him, because he was smart enough to solve this problem, but he was more than just smart, he was strong, he was determined, and he had nothing holding him back…)

First they had to deal with stupid problems caused by evil jerks, and THEN he had to deal with all that paperwork. Simmons blew through it (he was internally getting a kick out of how much this would have driven his previous self crazy), and only cared about ONE thing; finding Grif. They hadn’t been able to see each other or even talk for WEEKS. That was horrible all on its own, but now… it was different. He was different.

In his search for Grif, Simmons winds up running around the facility, asking everybody he meets if they’d seen “the Orange One” (they all knew who the Reds and Blues were, but not everybody had the names down). Simmons finally finds a Grif, but it is the OTHER Grif (the one who wouldn’t recognize ANYBODY by their colors).

“Kai!” he calls out to her and waves to get her attention.

She stops in the hallway, and seems to send out irritated vibes as Simmons jogs up to her.

“Hey, I’m looking for your brother… where is he? I thought he’d stick around when we were done answering all the questions about what happened, but he’s gone-”

“Yeah, he doesn’t want to talk to you right now,” she says in a defensive tone.

That throws Simmons way the heck off. He blinks inside his helmet and tries to process what he just heard.

“What? Wh-why?” he honestly has no clue.

“Uh, maybe because you’ve been making fun of him ever since you came back?” she’s crossed her arms now, looking beyond angry even without her expression showing.

“I… I haven’t been making fun of him! I mean, we joke with each other all the time, playful insults and stuff, but I haven’t even been doing THAT lately… seriously, what’s wrong? What did I do?”

“Oh please, ever since you figured out he actually meant it when he said…” she paused there, trailing off. Simmons knew what she meant. It was the ‘I love you’. Grif had finally told Simmons how he felt, and Simmons had… misunderstood. No, it had totally gone right over his head. Because, despite how smart he considered himself to be, Simmons also knew he could be a moron. “… you’ve been PICKING ON HIM! Now that you came back and figured out how he felt, you’ve been picking on him, and just- just being a total ass-hat about it! So guess what, he doesn’t want to talk to you!”

That didn’t just throw him for a loop… Simmons felt like somebody just tossed him off a building, and now he was free-falling, flipping through the air at terminal velocity.

“WHAT? NO!” he HAD to make her understand. “I wasn’t picking on him, or making fun of him! I- I was FLIRTING with him! I thought that… I just wanted him to know I felt the same way, but without it being a big deal? I thought if I did a big romantic confession or something, it would make him feel awkward… so I was just trying to, like… flirt? But in teasing way?”

“OH. MY. GOD.” Kai dropped her arms… and then raised them up again, shaking her hands in front of his visor. “You were trying to FLIRT? That was you FLIRTING?”

“Um, yes?”

“DUDE! HAVE YOU EVER EVEN FLIRTED BEFORE?”

“N-no… not really?” his voice has turned into a meek little squeak.

“SO WHY WOULD YOU TRY IT NOW?”

“I don’t know…” in retrospect, Simmons can now see how stupid this had been.

“This whole time, my brother just thought you were mocking him! And you were FLIRTING! He tells you he loves you, and you don’t get it, then he tries to get OVER you, and YOU decide to start flirting… I can’t believe it… I swear, you are BOTH so HOPELESS!” she groans, then takes a deep breath. “OK, listen up. He freaking CONFESSED to you, after being in love with you for like… at least 10 years. He’s not gonna take you seriously if keep trying to tease him. You need to be DIRECT. You need to be HONEST. You need to do a BIG ROMANTIC CONFESSION.”

She pointed down the hallway to her right, and gave Simmons a shove in that direction.

“He’s outside, on the look-out corner over there. Now go and tell my brother you’re in love with him BEFORE I KILL YOU! AND NOBODY WILL EVER FIND YOUR BODY!”

“Right! Got it! Going to fix this now!” he was fairly certain she COULD get away with murder if she wanted, but Simmons was more concerned with finding Grif to make the guy UNDERSTAND.

This whole time… Simmons had been calling him cute, and lover-boy… but Grif thought Simmons was mocking him. He must feel AWFUL. That hadn’t been his intention at all. Why were they so bad at this? Why couldn’t they ever be on the same damn page? The short answer was, they were BOTH morons.

Simmons sprinted down the hall, dodging random people on the way… if they knew why he was running, they’d probably think this was like a scene out of a rom-com, and he was trying to catch somebody at the airport. Well, that was almost right; he certainly felt like if he didn’t find Grif and talk to him IMMEDIATELY, this was going to be a lost cause. You can’t expect a person to keep waiting, hoping, for years and years and… it had already been long enough. Simmons might even be just barely too late right now. Oh NO, he had to find Grif, tell him truth, he had to FIX THIS!

He should have said something years ago… but in his defense, Simmons hadn’t realized what was happening. How could he? In the beginning, he hadn’t even LIKED Grif, and that was supposed to be first step when you actually fell in love with somebody, right? You like them. Grif and Simmons had a very rocky start. By the time Simmons DID start to like him, well… what was he supposed to think? This certainly wasn’t a conventional relationship. Not that Simmons had a lot of experience with ANY relationships at all; his home life with his family had been a nightmare. They didn’t love each other, not in a genuine and affectionate way, and they certainly didn’t love him. He never had any real friends. Most kids hated his guts, either because he was too much of a little smarty-pants or not smart ENOUGH. Whatever the reason, nobody liked him. He never dated anybody either… he knew what dating was supposed to look like, though. Simmons watched movies, he read books. He could occasionally see real people who were really in love (or at least seemed to be). He just never got to experience it himself. How was Simmons supposed to recognize that he was falling in love with somebody, when he had no personal frame of reference for it?

His relationship with Grif had always been weird, but it was THEIRS. It was just like that with them. Eventually, Simmons realized he liked Grif, and they were friends despite all the bickering (maybe even a little BECAUSE of the bickering)… and you DEFINITELY shouldn’t be having cutesy-thoughts about your friend. Simmons assumed there must have just been something wrong with him… and if he ever let Grif know, it would ruin the weird relationship they had. Grif wouldn’t want to hang out with him or talk to him anymore, which was the worst thing ever, because Simmons DID like having him as a friend, so what was wrong with him? Why did stupid thoughts keep popping into his head, and why… WHY… did he occasionally have DREAMS that went a LOT further than “cutesy”? You don’t dream about your friends like THAT. YOU JUST DON’T. Something was wrong with him, but it wasn’t his fault, he had no control over dumb stuff his brain did while he was unconscious, and if he just didn’t say anything, then it would be OK.

After the incident on Chorus, Simmons had thought the whole problem would just be solved; something had finally happened, something that was outside of his control, and so he didn’t have to worry about it. He didn’t need to come up with a reason or an excuse. Something had happened, and it had happened with Grif, and now… he could stop trying so hard to ignore it or explain it. The choice was out of his hands. No more pressure to make a decision. They could figure out what this meant TOGETHER, and things would be fine… except no, nothing EVER was that simple. They got caught (thankfully, not in the act. Enough time had passed for them to recover some composure... and their clothes), and Grif had been beyond embarrassed. That had been like a slap in the face to Simmons; Grif didn’t want to talk about it, or even think about it. It was just a crazy situation, caused by Tucker’s stupid sword, and it was pointless to dwell on it.

Simmons dwelled on it, because his brain couldn’t let things go… and yeah, it had hurt. He’d been rejected before. Many times. He basically expected it whenever he started talking to another person, regardless of who they were. Was he trying to make a friend? Was he trying to impress an authority figure? Was he trying to ask somebody out on a date? Nobody ever wanted him. Which wasn’t exactly fun, but he was used to it. Now Grif didn’t even want him. For a little while after Chorus, Simmons had been terrified that Grif wouldn’t want him at ALL, not even as a friend. The two of them had both been rejects TOGETHER, and somehow that made things OK. Grif was so chill, and Simmons was so up-tight... they cancelled each other out. Or maybe it was more like they complimented each other. They clashed too, oh YES, but no matter how often that clashing happened, they still stayed together. In the after-math of Chorus, that wasn't true anymore. This is what he’d been afraid of, doing something stupid that would ruin their relationship (and just what WAS their relationship, anyway?).

Then they had arrived on Iris, and things had gone back to normal… Simmons didn’t hesitate for one moment to fall back into their old routine of talking, bickering, and joking. That was good, that was safe. That was what he wanted. Except, part of him wanted something else. Part of him wanted to say more when they talked, part of him wanted to get closer, part of him wanted… he wasn’t even sure WHAT. He just wanted, and all that WANT was directed at Grif. Why? You don’t want stuff like that from your friend. Why did Simmons even want Grif at all? What was wrong with him? When Grif had "quit" the group, Simmons internally felt broken. He kept doing what he needed to do, because what other option did he have? Just curl up on the ground in a ball, and die? He felt like doing exactly that... and it wasn't FAIR, it wasn't fair that Grif could just push him away and not care, it wasn't fair that Grif didn't NEED him around the way Simmons needed Grif. Thankfully that hadn't lasted; Grif came back. Simmons should have done something right then, told him him something... just SOMETHING, to make Grif understand... but Simmons still didn't understand it himself. He didn't understand why he felt empty without Grif around...

Well, Simmons had finally figured it out; he had been falling in love with Grif as the years went by (it was so obvious and simple when you said it like that), and he was too much of a dink to see that for what it was. He’d never been in love before, or been able to see an up-close example of what love really was… just second-hand glimpses at other people from an emotional distance. He had never been able to relate to any of it. When Simmons found himself right there in middle of it happening, he had no clue… it was love. Love. When you like somebody, and want somebody, and NEED somebody, and have all kinds of cutesy-thoughts about somebody, and dreams that are on the more mature side of romantic about somebody… there is a fairly good chance that you love them. The evidence added up. Simmons already had one missed opportunity with Grif, he can’t lose him again.

He finds the doors that open up to the large look-out area… and there is Grif. Standing over by the railing, still in his armor. It feels good just SEEING him again. It feels good knowing Grif isn’t far away, out of reach… but Simmons can’t relax yet. He still has to talk to him, and he has to make it good. Because that’s his best friend over there, that’s his favorite person, that’s the man he’s in love with (oh damn, his stomach rolls at that thought, but not in a bad way, he’s just such a bundle of nerves). Simmons has to tell him all that, and make sure Grif knows it is TRUE.

“Grif, hey…” Simmons slows down, and catches his breath, walking up to the railing. “I’ve been… I’ve been looking for you. We need to talk…”

“Yeah, well… I don’t wanna talk to you…” he doesn’t just sound sulky or pouty. Grif sounds downright miserable.

“Grif… c’mon, please… we can always talk to each other,” Simmons is trying not to panic… he can’t stand the idea of NOT being able to talk to Grif, especially when Grif is RIGHT THERE.

“FINE, whatever… you talk. I don’t got nothing to say,”

Simmons was going to ignore the bad grammar for now. Priorities.

“Grif, I… I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t understand what you meant when you said you loved me…” he sees Grif shuffle and tense up at the mention of this. “I’m sorry you had to put up with me being so oblivious for such a long time. I’m sorry that when I finally figured it out, I started teasing you… I SWEAR, I wasn’t trying to make fun of you! I was… look, I’ve never actually dated anybody in my whole life. You know that… so I’m just- I’m BAD at this, but I was TRYING to flirt with you. Really!”

Grif turns away from him, muttering.

“Yeah, right…”

“Grif, no! I mean it! I was flirting with you, I just suck at it!” oh, Grif doesn’t believe him. That’s not good… OK, time to get real. “So… I’m just going to tell you how I feel, honestly. Alright? I love you, Grif…”

“No you don’t…”

“Uh, yes I do?”

"You don't,"

"I really DO?"

“NO! No you don’t! Why WOULD you?”

“Why would I… Grif, how could I NOT love you? I like talking to you more than anybody else I’ve ever known in my entire LIFE! You drive me crazy with how annoying you are, but you also make me laugh so much I forget about everything else! When I make YOU laugh, it's like I really accomplished something, because nobody else is as good at it as me! When I’m with you, I feel so stupid, but you also make me feel like I actually matter! Sometimes, I literally can’t stop thinking about you! You take over my head! A big portion of my life practically revolves around you!” Simmons was trying to step closer to him… but he just kept moving away. “Grif, you’re my best friend. You know exactly how irritating and weird I am, and you still want to be around me. I know all your bad habits, and I can’t imagine NOT being with you. No matter how I try to picture what I want in my life, you’re always there. You make me happy, and I want to be the person who makes YOU happy. If I’m not in goddamn love with you, then I don’t know WHAT the hell is going on!”

Simmons took a step toward him, and tried to put a hand on his shoulder. Grif shook him off.

“Grif, I-”

“No! Just stop it! You don’t… you DON’T…”

Simmons refused to give up. Maybe if this was just about Grif not feeling the same way, he could let it go… but that wasn’t what was happening; this was Grif being so used to feeling unwanted, he couldn’t accept the fact that Simmons was truly in love with him. Grif could do whatever he needed to do for himself, he could go ahead and move on if that was what he really wanted… but first, he had to KNOW. He had to know Simmons really MEANT IT. Simmons needs to do something… something direct, something that can’t possible be misinterpreted.

He reaches up and takes off his helmet, setting it down by his feet.

That done, Simmons reaches over and begins to take off Grif’s. At first, Grif doesn’t notice what is happening, then he tries to jump away… but Simmons has his hand on the clasps, and Grif can’t escape. The orange helmet comes off with a few little clicks, and Simmons places it down with his maroon one.

Grif turns his head down, and leans away… like he’s trying to hide his face. Simmons can see that parts of his cheeks are shining in the sunlight; at some point during this conversation, Grif had cried behind his visor. Maybe out of frustration, or simple sadness… but either way, he had cried because of Simmons. This almost makes Simmons lose his nerve, it nearly causes him to choke and freeze-up, but he reminds himself that this is something he WANTS to do, something he NEEDS to do.

“Grif, look at me… look at me…” his voice comes out soft, but certain. Quiet and gentle, but still calm.

Grif hears this, and he can’t NOT listen… because he doesn’t get to hear Simmons sound like that very often. He hears Simmons whine, and squawk, and screech, and babble all the time. He also hears Simmons laugh, and complain, and grumble, and joke a lot. This was different. There was something PLEADING in that tone, and Grif can’t say no. There was also something very CONFIDENT in that tone as well, and Grif can’t ignore it.

He looks up at Simmons, and it feels like too much; Grif has been trying to forget how he feels but now here is this face… Grif sees his eyes, his hair, the way his smile pulls just a little to one side, and it reminds Grif of a million other things. Every conversation they ever had, every time they had a petty argument over nothing, every time they cracked each other up until it felt like they would die, every time they really DID almost die but somehow survived. Grif sees the metal that frames one of his eyes, and part of his jawline… and that reminds Grif of the fact that they match. Grif has patches of skin that came from Simmons, and right now Simmons can see that too. He can see Grif’s face, Grif can see his, and Grif sees so much MORE; Grif sees everything he knows about Simmons, everything he hates about Simmons, everything he LOVES about Simmons, and it feels like too MUCH.

“I love you,” Simmons tells him, that same tone… soft, certain, quiet, gentle, calm… pleading and confident.

It hits Grif right then; Simmons knows exactly what he’s saying… and he means it. Grif’s heart doesn’t just skip a beat; he practically feels it shudder in his chest (and really, this heart came from Simmons, he literally has Simmons’ heart, and it must still be in cahoots with Simmons, because right now this heart is TORTURING him).

Before Grif can think about what to do or say in response, Simmons is tilting his head down. Still holding on to Grif's shoulders, ever-so-slightly pulling him closer. Now Grif can’t see his face anymore… it is too close, just a soft blur… he's blocking out the sun...

Simmons is kissing him.

Simmons had leaned down, until there was no more room between them, and very softly pressed his mouth against Grif’s… except it was a little more than that… Simmons had parted his lips, just slightly, and when they touched, his lips closed around Grif’s. Now Grif was really starting to notice the way this felt, the smooth curve of Simmons' lower lip, the warmth, it was so light and gentle… just barely a kiss, but ABSOLUTELY a kiss. Since when did this nerd know how to kiss? Who told him he could do that? Grif’s breath stalls, and he doesn’t trust himself to let it go… it’ll come out as a choked sob of relief, and that might turn into something else, like a full-on crying fit, so instead he just holds it and shuts his eyes.

After a moment, that both seems like a long time and yet too short, Simmons leans away… now Grif lets himself exhale, and it DOES sound shaky and choked, as if he’s never been kissed before, as if he’s never kissed Simmons before (but Grif himself had insisted that what happened on Chorus didn’t count, it hadn’t been “real”, they should just forget about it… this was entirely different than Chorus; this wasn’t in a dark closet, this was out in broad daylight. They couldn’t blame this on a magical sci-fi alien temple that turned your brain off and turned the rest of you ON. This was deliberate, this was intentional, this was REAL).

Grif blinks, seeing Simmons again; he looks relieved, like he’s finally done something that he NEEDED to do. His eyes are still closed, and Grif can hear him sigh softly… no ragged, strangled gasp from him. Well, that’s not fair. Grif can feel something inside himself, what most people would probably call “butterflies in your stomach”, it was also like static electricity sparking in his gut, and now HE needs to do something, because that kiss had NOT been long enough, he’s been thinking about kissing Simmons in the back of his mind for more than 10 years, and if they can just do this now, if they can just kiss each other, then… then Grif is going to get the most he can out of it.

Grif’s hands come up to grip the edges of Simmons’ armor, roughly pulling him back, the metal on their chests making a clunking noise. He also brings their faces together again, their lips touching again, and REALLY kisses Simmons. Grif can hear him make a startled little hum, but it is a pleasantly surprised noise, and it turns into a sigh of gratitude. Actually... it was in the neighborhood of sounding like a moan. Now that he’s not in a state of shock, Grif can actually kiss Simmons like he means it… and he DOES mean it. He presses his mouth against Simmons', firmly but tenderly, and shows Simmons how kissing works; you nod your head into the movements of your lips, as smoothly as possible, until it feels like you're both floating in the ocean, letting the waves roll you. That's how you kiss somebody... like a wave. The way Simmons responded was warm, welcoming... slowly nodding along, matching what Grif was doing, and it really was like being in the ocean, rising and falling with the waves...

Those butterflies Grif felt before have escaped from his stomach; now he feels that fluttering all over his body, down his legs, through his arms to the tips of his fingers, filling up his head. More than just little sparks of static… Grif has a whole thunderstorm inside him, and he knows what it is; the feeling of wanting somebody, needing them, all kinds of other sappy words… yearning, longing… and finally being able to just HAVE something with them, finally being able to give part of yourself to them, and they want it too… you BOTH want this, you want each other. You HAVE each other.

This was just a little kiss, no big deal… except it was, because it was SIMMONS, and Grif has been talking to him for years, standing next to him for years, thinking about him for years, and he has been holding himself back from doing anything even remotely similar to this. No matter how close they were physically, Grif still made sure there was enough distance between them to be safe, you could still call it “platonic”, no touching except the occasional punch in the arm or a short bro-hug. No matter how close they were emotionally, Grif still made sure not to get too deep about his feelings, never reveal how much he thought about Simmons or how often those thoughts were tinted with something romantic. As close as it was possible to get to somebody… without being TOO close.

Whatever line had been drawn in the proverbial sand to separate them, it had been crossed… and erased. Grif was now so close to Simmons, they were touching. Not just touching, KISSING. Grif was kissing Simmons. Simmons was kissing Grif. After years and years and YEARS, this was actually happening.

When the thunder storm finally seems to be over, when the butterflies finally seem to calm down, Grif eases his mouth away… and hears Simmons make a sound sort of like a quiet, uneven laugh. Not exactly his nervous giggle, and not quite his I’m-so-tired-that-everything-seems-funny chuckle. This sounded a lot more satisfied and breathless… and just a little bit needy, like he wanted more. This was a laugh just for Grif, because Grif had kissed it out of him. He wants to hear that again and again, kiss Simmons again and again.

“I love you, Grif…” Simmons tells him, pressing forehead gently against Grif’s, eyes still shut, his expression one of simple contentment.

“… I love you too, Simmons,” Grif replies, and it occurs to him that he can do that now; reply, say it back, or say it first and then hear the reply. He hears his own voice crack, he can’t help it.

Just a few minutes ago, Grif had been resigned to giving up on Simmons… he couldn’t stand being around the guy anymore. It was too painful. Impossible to be friends with somebody who thinks how you feel is just a big joke, and now Grif couldn’t even ignore it and pretend nothing had changed. EVERYTHING had changed. He hated it, and he was just so DONE dealing with Simmons. No more having conversations that didn’t go anywhere, no more wasting his time pining away like a stupid middle school kid with a crush. He was too old to feel like this. It was time to just move on…

NOW everything had changed again. Simmons had told him he felt the same way. Simmons had kissed him. Simmons was still clinging to him, still nuzzling his face against Grif’s, still being so affectionate… it could just be like this, always. From now on, when they’re standing around, one of them can reach out, and then they can hold each other. When they’re talking, bickering, laughing, they can lean in and kiss each other. They can do all of that… suddenly having all these options is overwhelming Grif, all these possibilities that aren’t just silly little love-sick fantasies anymore, but REALITY.

“Well… that only took us, what? 10, 12 years to figure out?” Simmons softly murmurs.

A laugh escapes Grif, making him shake, and Simmons as well.

“We might be stupid…” Grif leans away just enough to properly look at Simmons.

“Oh, we’re major idiots, no question!” Simmons agrees, opening his eyes, smile spreading across his face. Grif grins back at him, and without knowing it, they both think ‘I love making him smile’.

“You’re supposed to be the SMART one,” Grif tells him.

“Yeah, but I remember what I said? You MAKE me stupid. My braincells are allergic to you,”

That does it, Grif explodes into laughter, and has to bury his face into Simmons’ neck (he suddenly feels like he desperately needs to be right there, right in the little spot where the kevlar under-suit ends and he can see the exposed skin. Grif is lucky he’s already so close, because for a sec, he was practically frantic to get his face to that little spot), where he both hears and feels the vibrations of Simmons laughing right along with him.

“You c-can’t ever do this to me again, man…” Grif tries to catch his breath, and also not move his face away, because he feels pretty good right where he is (he’s gonna have to try cuddling this close to Simmons again sometime, when they don’t have layers of armor in the way. He’s gonna have to cuddle Simmons a LOT). “You can’t make feel like I don’t have a chance, and then give me hope, and then…”

“No, don’t worry. No more miscommunications,” Simmons promises, turning his face just a little bit so it is nestled in Grif’s hair (thinking to himself how nice it is… they just fit together like this, each of them fills up the space for the other. He's going to enjoy holding Grif when they're both wearing something more comfortable, no armor to ruin it). “And I won’t… I won’t keep teasing you anymore-”

“Well, y’know… maybe that’s not so bad after all,” Grif mumbles in a weak attempt to sound nonchalant.

“What? Grif, you were so upset about it! That’s why you were avoiding me!”

“Pfff, dude, that was waaay back-”

“Way back 11 minutes ago?!” it is impossible to take that grumpy tone seriously, because Simmons still has his arms wrapped around Grif’s body, and he still has his face in Grif’s hair.

“Yeah, way back then. That was when I thought you were saying that stuff sarcastically… but now I know you MEANT it. Now I know all those things you told me weren’t insults, they were COMPLIMENTS. You can keep that up, that’s fine with me…”

“Grif- you are so- you’re such an ass-backwards, contrary, son of a-”

“Oh, are you gonna talk dirty to me, too? That’s cool, I can get into that…” Grif feels Simmons squeeze him tighter, and for a few seconds worries if maybe he stepped too far and really made Simmons mad (which would be horrible, they were FINALLY getting somewhere, somewhere GOOD), but then he hears Simmons sputter and feels those vibrations against his face again; Simmons was laughing.

Grif grins against his neck, and waits for the laughter to come to a slow stop.

“Grif, do you remember what I said when I realized how you felt?” Simmons asks him, still out of breath from left-over giggles. “I asked you what you loved about me, right? Like, if you loved my laugh or my eyes? You never answered me… that’s why I started trying to flirt with you. I thought if I said what I loved about YOU, it would make it easier for you to say what you loved about ME,”

“Oh… OK, I can kinda see why you might have thought that would work,” Grif isn’t sure who messed up worse… they both should have known better.

“So?” Simmons asks.

“So… what?”

“SO, I’ve given you PLENTY of compliments…” Simmons prompts him.

“Ah, OK, um… so…” Grif reminds himself that he’s already said the most important thing, this was just the icing on the cake. “Yeah… you asked if I loved your laugh… and I do, but not just that. I really… I love your voice, I love the way you sound, I love the way you talk when you get all excited about something you care about, I love when you get all ticked-off and rant about something you hate, I love how you sound when you’re explaining something even when I don’t understand it, I love your- what’s it called, the way a person pronounces things, the- the something, the speaking rhythm? No, that's not it...”

“My speech pattern?” Simmons offers helpfully.

“YES, your speech pattern, see I love that too, when you know the words for stuff I forget about, and I love when you mess-up words like a dork, it's cute, and yeah I love your speech pattern, that’s why I fall asleep when we talk all night, not because you’re boring, but listening to you calms me down, and… FUCK, I did the thing where I can’t shut up again!” Grif can feel a small pressure on top of his head; he’s pretty sure that’s Simmons kissing him up there, and that makes him realize Simmons might like HIS speech pattern, too.

“Grif, if you think YOU like to hear compliments, you need to remember who the hell I am!” this makes them both laugh again, and it feels so surreal; having a stupid little argument that was really more fun that anything, while also being snuggled tightly together, with Grif basically kissing Simmons’ neck because his mouth kept touching that little area of skin, and Simmons basically kissing Grif through his hair… this was something they’d done a million times, but never like THIS. It starts to sink in with Grif that he CAN just do stuff like compliment Simmons, and call him cute... the guy was VERY susceptible to flattery. In fact, he ate it up.

“… Grif? When we have the chance, do you want to go out on a date? Like, an actual, real date?” Simmons asks him.

“Oh, hell YES I do,” Grif doesn’t even hesitate.

“Good. We’ve got a lot of wasted time to make up for… jeez, we could have been boyfriends years ago, what’s wrong us?” Simmons is resting his cheek on top of Grif’s head, rolling his eyes at how ridiculous this whole journey has been.

“I think we already established the fact that we’re major idiots…” Grif reminds him… then realizes something. “… boyfriends?”

“Yep,” Grif feels Simmons nod his head gently.

“I’m your boyfriend?”

“Yep,”

“Your MY boyfriend?”

“Yep,”

Years of not liking each other, then becoming friends, then accidentally falling in love but not doing anything about it, then Grif trying to finally tell him only for Simmons to miss his point, then feeling like Simmons was going to drift away forever… and a few minutes ago, Grif wanted to get Simmons out of his life. Now they were boyfriends. Just like that, everything had changed. If there WAS some kind of divine creator out there with a plan, they REALLY liked screwing with Grif.

“That sounds pretty good,” Grif admits, finally allowing himself to separate from Simmons (because now he doesn’t feel like he’ll somehow lose Simmons if they aren’t clinging together).

“It really does,” Simmons presses his lips to Grif’s forehead briefly (both of them having internal moments of glee at the realization that they can do that now; share casual little kisses… because they were boyfriends), and then bends his knees to pick up their helmets.

***

While all this was going on, Kai had been inside the building losing her mind.

She was sick and tired of always having to wait on the side-lines while her brother had some emotional break-down… if he had listened to her before when she gave him advice about his love life, all these problems would have been solved. Heck, if Dex actually had the nerve, he would probably be MARRIED to Simmons by now… but nooooo, he had to be so pathetic and ignore his feelings (and ignore the fact that Simmons was OBVIOUSLY just waiting for him to make the first move. Not that Simmons knew that’s what he was waiting for, because he was pathetic too). She was surprised he hadn’t died of dehydration, her bro was so thirsty and refused to take a sip even when there was a tall drink of water RIGHT THERE.

She finally couldn’t take it anymore. She had to go out there and see what was happening. If they were fighting or not talking properly, she was gonna walk up and smack them both!

Kai heads down the hallway, and starts to step out through the doors… but then catches herself.

The two of them are standing out there. She can’t hear what they’re saying, but from the way they’re turning their heads slightly, she can tell they are talking. It seems like a comfortable conversation, whatever it is. The whole scene looks like something typical for the two of them, except… they’re holding hands.

They’re standing out there, together, talking, and holding hands.

Kai has no clue what finally did it, who said what, how it happened, but LOOK!

She quickly steps back inside, letting the doors quietly close. Kai barely takes a few steps away from the door before she has to stop, her knees almost give-out on her, so she just pauses there in the hall for a moment, half-bent over, holds her hands up in triumphant fists, and lets out a long sound of pure happiness-

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

-because her brother was out there holding hands with somebody! Not just anybody, but the specific somebody he’s been madly in love with! She wouldn’t have to kill Simmons after all! Kai leaves, practically skipping back down the hall, letting the two of them have their romantic little moment out there. They deserved it. They deserved each other. They had certainly waited long enough for it.

Ooh, she had to start thinking about fun date-night ideas for them… and ask Donut to help her pick out cute matching outfits for them to wear… and… and… NO, WAIT! She still had to be patient; those dorks out there only JUST got together, and everybody who knows them was bound to freak out about it (Kai hadn’t even been there for the beginning of this long and nonsensical romance, and she was freaking out a little herself). Dex needed some time to enjoy himself in peace. She would wait for them to tell the others (and once Tucker knew, he was probably going to start planning their wedding… if he hasn’t already). THEN she would start giving them dating suggestions~

#red vs blue #rvb #grimmons

[jokerfan99]

Diabolical Thieves!!! (RWBY/RVB) by Necroceph

*RVB Opening Theme*

2300 Hours in Red Base's Living Quarters

Ruby awakens from the rumbling beneath her heart that is her stomach. She sits up and get out off bed before heading toward the door and into the slightly lit hallway. Despite having two bowls of ramen back at dinner, her stomach still cries out for more sustanance. In order to calm it down, she decides to get a midnight snack and then return to bed.

Ruby: Now where's the food dispenser? Aha!

She sees the dispensing machine on the corridor's walls up ahead. Still on tonight's menu, there's turkey dinner, chef's special, ramen etc. Though what caught her eye the most on the menu is good old sweet cookies. The military version, although she wouldn't mind so long it's enough. She presses the menu and machine dispenses her order. She grabs the plastic covering and start to open it, until her eyes caught a glimpse of the locker room's lights.

Ruby: That's funny, I thought Lopez turned off the light.

Ruby heads to the locker room to investigate. When she enters, there doesn't seem to be anyone inside. Its empty. Before she was about to leave, she noticed one of the lockers are open and on it is engraved with the name, her name. 'ROSE'. Then she starts to become worried. She rushes to her locker and looks inside. Her face turns to pure horror.

At Sarge's Room

Sarge: Of course, Douglas MacArthur. Have some more tea. No Sun Tzu, it's not Chinese, it's English!

Here we see Sarge, sleeping peacefully with a Patton doll wrapped in his hands. From what he's muttering, we can tell his dreaming himself having tea with the greatest generals in Earth's history. Must be peaceful in that head of his.

Ruby: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

Not anymore. A loud scream was enough to wake him up. He shot up from his bed with his arms posed for a close-quarters combat.

Sarge: Who goes there?! Show yourself in the name of the Red Army! Huh, must be nothing. Ruby: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Sarge: Or not. Sweet jibblets, that sounds like Rose!

Sarge then jumps out of hid bed and rushes towards his personnal locker. He quickly opens it and grabs both his helmet and trusty shotgun. Now armed and ready, instead of opening the door like a normal person, he kicks it down before running through the hallway heading towards the source. Until he runs onto an obstacle that is Donut. Both men fell onto the ground.

Donut: Ow, my spline! Sarge: Donut? What are you doing here?

Both of them got up.

Donut: I was asking the exact same thing. Ow! What's happened? Who'd be screaming so close to midnight? Sarge: That's the sound of Rose in peril and it came from the locker room! There must be a Blue intruder in here who seeks to sabotage our plans and he's possibly holding Rose hostage! Donut: Yikes! We better wake up the rest! Sarge: That will take too much time, we need to move NOW!!!

At the locker room

Ruby: She's gone. She's gone.

We see Ruby with her knees on the floor. Tears flowing down from her large silver eyes like waterfalls as she continues muttering 'She's gone' again and again like a mantra. At the same time, Sarge and Donut arrived at the scene.

Sarge: Freeze dirtbag and let go of my private! No wait, it's just Rose sitting there. She's fine. Donut: Oh crap. Rose, are you okay? Ruby: WAAAAAAAH!!!

Ruby launches herself onto Donut, hugging him tightly around and burrowing her face onto his pink striped pajama shirt soaking it with her seemingly neverending tears.

Ruby: It's horrible! She's gone, she's GONE!!! Donut: Gone? Who's gone? Ruby: Crescent Rose. Sarge: Rose, compose yourself and explain us clearly! What do you mean gone? Ruby: *sniff* My rifle... my baby... SOMEONE KIDNAPPED HER!!!

Ruby points at the inside of her locker. Inside was supposed to store Crescent Rose, Ruby's sniper rifle. But there is no sight of it anywhere and all that's left is a sticky note with writing saying, 'NO TOUCHY -Love, Ruby'.

Donut: Oh, her rifle's gone. That's no big de-GAAAH!!!

Ruby suddenly violently shakes Donut by the collar.

Ruby: No big deal? NO BIG DEAL?!?! CRESCENT ROSE IS AN EXTENSION OF MYSELF! SHE'S A PART OF ME... me.... WAAAHAAAAAA!!!

Continues crying on his shirt. Feeling both pity and confused, Donut pats Ruby's back and tries to comfort her.

Donut: There, there. Everything's going to fine! Uhm, Sarge?

Sarge takes a closer look at the locker. He noticed something locker's door. Above the handle is a hole where the lock should be. It looks as though somebody torched it.

Sarge: Suffering catfish! Someone did stole her rifle! WHO DARES SIGN THEIR OWN DEATH WARRANT!!! Nobody steals the private property of my favourite markswoman! Donut: Doesn't make sense, who would want to steal a single wea... uh,  I mean... Crescent Rose.   Sarge: It's obviously the Blues! They must've realized how powerful Crescent Rose was in combat and they decided to steal it for their own diabolical schemes! Possibly mass-produce it. Donut: You mean like, tearing it apart from the inside and... Ruby: That's not helping!!! Donut: Sorry, sorry! So what do we do? Sarge: Simple, we'll steal it back by force! Call Lopez, Simmons and Grif.

Somewhere on of the cliffs near Blue Base

BANG!

Simmons: Holy shit!!! Another clean shot!

Simmons was more disbelieved to witness the accuracy of the shot. Grif silently laughs by Simmon's reaction as he aim for another shot with Crescent Rose.

Grif: So what do we have next? Simmons: Hmm, let's see.

Through the binoculars. he could see the damage Grif cause with the rifle, from the destruction of the tank's control panels to the Blue base's floodlights. To test the trajectory, he'll need to find something much further. Moving away from the base to another shooting area, he spots is bush much further and on that bush is a small red fruit on it.

Simmons: See that small fruit on that bush to the left? Grif: Yeah? Simmons: Shoot it. Grif: With pleasure.

Grif steadily aims at the fruit. Despite Crescent Rose's large size, it is surprisingly light so it wasn't a problem to hold it by hand. Once the crosshair's aimed at the fruit, he pulls the trigger.

BANG! SPLUUUURTT!

The explosive sound echoed through the cold night air. In a second, through Simmon's binoculars, the fruit exploded into a gooey mash, leaving nothing but bits and such.

Simmons: Alright, I think that's done it! Grif: Man, why didn't Command make this kind of weapon in the first place? It's awesome! Simmons: I totally agree. It's powerful, accurate and more lighter than the standard sniper rifles. Just imagine if we mass-produce this kind of weapon and equip the army with it, it'll be a turning point to the war. Grif: And we can finally end it early! If only Rose isn't so clinged to it all the time. Simmons: Oh I'm sure she'll understand how beneficial it would be. It'll only take a few tear outs to figure out its functionality.

TZZT

Donut through radio: This is Pvt. Franklin Delano Donut, do you read me over?

Donut's voice came through both of their helmets' radios. Simmons responsed first.

Simmons: Read you loud and clear, Donut. What are you doing up so late at- Donut through radio: Where are you guys? You weren't in your rooms! Simmons: Yeah sorry about that, we were doing a late night spying on the Blues. What's wrong? Donut through radio: We... kinda have a bit of emergency. You know Crescent Rose, Ruby's weapon? Someone stole it.

Simmons and Grif looked at one another with worried looks behind their visors

Simmons: Uhm... stolen? How? Donut through radio: Well an intruder entered the base just and we found a hole burned through Ruby's locker, possbily made by a hand-held blow torch. Sarge suspects its the Blues and since your both outside, have you seen anyone out there holding it? Simmons: Uh.. negative we haven't seen anyone out here nor anybody leaving the Blue base. Donut through radio: I see. Well then if you see them, do whatever it takes to stop 'em. Pvt. Franklin Delano Donut out!

CLICK

Grif: We are so dead. Simmons: We? You're the one who decided on the 'dirty work'! We should've opened that locker discreetly! Grif: It's locked up tight like ancient Fort Knox! There's no way we can pick it with a pin. Simmons: Whatever! Fuck, we can't let the others know. Grif: Or worse, Sarge. We gotta hide it. Simmons: And where Do we hide it, genius? Grif: How the fuck should I know? Bury it maybe? Simmons: Wait, I have an idea! Donut said Sarge suspects its the Blue's work, right? Grif: Ooooh, I know what you're thinking. Hehehehe. Let's put it in Caboose's room.

Deviantart: https://www.deviantart.com/necroceph

#ruby rose #rwby #rooster teeth #monty oum #Red vs Blue #rvb sarge #franklin delano donut #simmons rvb #dexter grif

[secretlystephaniebrown]

Time’s Running Out: Mike

An update that's not at ass-o'clock at night? Must be fall break for me! Hope you guys enjoy, and thank so you so much for all the wonderful feedback and support.

Summary: The Reds and Blues; and their respective Freelancers, find themselves stranded on a strange planet named Chorus. Secrets, lies, and the unexpected seem to lie around every corner, and there might be even larger threats looming over the horizon.

They’re possibly even less ready for Chorus than Chorus is for them.

Pairings: Lots of friendships, Suckington, Yorkalina, Chex, eventual Yorkimbalina, possible others.

Start

Previous

Ao3

They lost touch with Armonia about ten miles out of the city.

Kai didn’t like it; the army was heading in the opposite direction from them. She couldn’t contact Wash and he couldn’t contact them.

Last time they’d been out of contact, she hadn’t seen Tucker for months, and he’d been alone with Felix, who could have been hurting him at any time. And now Wash is going off too fight and he’s not going to have them to watch after him and—

Tucker squeezed her hand.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said.

Kai took a deep breath and looked around, examining the temple they’d found themselves in.

The architecture was alien in every sense of the word. Kai’d say it was more phallic than yonic, but the portal thingy kind of looked like it’s got petals, so she’d give the aliens a few points for gender equality. The alien crystals glowed a soft greenish color that kept everything bright.

“Oh, this is wonderful!” Grey said, beaming widely. “I always wanted to visit this temple when I was younger, but I’m afraid my research led me elsewhere! I can’t wait to see what we have!”

“Tucker,” Church said, looking up from the panel he’d been examining. “Take out your sword.”

“I thought you wanted me to stop whipping it out so much—bow-chicka-bow-wow,” Tucker said.

“Heyyo!” Kai crowed, holding up her hand for him to high-five.

“Shut up, both of you,” Church said. Well someone was in a bad mood. He’d gone all quiet and sulky after they’d left Armonia, and he’d only been quieter since they’d lost contact with the others.

Kai guessed she could sympathize with that. He was worried about the others too. Particularly his Freelancer.

Caboose was hovering near Church, like he usually did the second Epsilon was gone. He’d been even more clingy since they’d been separated by the armies. But Church, for once, didn’t seem to mind. He hadn’t even told Caboose that he was stupid, or to go away. Instead, he’d let Caboose fiddle with the wires of the console while he worked, the two of them working in relative silence while the rest of them had explored. Maybe Church had missed Caboose too.

Tucker flicked his wrist, not realizing that Kai was in the middle of a deep personal monologue, and the sword burst into life, the blade appearing.

“Hot,” Kai sighed loudly. Tucker’s alien sword wasn’t as good as his normal one, but she could still appreciate the finer things in life. Like one of her men holding a large, glowing thing that he liked to stick into people.

“Kai!” Grif and Church yelled in unison. She grinned beneath her helmet, unrepentant. It wasn’t her fault that they made it so easy.

Tucker, Donut, and Grey laughed at least. And Caboose gave that little not-laugh that he did when he didn’t want to be left out of the joke.

“I don’t get it,” she heard him quietly mutter to Church.

“Don’t worry about it Caboose,” Church said, before suddenly spinning around. “Holy shit.”

The lighting in the temple all suddenly became dark red. She barely had time to even listen to Sarge’s cry of triumph before the portal flared, becoming menacingly larger.

“Oh my!” Grey said, clapping her hands. “Well, that makes the translation sooooo much easier!”

“Damn it,” Church said, kicking the panel he’d been working on. “That was supposed to have worked! The key was supposed to have overridden any other requirements!”

“Oh, don’t be such a bore,” Grey said, clearly giddy. “The test is clear. We need a true warrior!”

Sarge hmphed, squinting at her. “Say what now, little lady?”

“A true warrior! Of physical strength and mental clarity,” Grey nodded. She seemed pretty pleased with the whole situation.

“Well it's a good thing I’m here!” Tucker said, flourishing his sword again.

“Woo! Go get them babe!”

“We’re all going to die,” Simmons muttered.

“So… what?” Grif says. “If Tucker is the true warrior—and let me just say, I’m pretty damn skeptical here—what’s he supposed to do? Stand on his head? Fuck another alien?”

“The portal is a gateway,” Grey said, in that voice she got whenever she’d found Kai and Donut in the medical lube. “So, Tucker just needs to jump into the portal, and we’ll have answers!”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem! Tucker’s great at entering! And I’m sure he’ll be quick!”

“Thanks Donut,” Tucker muttered. But he shook himself out of it quickly enough, and charged forward, entering the portal with a running leap.

There was a single moment as Kai prepared herself for a long wait and a little worrying, but then there was a flash of light, and Tucker was thrown right back out.

“Whoa! What happened?”

“I told you it’d be over quickly!”

“You failed the test, dumbass,” Simmons said.

“Or maybe he's so good he passed the test super fast,” Caboose said.

“You see?”

“Donut!”

Kai reached out and grabbed Tucker’s helmet in her hands. He seemed to be shaking. Through the tinted visor, Kai thought she saw tears.  

“What did you see?” Grey bustled up to them, taking Tucker’s wrist as if intending to check his pulse. “Tell me about the other side. Did you make contact? Oh! And how are you feeling?”

Tucker swallowed and pressed his visor against Kai’s. “I saw Felix.”

“They’re here?” Kai reached down and took Tucker’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “How?”

“Well, I don’t think it was really him,” Tucker admitted. “He showed up, then another Felix showed up. And the next thing I know there were a million fucking assholes all over me. Same thing with Locus, I couldn’t fight them off!”

“You weren’t strong enough,” Grey said thoughtfully.

“Fuck you!” Kai said, bristling on Tucker’s behalf. “Tucker’s got great game!”

“No,” Tucker said quietly. “She’s right.”

“Screw that!” Kai said, pulling away from him. “I’m going in there to give that thing a piece of my mind!”

“Wait, Kai!” She wasn’t sure who said it, but she didn’t particularly care either.

Kai jumped in to the portal, and the world went dark.

It was dark.

And quiet.

No one else was there.

She called and called and called but no one answered.

She was alone.

For a very long time.

Kai stumbled out of the portal, breathing heavily. She was crying. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been crying for. Already she felt exhausted, as if she’d been sobbing for hours and hours, leaving that familiar hollow, tired feeling.  

“Kai!” Dex was there, looking all worried, and before anything else could happen Kai hugged him tightly. He was there. They were all there. They weren’t gone. Everyone was still here, and she wasn’t alone, and it was all okay.

She buried her face in Dex’s shoulder as best she could when they were both in armor, and tried to stop the tears.

“Are you okay?” Tucker was there, putting a hand on her back. All Kai wanted to do was to rip off his armor and kiss him senseless, but… then he’d see her face and know she’d been crying. And she didn’t want that.

“Pssh. Duh,” she said as strongly as she could, and if Tucker heard her runny nose in her voice, he didn’t say anything.

“So… who’s next?” Grey asked cheerfully. Kai wasn’t sure if she was being rude or polite, but Kai decided not to care, because Dex was still hugging her and that was what really mattered.

“Me!” Sarge said, sounding gleeful. “We’ve let the blues have two shots at the glory! Now it’s time to prove that the truest of warriors are always the ones who wear the blood of their enemies on their armor!” He turned to Grey. “I mean Red Team,” he added.

“Wait, do you hear that?” Simmons said, looking up.

Kai paused, listening. “There’s only two things in the universe that make that noise! The Sanghilli Clit Massager 2000XXX or a Mongoose!”

“Wait, what?”

The Mongoose pulled into sight, and Kai grinned as she realized Carolina was on it. One armored badass to save the day, as ordered. It wasn’t Wash, but Carolina was pretty awesome.

“Carolina!” Tucker said, moving towards her. “Is Wash okay?”

“He’s fine,” Carolina said. She sounded almost out of breath. Or… mad. Kind of like when they’d first met her.  

“Yeah, if you mean trapped in Armonia fully surrounded by the bad guys!” Epsilon appeared over Carolina’s shoulder, arms crossed.

“What?”

“It was a trap,” Carolina’s voice was short. “We need to regroup. With most of the forces trapped, it’s going to be up to us to take guerilla action to try to help break the siege.”

“A siege?” Dex yelled, throwing his hands up into the air. “What fucking century is this?”

“We need to figure out this portal, and then we’ll be on the way,” Simmons said. “We need answers!”

Carolina sighed. “What are we looking for?”

“Oh you know, nothing much, just a true warrior,” Caboose said.

Carolina tilted her head. “Is that all?”

“Say!” Sarge said. “Why don’t you give it a go! You’re a red!”

Carolina let out a soft laugh. Something seemed to release in her shoulders as she looked at Sarge and nodded once. “I guess I am.”

“Aha! I knew you’d come! Mostly around York, but—”

“Donut,” Carolina said warningly.

“They’re still at the awkward sexual tension stage, Donut!” Kai said to him. “All the orgasms she’s getting are motor assisted!”

“Would you two stop it?”

“Let them finish!” Tucker called. “Bow-chicka-bow-wow.”

Carolina let out the kind of long-suffering sigh that Wash had mastered so long ago, and turned to Grey. “What do I need to do?”

“Just jump in the portal, face your own worst nightmares. You know. That sort of thing,” Tucker said.

“You already tried?” Epsilon asked.

“We thought that merely carrying the sword through the portal would override the need to be strong and intelligent,” Grey said.

“Hey!”

Carolina let out that soft little amused noise that Kai didn’t get to hear her make nearly often enough. “Well then. Guess it’s my turn.”

She jumped into the portal.

She returned moments later, subdued and quiet. The happy tilt to her helmet that she’d picked up after saying she was a red was gone.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said the minute Grey tried to ask her a question.

“Fair,” Tucker and Kai said in unison.

“Alright then,” Sarge said. “Well, let’s give this thing another go—”

“MY TURN,” Caboose howled gleefully, throwing himself forward.

“Caboose!”

Caboose was gone a whole five minutes before suddenly the temple’s lights switched to the color of Tucker’s sword, and he reappeared. “Aaaaaand we’re back!” Caboose declared. Kai got the impression that he had his widest, dorkiest grin on his face.

“Caboose!” Carolina said.

“Are you okay?” Grey rushed up to him, concerned as always.

“What happened?” Epsilon and Church had done their weird thing when they spoke in unison with each other. Immediately Church’s concern evaporated, and he stepped as far away from Carolina and Epsilon as he could manage.

“Ah, well ah yeah!” Caboose was practically bouncing with all the attention. “I went to the bathroom and then I met an alien and we became friends and he told me everything about the universe and the meaning of life and then—”

“Wait! An alien?” Tucker said, straightening up.

That was, of course, when the giant glowing alien appeared.

“Greetings,” the alien said.

“Holy shitballs!” Kai shrieked.

“Sweet mother of Pecos Bill!”

“What the fuck?”

“Jesus!”

“Whoa.”

“Caboose. What. The. Fuck.”

“My apologies,” the alien said, “but is there anyone else I could speak to? Perhaps someone with a broader vocabulary?”

“An alien AI,” Church whispered, staring up at the glowing red projection. “Fuck.”

Kai had never seen Church look so scared before.

When the Meta had let them know that one of the Mongoose had gone missing, it hadn’t taken too much effort to track down who had stolen it.

Agent Carolina.

Sharkface followed her at a distance, even though there was nothing more that he wanted than to attack her then and there. But he needed some patience. There was a chance she could lead him to the others. Washington and Texas would be equally welcome sights.

“So?” Felix asked.

Radios on Chorus didn’t work long range, with a few exceptions. Charon-produced exceptions. The alien technology that they had already harvested allowed the pirate forces to be able to circumvent the Tower’s block. An unhackable, untraceable way for them to keep contact, while the armies, Freelancers, and Sim Troopers were helpless.  

“They’re investigating an alien temple,” he said. “Looking for something.”

“Let them finish what they’re doing,” Thatcher ordered. Sharkface gritted his teeth, biting back insults. “They might be on to something useful. When they leave the temple, then you can make your mood.”

“Sorry,” Felix purred. “But who exactly left you in charge?”

“Hargrove did,” Thatcher snapped. “We’ve been over this, you—”

“Enough,” Siris’ voice was remarkably calm. “There’s no time for fights like this. Agent Texas destroyed the heavy artillery, and we need to focus our efforts. Our spies inside the city aren’t reporting in, either.”

“Foxtrot’s work,” Locus said. “He often worked counterintelligence.”

“Who the fuck is Foxtrot?” Sharkface said, watching as Agent Carolina returned from the portal. His finger twitched on the trigger of his gun. It would be so easy just to put a bullet in her brain here and now. To just end this.

“You know him as Agent York,” Siris said. There was a quiet danger to that man, one that made Sharkface nervous. Thatcher was a known element. Felix was unpredictable and dangerous. Locus was a professional. But Siris was… odd.

The Meta let out a growl from his place next to Sharkface.

Because Sharkface was a professional, he hadn’t killed the man yet. But he would. Agent Maine had helped kill plenty of people in that building, had killed plenty of his friends. Price said that the AI had destroyed his brain, annihilating what he’d once been.

But that didn’t make it any better.

Sharkface would kill him the second he wasn’t useful.

“Are you sure it’s just Carolina?” Felix asked. “Texas has that invisibility unit—”

“It is unlikely she would be able to have destroyed the artillery and kept pace with Agent Carolina,” Locus said. “She is in the city. With the others.”

Thatcher snarled. “Good.”

“Remember,” Felix sang. “First come first served when it comes to the Freelancers.”

“I told you,” Thatcher said. “Texas is mine.”

“Don’t see your name on her, Connecticut.”

“You little—”

“Enough,” Locus growled. “You are acting like children. We are professionals. Act like it.”

Suddenly, the Meta gave out a warning growl.

“We’ll have to call you back,” Sharkface said. “I think things are about to get… interesting.”

Most of what they were saying wasn’t interesting. Useful, sure, but Sharkface would just share the footage with the others later.

But he got the gist.

Another alien sword.

A temple which could kill the entire world.

“You know what?” He said to the Meta. “I think that’s all we need to know. Don’t you?”

The Meta let out a growl of affirmation, and they moved into action.

Wash had never liked feeling trapped, even if it was in an entire city.

“How are you doing?” Doyle asked him, looking up from the paperwork that Wash had been helping him sort through.

“Fine, General.”

“Agent Washington, I realize that this has been ah… stressful for you, but I’m certain Agent Carolina would have contacted us if anything had been amiss.”

“General,” Wash said through gritted teeth. “Our last transmission with Carolina indicated that a power-hungry man who, the last time he and Carolina met, ripped two AI out of her spine. The last time I met him, he shot me and York. We haven’t had any word from any of the away team since before the siege began. There’s really not much you can say that will make me feel better right now.”

“Rightly so,” Doyle said, looking subdued. “Do you have Agent York’s latest report on the spies?”

“He hasn’t been writing those down,” Wash said. “He says it’s too easy to be intercepted.”

“He’s probably right about that,” Kimball said, opening the door. “We’ve had three desertions so far. He’s got them running scared.”

“Please tell me he’s been taking them alive,” Wash said. “We need answers.”

“He is,” Kimball said. “Agent Texas threw one of them off a roof, but we think he’ll survive his injuries.”

“York recruited—of course he did,” Wash said, his shoulders slumping.

“Agent York and Agent Texas are… curiously co-dependent,” Kimball said. There was a weird way she said that.

“They’re… close,” Wash said. It felt somehow inadequate to explain the situation. The sheer rage, protectiveness, fondness, and exasperation that he’d seen. “Tucker… Tucker said they were best friends.”

“Oh.” Kimball looked perplexed. “I thought…”

“Not romantic,” Wash said, shaking his head.

For a moment, Kimball seemed happy with that answer.

“What about Agent Carolina? I heard some fascinating stories from Private Donut… but I’m afraid I’m never quite certain how much to believe that man when it comes to tails of grand romance.”

Wash shrugged. “From what I understand, York and Carolina are… complicated.” There was so much tangled up there that Wash had no desire to understand. He’d seen the kiss, that first time they’d reunited. He’d been there for York mourning her, had seen the franticness of Carolina at their separation. But he hadn’t seen them restart their old routine from Freelancer. The two of them no longer operated like a unit, in sync with each other. There wasn’t the old banter, the familiar flirtations. Instead, there was a tension, heavy in the air.

It had been there since they had found out about York’s past.

Kimball paused. “Agents York and Carolina are… together?”

“Like I said,” Wash shrugged. “Complicated.”

“Right,” Kimball said, so softly that it might have been to herself. She shook her head suddenly. “Delta has assured me that if something was to happen to the away team, he would have noticed, Wash,” she added. “He says that Church’s injuries would be… noticeable.” She glanced up at him. “I’m honestly not sure what he means.”

“Church is equipped with a beacon in case of injury or death,” Wash said. “All Freelancers were but… well. The rest of us disabled them.”

“Surely the Tower of Communications would block such a beacon,” Doyle objected.

Kimball shook her head. “Delta doesn’t think so. The signal is supposed to be noticeable from halfway across the galaxy. It might not be able to leave Chorus, but it should get through here.”

“But why on earth would Private Church be equipped with such a thing? I could understand such a concern for you Freelancers, but, as much as I might like him—” Wash nearly choked on his own saliva at that statement, and mentally tried to figure out if Doyle was smarter or dumber than he had previously suspected, “—the fact remains that he is simply another simulation trooper! Why would they invest—”

“Church is an AI,” Wash said. “The original AI. The Alpha.”

Kimball let out a soft noise. “That’s why Epsilon—”

“Epsilon is the memories of Alpha. They’re… similar. But they’ve got their differences.”

“I… I see.”

“An Artificial Intelligence? Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

“Because it’s none of your business,” Texas said from the doorway.

“Tex,” Wash protested weakly.

“Shut up, Washington.”

“They needed to know about the beacon!”

“Does it look like I care?”

“Agent Texas, calm down,” Kimball ordered. “Is something wrong?”

Tex paused.

“Is there a reason you’re so upset about Private Church not being human?” Doyle asked.

Tex’s spine went ramrod straight, and in that moment, Wash thought she might be about to try to kill someone.

“No,” she spat. “No reason at all.”

The door slammed behind her, and Wash couldn’t help but feel that there had just been a terrible mistake.

“A sword, huh?” Felix asked, tilting his head towards Locus.

Locus nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “We’ll meet you there.”

He cut off the call and turned to face the others.

Siris, not-Connecticut slash Thatcher slash whatever his name was, and Locus were all gathered around the table, looking over the plans for Armonia that Locus had drawn up.

“This is important,” Siris said. “I’ll stay here. Maybe I’ll get lucky and get a shot on Foxtrot.”

“Sounds good,” Felix said. Siris’ grudge against Foxy was fucking hilarious. He had a sniper’s focus, and that allowed for brilliant blindspots. Felix was all too happy to indulge it, if it meant they got a fighter like Siris on their side, after all. Way better than Sharkface or Douchebag Weird Helmet or The Meta. “Locus and I will head out. Thatcher, you’re in charge.”

“I am in charge already,” Thatcher snarled. Touchy as always. “Hargrove’s orders were clear—”

“Don’t care,” Felix said. Why Hargrove had even felt that the guy was needed was beyond him. His armor trick was useful, sure, but there wasn’t anything about the man that was worth keeping around. If it had been Felix in charge, the guy would have had a bullet in his head and been down a suit of armor years ago, long before Texas had left him with a sliced open stomach in the desert, failing on another mission. “Just… don’t fuck this up, got it? We just need our spies to trigger the reactor core, and then this key can take care of the stragglers. If we do this right, the job’s over by tomorrow morning, and we can all get paid.”

And then Hargrove would try to have them all killed to limit the number of people who knew about his dirty little secret. But Felix would worry about that later. He and Locus had plenty of blackmail on Hargrove accumulated from this war, plus a few other jobs.

Maybe he’d keep Siris alive too. For old time’s sake. With Megan and the kids out of the picture, it could be like old times again.

And it would be a challenge to try to balance Siris and Locus’ respective issues while making sure neither of them noticed what he was doing. Maybe he could even play them off each other—the possibilities were endless. Two broken soldiers from the war, clinging to the remnants of the past. Genocide had almost been too easy. There would be other jobs, bigger jobs. There was so much they could do. This job had proved that. Felix was unstoppable, especially with people like Locus and Siris listening to him.

The things that he could do when all of this was over was enough to really get the blood flowing.

Felix hummed to himself as he and Locus left the building they had been meeting in.

“Ready partner?” He said, slapping a hand on Locus’ shoulder.

Locus said nothing, but he didn’t have to.

Felix already knew that Locus would follow him anywhere he asked.

#Steph Writes #The BFF Verse #Time's Running Out #Kaikaina Grif #Sharkface #Agent Washington #Felix #Red vs Blue

[animationnut]

Piece By Piece: Chapter 4

Fandom: Red vs. Blue Rating: T (to be safe) Summary: Platonic Soulmate AU. Grif spent most of his life without soulmarks. He tried to convince himself that he didn’t care. He had his sister. She was more than enough. After all, what were the odds he would find his soulmates in the army? 

                                                    First Chapter

                                                 Previous Chapter

                                                    Next Chapter

It was his first day being stationed at Blood Gulch and already he was forced to do exercise. Grif had hoped he would at least get a break since leaving the training base, but apparently his Commanding Officer was a stickler for rules. His rules, anyway, which were rapidly turning out not to make much sense. It would probably be in his benefit to get on Sarge’s good side…he’d have to work on that.

As Grif struggled through his tenth push-up, sweat already dripping down his body and muscles feeling like they were going to give way at any moment, he cursed Simmons for opening his big mouth. “Just had to claim credit for the stupid paperwork,” he grumbled. “Got us both in trouble. Ugh, this sucks!”

“Come on, Private!” called Sarge, standing on the top of Red Base, observing his new subordinate disapprovingly. “My grandma could do push-ups better than you!”

“Is that seriously as fast as you can go?” asked Simmons, who finished his twenty push-ups five minutes ago.

“You know what they say about slow and steady,” returned Grif, letting out a grunt as he completed his eleventh push-up.

A strange tingling started to work his way through his shoulder. Brow furrowing, Grif ignored the sensation at first, but when it intensified to the point where he couldn’t feel the limb anymore he abruptly stopped his punishment.

“I think I’m having a heart attack!”

“What?” called Simmons, shifting uncomfortably on his feet as he flexed his right wrist, trying to rid himself of what he believed to be pins and needles.

“A heart attack! I can’t feel my shoulder! That’s a symptom, right?”

The retort on Sarge’s tongue paused. He twisted his body slightly, but the numbness remained in his left side. But just as quickly as it came it passed and he shook his head. “Quit whining and keep pushing!” he barked. “You still got nine to go, Private! Keep me waiting and I’ll add on another ten!”

Grif took a second to catch his breath, moving his arm in a circular motion and feeling the pull in his shoulder. That had been weirdly familiar. It reminded him of how his body had felt when he was twelve, when his soulmarks appeared for the first time. But that didn’t make sense. Soulmarks didn’t appear later in life.

No, it was most definitely the symptom of a heart attack.

…

“I hate my life.”

Sitting in the corner of the Sidewinder jail cell, dressed only in his grey underclothes, Grif wrapped his arms tightly around his knees as he shivered violently. The concrete floor retained the cold from outside, which also carried the vibrations from the howling winter wind.

“Come on, it could be worse,” remarked Church.

“How?”

“You could be dead.”

“I don’t know, at least I wouldn’t be freezing my ass off,” grumbled Grif. “Why did they let you keep your armour?”

“Uh…they found out pretty quickly it’s really hard to come off,” said Church vaguely.

“That’s bull,” muttered Grif. “This is discrimination. They always pick on the chubby guy.”

The minutes seemed to stretch on and Grif’s skin started to take on a blue tinge, his teeth chattering madly. Church stared at him, pity rising up as Grif tried curling tighter within himself. Turning his head towards the metal bars, Church hollered, “Hey assholes! Hurry up! You already emptied out the bullets from his gun and there’s nothing in his armour but snack cakes!”

“Shut the hell up in there!” their guard shouted from down the hall. “Or else one of his bullets will end up in your head!”

Church gave a snort. “Yeah, like that’ll do anything,” he muttered lowly.

“Well, thanks for the attempt,” said Grif with a shaky sigh. “If I die here, let Sarge know I went peacefully and quickly. He’ll hate that.”

“You’re not gonna die here. At least I don’t think so. Get up, walk around. You’re gonna lose a limb or something if you just sit there.”

“Hey, if I lost an arm and didn’t get it replaced, that’d get me out of the army, right?”

Church highly doubted it, considering he was literally dead and still in this stupid war, but he kept this to himself. Instead he strode over to where Grif was slumped in the corner, his eyes worryingly unfocussed and half-shut. “Probably not. So get the hell up and quit your whining.”

His armour-plated hand clapped down on Grif’s right shoulder. The Hawaiian native immediately let out a yelp and instinctively gripped Church’s left wrist. Frustration and agitation charged through him, quickly followed by surprise. Beneath the emotions was a mounting coldness, caused not by the temperature of the cell. His body started to curl away but Church’s grip increased.

‘Don’t even think about it.’

‘Dude, you are not making this any easier!’

‘I know, but it’s not like I can help it.’

The sensation of Church’s soul was like the quiet force of a blizzard. When Grif got used to it, it wasn’t necessarily unpleasant, just the crisp cold one would feel on an early winter morning. Beneath the chill were layers, layers of the soul Grif could see but not move past. Some unfolded before him, others remained locked. Church’s fear of losing Tex loomed forwards, like a dark cloud disturbing a pleasant sunny winter morning.

‘We’ll get her. And O’Malley.’

‘I know.’

‘She’ll probably kick his ass before we even find them.’

Amusement flowed through Grif at that, followed by fond affection and gratitude. There was a click as their souls finished connecting and Grif turned his head, staring at the blue handprint that now spread across his shoulder. His brow furrowed slightly as he recalled it was the same shoulder, the same spot, which had gone inexplicably numb a few years ago.

“This is weird,” said Grif, running his chilled fingers through his long raven locks. “I thought soulmarks couldn’t be exchanged through armour.”

“Uh…yeah, they can’t.”

“What do you mean they can’t? It just happened! Unless I’m seriously out of it and this is all a hallucination.”

Church let out a sigh. “Alright. I have to show you something. You’re gonna freak out, but try not to scream.”

Grif stared blankly for a moment, but his expression transformed into shock as Church stepped out of his armour, a transparent silhouette against their concrete environment. Before Grif could properly process what was happening Church hastily stepped back into his robot body, the footfalls of the guard rapidly approaching them.

“What the hell--?”

Grif’s exclamation was cut short as the guard appeared at their cell. His orange armour was tossed inside, as well as his empty gun, and Grif wasted no time in pulling on the plating. The second he was fully covered he activated the heating unit, letting out a sigh of relief as the warm air engulfed him.

The guard walked away without a word and Grif turned to face Church. “Let me continue. What the hell are you?”

“Remember when Caboose was in the tank and started firing at you guys and your jeep?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Caboose accidentally killed me. I’m a ghost. Have been since then.”

“But you have a body!”

“What, you think I wanted Sarge to make a couple of robot bodies just for fun?” asked Church with a scoff.

Grif struggled to comprehend what he was being told. “So you’re dead. And you’re a ghost. And you inhabit robot bodies.”

“Basically.”

Pressing a hand against the top of his head, Grif cried, “This makes zero sense! A dead person can’t soul-bond with people!”

“Not normal dead people. But I’m a ghost. And what makes up a ghost, dumbass?”

“A…soul?”

“Good job, ten points.”

“Don’t get sarcastic with me!” snapped Grif. “This is messed up!”

“Tell me about it,” said Church feelingly. “I thought I had enough idiots for soulmates and now I just have another one.”

Though his tone contained annoyance the affection that rushed through Grif was sincere. Grif smirked and said, “Yeah. You’re real torn up about it.”

“Shut up,” snapped Church. Gaining a more serious tone, he said awkwardly, “Uh, I’m sorry about the assholes who made your life hell.”

“Why are you apologizing? I mean, I know you’re an asshole, but you don’t have to apologize on behalf of all the others I’ve had to deal with.”

“I know. But it’s complete crap.”

“It is,” agreed Grif. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You know, your soulmarks. Where were you when they first appeared? Did you have any before Blood Gulch?”

He hadn’t had access to most of Church’s memories while connected to his soul. Which was strange, considering the soul-realm was supposed to be the one place where nothing could be hidden or buried. But Grif didn’t dwell on it too much—it was hard to worry about that when his newest soulmate was a ghost.

When Church didn’t speak, Grif muttered sheepishly, “Sorry, that was probably too personal.”

“Dude, we’re soulmates,” said Church flatly. “Pretty sure there aren’t personal boundaries anymore. I don’t know. About the soulmarks, I mean. I’ve had Tex’s for about as long as I can remember. But you, and the others, I think they came later?” Church gave a thoughtful hum as he mulled it over. “Huh. I don’t really remember the exact moment.”

It didn’t make sense to Grif that Church didn’t remember, since everyone received their soulmarks when they were twelve. It was difficult to forget the time and place when the monumental event occurred. But Grif couldn’t argue, since he was ninety-nine percent sure Church’s soulmark had formed on his first day at Blood Gulch.

“I guess we’re stuck with each other now,” said Grif, trying to sound indifferent despite the happiness that was coursing through him.

“Guess so,” returned Church with fond exasperation.

“But I’d rather not be stuck in this damn cell.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Grif asked, “Can you do a ghost thing and open these doors?”

“I can.”

“Then why didn’t you do it the second we were thrown in here?” cried Grif. “I was freezing to death!”

“Well I couldn’t do it while there were guards around the corner!” shot back Church. “But now they’re gone.”

But before Church could do anything the iron bars slid upwards. “Whoa. That was quick.”

“Wasn’t me,” said Church in bewilderment. “But whatever, it works. Let’s go.”

As they jogged out of the cell, Grif had a sudden thought and he asked, “Wait, you requested that Sarge make you two robots. What was the second one for?”

“Tex. She’s a ghost too.”

“What?”

…

“I’m leaving. I’m going with them.”

Though Grif could not see Washington’s face through his visor, the shock in his voice gave him a decent picture of his expression. “What?”

“This is your fight. Not mine.”

“It’s your fight more than anyone else’s!” exclaimed Wash.

“I don’t care what you say,” said Church flatly, resting one hand against the side of the jeep Caboose had chosen. “No. It isn’t.”

“Church, you’ll never get another shot at fixing all of this. I know you don’t believe what I’ve told you, but you need to ask yourself. What if I’m wrong? If I am or if you have any doubts not finding out will haunt you for the rest of your life. Not just about you but finding out about everyone close to you as well. It’s your choice. What’s it going to be?”

“You know what, maybe you’re right. Maybe I am the Alpha. But I’m not just a damn computer,” hissed Church. “You don’t know what you’re asking me to risk.”

“I understand you made a life for yourself. More than the Director could have ever expected,” said Wash patiently. “You’re not the only one risking everything. If I get caught, I’m going down with the rest of Project Freelancer.”

“Boo-hoo for you,” said Church sarcastically. “Least there’s a chance you’re not going to be dead.”

“Church, you need to do this.”

“Stop saying that!” shouted Church, slamming his fist against the metal exterior and making Caboose jump in fright. “I freaking know I need to do this! But I can’t put them through that!”

Washington turned to Caboose, Sarge, Grif and Simmons, who were observing the pair awkwardly. “I know they’ll miss you—”

“It’s more than that!”

Church stepped out of his body, his transparent form glowing in the dim lighting. After a moment of concentration, he made coloured handprints form. They shimmered into existence on his body, among them red, maroon, orange and dark blue. On the inside of his left wrist, written in black cursive, was Tex’s name.

Washington’s gun clattered to the floor.

“What?” he asked, voice strangled with disbelief. “How—?”

“He’s not just a compute program,” spoke Grif, reaching up to snap off his shoulder plating, revealing the blue handprint. “And while this makes even less sense considering he’s not actually dead, or have a soul for that matter, he’s still one of us. He’s still a person. He’s Church.”

“That’s right!” said Caboose, nodding hard. “He is our best friend, because we have his Best Friend marks and he has ours! But I am his number one best friend. Just so everyone knows.”

“He’s an asshole and everything but he’s, you know, our asshole,” said Simmons determinedly. “And if he doesn’t want to go with you, he doesn’t have to.”

“Yeah,” said Sarge gruffly. “You’re the one who dragged us into this mess in the first place. You never said we had to make a sacrifice.”

“See?” said Church defiantly, merging back with his robot body. “It may not make any damn sense, but I am not putting my soulmates through my death. Look me dead in the eye and tell me again what I should do.”

Washington stared at the floor for a moment, seeming to have an internal struggle. Finally, he raised his head and said in a monotone, “It’s the only thing you can do to fix all of this. And I know you want to.”

“You son of a—”

Church lunged forwards and Grif intercepted him, circling his fingers around his wrist. He felt the confliction crash over him like a wave as Church wrestled with his need to discover the truth for himself and protect his friends from heartache.

“If you want to do this, do it,” he said firmly. “You will regret it if you don’t.”

“I can’t—”

“You can,” interrupted Simmons. “Seriously. “We’ll…we’ll find a way to be okay.”

Church reached out and curled his hand over Grif’s shoulder, listening to the comfort his soul brought for a moment. Grif closed his eyes and memorized the cold rush from Church’s soul that always engulfed him. He tried not to think about how it may be the last time he would ever feel it.

A minute later Grif moved back and Simmons approached, lightly placing his hand over Church’s right forearm. They took their turns giving Church the comfort he needed, the determination to spur him to make the decision he had to make. Caboose went last and he hesitated for a second before gently setting his palm against Church’s chest.

Grif turned his head away, not able to imagine what Caboose was thinking, if he even understood what was about to take place. Anxiety and fear rose in his gut but he ignored it. He knew losing Church was going to hurt, in more ways than one. And it wasn’t fair. He’d known Church for only six years and had him as a soulmate less than that. They hadn’t spent nearly enough time together.

He peeked over to catch Caboose leaning away from Church. “Okay,” said Church, struggling to speak past the gratitude and love that formed a lump in his throat. “I’ll do it.”

“Caboose, are you okay with that?” asked Sarge carefully.

“Yes! It is what Church wants to do. It is important to him, so it is important to me. We will see each other after!”

He said it with such sincerity, with pure belief, that no one had the heart to correct him. When Wash tried, a threatening growl from Sarge shut him up quickly.

“Thank you,” he said instead, coughing slightly. He regarded each of them, his brain trying and failing to understand how an A.I. could possibly be able to exchange soulmarks. It was impossible. It should have been impossible.

Who exactly are these guys?

He didn’t have time to dwell on it as Church asked, “So what exactly do I need to do?”

“I’ll explain on the way. You should be able to enter the A.I. slot in my armour. You’ll remain hidden until it’s time for you to make your move.”

“Got it.”

Church left his robot body but before he went over to Wash he approached Grif, Sarge and Simmons. “Take care of Caboose,” he said lowly.  

“We will,” they promised.

“I will!” cried Caboose, even though he couldn’t hear what Church had said. “Wait, I will what?”

“Don’t worry about,” assured Church. “Be safe, buddy.”

“Okay! I will follow all traffic laws!”

“Tell Tucker he’s a lazy useless piece of crap. And I’m going to miss him.”

“I will tell him,” vowed Caboose.

Church surveyed his friends, who he knew were about to be in extreme agony, just for him and his needs. Whoever said computers couldn’t feel emotions were full of crap. “Good luck, guys. And thanks.”

“Aw, don’t get mushy on us now. Let’s go, dagnabbit!” said Sarge, succeeding in keeping his voice from shaking.

Church nodded and disappeared into Wash’s armour. “Do not worry Church! I will keep your body safe!” promised Caboose, lugging the metal body into the passenger’s seat of his jeep.

“Uh…I better go with Caboose,” muttered Sarge. “For obvious reasons.”

“Yeah, smart idea,” said Grif.

Sarge went to take the gun position on Caboose’s jeep. Surveying the soldiers, Wash instructed, “Just run. Get Epsilon out of here. Turn it over to the authorities the first chance you get. When the E.M.P. goes off—”

“You mean the emp?” piped in Caboose.

“Stop it,” said Wash flatly. “It will destroy Epsilon if you’re not far enough away.”

“You got it Mr. Washington!” exclaimed Caboose.

“Take care of yourselves guys,” said Wash sincerely. He felt a stab of guilt for what they were about to go through but steeled himself against it. They had no choice. Losing a soulmate happened sooner or later. And in their line of work, they would have to get used to it. “I know that’s one thing you’re good at.”

He opened the door and the two jeeps sailed out of the base. The Meta fell for the bait and they gunned it across the field, dust spraying in all directions. Caboose wasn’t the smoothest driver and a particularly vicious jolt sent Church’s body flying over the side.

“Don’t even think about it!” barked Sarge, noticing Caboose’s foot jerking towards the brake.

“But his body--!”

“We don’t have time Caboose! Quit slowin’ down and move it!”

Though Caboose was reluctant he slammed his foot back on the gas, shooting a solemn glance at the prone robot body in the grass behind them.

It was a minute later when the bomb went off, an electric wave disabling every vehicle and electronic within range. Grif and Simmons didn’t quite make it, their jeep stalling and screeching to a halt. They waved Sarge and Caboose ahead, hollering for them to keep moving.

As they watched the jeep grow further away, Epsilon safely secured, Grif had a realization. He felt nothing.

“Simmons—”

“Do you think--?”

Grif unattached his shoulder plating. There was the blue mark, as bright as ever. Stunned, Grif stared at Simmons. “How is this possible? I thought the emp was supposed to destroy everything?”

“I don’t know,” said Simmons slowly. “But to be fair, nothing about having Church’s soulmark makes sense.”

Grif focussed on his emotions. He felt Donut’s concern, Kai’s perplexity and Simmons’ hope but nothing from Church. It was like an empty tunnel he could no longer access. Church’s connection was still there, but it had gone silent.

They didn’t have an answer for what exactly was going on. But it didn’t matter. They were just grateful that the agony and torture that came from having a soulmate die did not come. Which meant that somehow, somewhere, Church was still alive.

#red vs blue #rvb #red vs blue fanfiction #rvb fanfiction #platonic soulmate au #soulmate au #dexter grif #leonard church #rvb alpha #dick simmons #sarge rvb #michael caboose #agent washington #byanimationnut

[juniperwing]

Red vs Blue - Explosions and Funerals at Sunrise

SPOILERS FOR SEASON 13 To celebrate the premiere of Season 15, I'd thought I would share an old story I wrote about the aftermath of Church's sacrifice at the end of Season 13. What may have happened when the Red's and Blue's discovered that Church was gone and had to come to grips with it. Although, I did goof up horribly and forgot to write in Lopez, so, please forgive me for that. Constructive criticism is welcome, this is the first time I've ever tried to write anything science fiction, (and it shows) so please give me feedback. (Good feedback, don't just write saying, "This sucks." Tell me why) This is my take on what may have happened, I hope you enjoy. The smell of acrid smoke tainted the air as the Pelican door opened, sounds of celebratory grenades and enthusiastic cheering invading their ears as they stepped off the ramp. Grit from a nearby explosion splashed over Simmons, scratching his visor as he tried to spit out grains of sand that could not get through his helmet. "Hey! Is that how you greet you're savoir!?" Simmons protested , aiming his words at rebels who were paying no attention to him. "By aiming the money shot at you? I wish that was my hero's welcome." Tucker replied. Suddenly, Washington appeared from the crowd, Carolina close behind him, the blood on their armour almost making them unrecognizable. "I'd let this one go, Simmons," Washington said, glancing over his shoulder before adding, "Hargrove has tried to make Chorus spill it's own blood for so long, now they want to destroy everything of his that they can get their hands on." As he spoke, a federation solider climbed over the leg of a mantis, sticking a grenade to it's side before jumping off. As the explosion scattered bolts and shrapnel all over the field, a huge cheer erupted from the watching rebel and federation forces. "Hah, these people know how to celebrate! What's a good firework show without the risk of being stabbed with flying metal?" Doc/O'Malley said, laughing as Simmons barely dodged a piece of debris the shape of a spearhead. "Don't go slacking off yet," Carolina barked at Grif, who was nervously edging away from the group in the direction of the base, "Kimball told us she would get them back in order soon, and dispose of all of this properly. So until the UNSC comes for Hargrove and gets us out of here, we may as well help them rebuild," She paused as she noticed Donut, his left arm hanging limply at his side, the bandages still dripping with blood, "Except you." "And why should we do that? We didn't make them start shooting each other!" Grif complained. "No, but they still need just as much inspiration now that they're facing the fallout of the war," Carolina pointed out before turning toward Tucker. "Hand over Epsilon. I want to see if there's any salvation for the computer systems around here." Tucker hesitated, he had hoped to talk to Church a little before he went back to Carolina. Nevertheless, he called, "Church? I know we said we would be exclusive, but Carolina wants you back now." Only silence answered him. "Church? Come on buddy, wake up." Still, no blue hologram appeared. "See? Why does Church get to take a nap-" Grif said, before Carolina silenced him with a glare. "You must not be doing it right. Church! Get over here!" Nothing. "Oh no, did you guys have a spat when you were alone? I can't remember a time you two were alone on the ship, but I guess you don't know what goes on when one of your friends is inside the other. " Donut said, oblivious to Sarge as he huffed in embarrassment. "No, there was nothing...like that, just, don't ever say that again!" Tucker snapped. "Church! Get the fuck up!" To his surprise, Delta appeared, his green aura duller than usual. "Private Tucker, I am afraid Epsilon is unavailable right now. We are still re charging from the firefight. He left a message for you. Would you like me to play it?" A small dose of confusion and foreboding zapped the base of Tucker's spine as he said, "Play." Delta faded away from view, and crackled static screeched through Tucker's helmet and the clearing, before abruptly stopping, Church's voice replacing it. "Hey guys, if you're listening to this, then it means you did it. You won." The deafening sound of his heartbeat began to thrum in Tucker's ears. This could not mean what he thought it did. It couldn't. "All of these things are what make me who I am...but they're also holding me back." This better be a joke, you son of a bitch. "But, I am leaving this message, as well as others, in the hopes that you'll understand why I have to go for good this time." You cannot be quitting on me again, motherfucker. "They'll never know if they're sacrifice made any difference. They just have to have faith. Ain't that a bitch?" Then, a high pitched buzzing cut out the frequency, before it went dead. "Would you like me to repeat the message, Private Tucker?" Delta asked politely. "No. I want you to bring out Church, now." Tucker growled, his grip on his sword handle tightening. "Tucker-" Washington began, but Delta cut him off, "I cannot do that, Epsilon has deconstructed himself, he no longer exists. Would you like me to play some of his other messages?" A strong wave of anger washed over his senses, so strong he didn't feel his legs shaking. "No. Transfer to Carolina." The faint green hologram faded out and instantly reappeared by Carolina's shoulder, who was staring at the ground like it was the most fascinating thing in the universe. "What a darn shame. Church was a fine solider, he deserved better than that." Sarge sighed, with more sorrow in his voice than Tucker ever heard before. "He was not a solider. He was a coward." Tucker growled, his hands balled into fists. Sarge swiveled his head toward him, squaring his shoulders like he was ready to argue, but Caboose interrupted whatever he was going to say, beaming, "That doesn't matter, now we can rebuild him like last time! He'll be better than ever, with the new memories we have! Santa can give us something to put him in!" "Caboose, it won't be like last time. Church, he... wanted, he needed..." Washington trailed off, slowly looking away from him as if Caboose's optimism hurt his eyes. Tucker turned from the group, walking toward a bluff in the distance. All he knew at that moment was that he wanted to be alone. No one called after him. The sun had sank halfway into the horizon when the noise of rebels and federation soldiers celebrating and clearing away rubble finally died down as the news of Church's demise trickled through the masses. Normally, they would be tearing up the night to welcome their new found peace, but now, all was quiet as the light bled upon the broken land, to show respect for their heroes loss. Just as the sky began to darken, the sound of metal scraping against gravel snapped Tucker out of his thoughtless laments. "Enough is enough, Tucker. You can't sit here forever." Washington said. "I am not going to sit here forever. Just, a really long time." Tucker snapped. "Come on, Tucks! There are more comfortable places to sit than dirt! Like park benches, or cheap office chairs, or narrow ledges!" To his irritation, Caboose appeared, grabbing his arm and pulling Tucker up to his feet with surprising strength. "Tucks?" He sneered. "Jensen said one of the best ways to cheer people up is give each other cool nicknames! Donut said he wanted to be called Peach because it's light red and pretty, and Grif was going to be named Large, but it went to Sarge instead because it rhymes. He was not happy about it." Caboose explained. "Caboose, how about you go ahead and tell the others I am bringing Tucker back?" Washington ordered gently, the concern in his voice clear. "Sure thing, Wash. See you back at base, Tucks!" Caboose called over his shoulder as sauntered away. Once he was out of earshot, Tucker said, "Do me a favour, and make sure no one ever calls me that again." To his surprise, Washington stayed silent, he only scanned the horizon as if he was searching for the right response. Tucker tried to walk past him, but he suddenly snapped back to attention, blocking Tucker's path with his arm. "Tucker, everyone can see that you're not taking this well." Washington began after a moment's hesitation. "Well, who would?" He snapped back. "No one, just, that's not what I meant." Washington sighed, lowering his arm to his side. "You called Church a coward. Lying to yourself about him or his intentions is only going to make things worse." "I am not lying, it's true. He left us to fight those mercs alone. Who else would do that but a coward?" Tucker said. Washington leaned his head to the side, stunned into silence for a brief moment. "This again? He died for us. He wouldn't have deconstructed himself if he didn't feel it wasn't necessary." Tucker looked away from him, and Washington added, "This is getting old, Tucker. He didn't abandon anyone. Don't bring up your old grievances, Church isn't here to argue with you anymore." "I don't care. He still chose this, and I don't have to accept it." Tucker growled before power walking down the hill. He barely took five steps before Washington's icy tone stopped him in his tracks, "Do you really think you're the only one who knows about loss?" A silent instinct urged Tucker to turn around, and when he did, he came face to face with Washington, who leered over him like he was about to attack. "Or did you just forget about my history while you were wallowing in sorrow over here?" Before Tucker could retort, he continued, "I know what it's like to lose your friends. I couldn't deal with the pain, so I forced myself to stop feeling it, to stop feeling everything. I let the ice grow from within, and look where it got me. Almost murdered by the last 'comrade' I had, that's what." Abruptly, he stopped, sighing in exhaustion. Washington turned away, as if he couldn't bear to look at Tucker anymore, and murmured, "You haven't lost everything, so don't act like you have. Now, come on, we've wasted enough time here." Without looking back, Washington briskly walked down the slope, his head bowed deeply. Tucker followed after a second of hesitation, his mind numb. Tucker awoke not to the bustle of federation and rebel soldiers clearing debris outside, rather the loud bickering he could not understand through the walls of the barracks. As he got up and walked out into the bright day, he recognized the voice of Donut, complaining, "No roses, no lilies, not even a few pitiful daisies? Do you expect me to just take these...weeds?!" "I am sorry, no one was out protecting the flowers from explosions or gunfire." Kimball's voice rasped in response, her flat tone making it clear her patience had gone awhile ago. Tucker turned the corner and saw the Red's as well as Kimball and Carolina standing in the clearing, Donut glumly holding a fistful of yellow flowers. "Don't worry, solider, roses and the like are overrated. Their smell is so nauseating. and they're so expensive, they think they're better than everyone else!" Sarge said. "Sir, with all..." Grif paused, sighing in exasperation before adding, "due respect, do you even listen to yourself anymore?!" Before an argument could break out, Tucker butted in, "So, um, you guys are all...talking about flowers? Is there anything that I missed recently, like, broken closet hinges?" "For your information, our closets are intact and closed, asshole." Simmons retorted, pausing as everyone stared at him questioningly. He shook himself before continuing, "The point is, these are for Church's funeral." Suddenly, a heavy weight slammed down over Tucker's shoulders. He had forgotten in his half asleep state of mind. "A funeral? For what? It's not like he was...alive, or anything." "A funeral isn't just about burying a body. It's about honouring the fallen." Kimball pointed out, purposefully turning her back to Tucker as she asked Carolina, "Now, are you sure you don't want anyone else there? My soldiers wouldn't hesitate to help pay respects to the one that saved their heroes." "No, it's fine, Kimball. You have your own ceremonies to plan." Carolina said with a quick glance at the Reds. It didn't take a genius to know that they'd all be uncomfortable accepting the respects of thousands of soldiers who, in the end, didn't know Church that well. "Alright. We're going to be kept busy building a new capital, but don't hesitate to call on me if you change your mind." Kimball said with a barely detectable trace of regret before walking away. When she was barely out of earshot, Donut sighed in frustration. "Well, if these are the best flowers I am going to get, I'll just have to make sure everything else is perfect! Grif, you said Doc was in the mess hall, right?" "Erm, yeah.." Grif replied slowly. "Then let's go! With his expertise in decoration, he can help us find the perfect bluff for Church's funeral. Nothing but the spot with the best natural lighting will do." Donut cried. "Wha-what do you mean, us?! What makes you think I want to go hiking to the tops of hills? That goes against my rule of not walking up-hill!" Grif protested. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because my arm still bleeds like a thirteen year old girl if I so much as move it the wrong way? I can't walk that far by myself!" Donut pointed out. "Well, that's a good reason to, you know, not go searching for funeral spots, and rest instead. Seriously, what do you people have against sleeping? Besides, you just said you wanted to take Doc with you. You won't be alone." Grif argued. "Um, Grif, I am not sure if a useless medic with a violent split personality counts as…real support." Simmons said. "Guys, I can't believe I am saying this, but I agree with Grif. Why should a crippled guy go hiking any-" Tucker began to but in, but suddenly Sarge stepped forward, staring down Grif intensely. "Grif, I ordered you to help Donut plan the funeral. This is important to him." He spoke in a soft, menacing growl that seemed to freeze everyone except Carolina to the ground. "Why aren't you making Simmons help? I just want to be alone!" Grif complained, his question left unanswered as Sarge bowed his chin, intensifying his stare as the shadows darkened his visor.After a brief stand off, Grif stepped away from him, muttering, "Yeah, kiss ass doesn't have to do any work," before following Donut to the mess hall. Tucker looked at Sarge in disbelief, wondering aloud, "Ok, first, I come out here to find you all talking about flowers, and then Sarge actually acts intimidating? Tell me, am I in a fever dream, or a drug induced nightmare?" "Hey, you don't need to be on drugs to find Sarge intimidating." Simmons said. "Maybe you don't, you damn pussy, but I wasn't asking you." Tucker retorted. "You need to grow a pair, Tucker," Sarge rasped, throwing Tucker off guard. Simmons snorted in satisfaction, and Carolina instinctively looked away to hide her smile...even if it was already hidden. Sarge turned toward the Tucker, saying, "I don't know what nonsense is swirling around in your head to call Church fake, but he was a still a friend to all of us, fancy blue hologram or robot body be damned. We're all hurting, but we all show it in different ways. After you went wandering off like a scalded cat, Grif was shutting everyone out. And I won't let that dirtbag cut off the people who can help him through it." "See, that's kind of the whole problem. Since when have you cared about helping other people, let alone Grif?" Tucker questioned. "Helping?" Sarge echoed, chuckling softly. "I prefer to see it as steering him away from me. Right now..." He paused, looking off into the distance where Grif, Donut, and Doc/O'Malley were barely visible on a small ridge. Donut suddenly stumbled, barely avoiding falling on his face as Grif held him up. The wind barely carried over the sound of Grif's complaining to where they stood. Sarge sighed heavily, adding, "I am too tired to insult him directly." Carolina walked past him, pausing for a split second as if she was considering patting Sarge on the shoulder, then decided against it. "Tucker, can I speak to you alone for a minute?" She asked. Bow chika bow wow, Out of habit, Tucker said the words in his head, but out loud, he replied, "Um, sure?" Once Carolina and Tucker had walked out of earshot of the two Red's, who had been called for help by a group of federation soldiers struggling with a sputtering vehicle nearby, Carolina held out her arm for them to stop. "Listen, Tucker, Wash and I have been talking, and we decided that we need to get it through Caboose's head that Church is gone. The longer he thinks he's going to come back, the more damage he's going to do to himself, and everyone around him." Carolina said. "Why not? He's lived in denial every other time Church left." Tucker pointed out. "Because this time isn't like the others," Carolina snapped, "You heard that message as well as the rest of us, there is no coming back for him this time." Tucker hesitated. Somewhere, far under the surface, he had a nagging feeling that she was wrong. "Fine, so Church isn't coming back and you want to make Caboose understand that. Why are you telling me this? Go tell Caboose." Tucker argued. "That's my point. I want you to tell Caboose." Carolina said, a small weight suddenly pressing on his brain. "Good morning, Private Tucker." Delta's voice hummed out of his helmet. "Whoa! What the fuck?! At least warn me when you're about to do that!" Tucker shouted, almost losing his balance. "I played back some of the messages Delta has. Church left a individual message for each one of us. I think you should be the one to play Caboose's message for him." Carolina explained, ignoring Tucker's outburst. "Again, why?! We don't even like each other! I am probably the worst choice for this!" Tucker yelped. "Because you were allies from the beginning, when you still fought with the Reds. You still trusted each other enough to turn your back on the other. You've both known Church as a friend longer than any of us. That has to stand for something." Carolina listed off the reasons like items from a grocery list, emotionless and disinterested, her voice faltering as she said the last sentence. Tucker blinked as Carolina's posture sagged, the only sign of weakness she had shown since Church's message was played yesterday. The silence stretched out between them as Tucker slowly took two steps back, finally murmuring, "I...I shouldn't be the one to do this." Carolina snorted, snapping, "Why? Because you're in denial yourself?!" Her words made Tucker start, and before he could think of something to say, she stomped toward him, spitting, "Sarge may have refused to order you around because you're not his subordinate, but I will. You need to do this, Tucker, not just for Caboose, but for yourself. The grief is too heavy for you to hold alone." Tucker wanted to tell her off, but his mind went blank. His eyes flickered briefly to Carolina's, and he felt the cold breeze of defeat sigh in his bones. "Okay, fine, I'll do it. But only because you sound hot." Tucker agreed begrudgingly. "Don't make me stab you. Come on, Caboose is this way." Carolina said, leading him toward the remains of the base. The farther Carolina and Tucker walked, the more scattered scrap metal and broken wires they had to step around. As they turned around the corner of a nearly decimated wall, a flurry of crashing metal and breaking glass shattered the unsettling silence. "Tucker did it!" Caboose cried from somewhere behind the small pile of junk, the parts on top collapsing to reveal Caboose's oil covered helmet as he tried to remove a coil of wire from the bottom of the pile. "He's not even here, Caboose. Why don't you just take a break and- " Washington suddenly appeared from the other side of the rubble, cutting himself off when he spotted Tucker and Carolina. He tensed up immediately, whispering coolly, "I told you, Carolina, I got this." "No you don't. Gentleness isn't going to get this through his skull. Let Tucker handle it." Carolina hissed back. Understanding washed over Tucker like a strong ray of light. "Oh, I see. You decided, by yourself, to get the jackass to tell Caboose. Real nice." Tucker complained. "Just get in there." Carolina said, shoving Tucker roughly. Washington looked back from Carolina to Tucker for several seconds, but didn't protest any further. Taking a deep breath, Tucker started walking toward Caboose, but stopped when he saw the weird objects on what was supposed to be a workbench behind him. They all looked somewhat like the alien artifact Caboose had transplanted Church into the first time he was disassembled, (Tucker still had nightmares about his "laser face".) except with wires holding chunks of steel and copper into a vaguely spherical shape. Mounds of white, grainy slime glued the parts together where the wire had snapped, but where did Caboose find glue around here? Unless it was...paper pulp? "Caboose, I swear if you melted down my po-, um, art, collection," Tucker stammered angrily, barely remembering Carolina's presence in time, "for... whatever this is, I..." "Tucker! You're finally here!" Caboose said, instantly dropping the wire and running to Tucker, dragging him over to the workbench before he could finish his complaint. Just when Tucker tried to think of a time Caboose was actually happy to see him, the blue solider cut off his thoughts, asking, "Which one do you like? I want Church to be as happy with his new body as possible, and since Wash refused to let me paint his armour and let Church have it when he comes back, we'll have to use one of these until we can find something better!" "Are you sure these are our only options?" Tucker pondered, reluctant enthusiasm overtaking his tone like a parent praising their child's horrible art project.Tucker swore he could see twigs sticking out from the holes in the sides. Caboose ignored his question, repeating, "So, which one do you think? I like the middle one myself, but I'll let you pick one, too!" "Well, if I had to choose one..." Tucker said, glancing back at Carolina and Washington. Releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding, he added, "Actually, before I decide, you should listen to this." "Listen to what? Oh, is it a song? Is that why Carolina and Wash are here? They must be the back up singers!" Caboose said, clapping his hands excitedly. "Wha-no! It's a message, from Church." Tucker said, silently asking Delta to come out. The green AI appeared, but before he could ask him to play the message, Caboose interrupted, "But I already listened to that! Now, we just have to assemble him again!" Tucker blinked, thinking back to the first message Church had left behind. Caboose must have selective hearing as well as stupidity. "No, this is a different message. It's for you specifically." He turned to Delta, not wanting to give Caboose another chance to cut him off, "Delta, play Caboose's message." "Affirmative." Delta replied, fading out as Church's voice once again amplified through Tucker's helmet. "Caboose, this is important, so I need you to focus, alright? I know you probably didn't get it when I said it the first time, so I am going to repeat it; I am not coming back." That got his attention. Caboose dropped the sphere he was holding as the recorded voice continued, "I know this is going to be hard for you to accept, almost impossible for you to understand, so I just want you to hold these words close to you until the day that they finally make sense." Delta teleported over to Caboose's palm, a loud, irritating buzz replacing Church's voice until Caboose closed his hands around Delta. His voice came back, then quickly faded into nothing as Caboose started nodding slowly. Tucker watched in confusion for a moment, then realization dawned over him; whatever else Church had to say, was for Caboose to hear alone. After what seemed like an eternity, Caboose opened his palms, and Delta reappeared by Tucker's shoulder. Slowly, Caboose turned back to his paper and twig spheres, and picked one up, staring at it intently. Washington approached carefully, but before he could say anything, Caboose muttered, "Needs paint." "I am sorry, what?" Tucker said, dismay itching through his skin as Caboose rapidly began searching through the piles of junk again. "Church just doesn't know he wants to come back, that's all! We'll paint up this sphere to his old colour, resurrect him, and it will be like he never left!" Caboose said, desperation mounting in his voice as he yanked out a large piece of metal, rubbing off the rust to look at the colour underneath. A cold tide of nameless emotion flowed through Tucker's mind. This wasn't stupidity, this was full blown denial. "Calm down, Caboose, just stop and listen to me. There's nothing left of Church to rebuild." Washington urged. "That's what you said about Freckles! But look, now he's a gun!" Caboose argued, holding up his rifle in the air, confetti bursting from the barrel as if to prove his point. "No, that isn't what I said. The only thing left of him was the chip. Church was different, there was no physical form of him at all." Washington reasoned. "I am not listening to you. Blah, blah, blah..." Caboose began to blather as Washington stood over him, who only bothered to try and get in a word when Caboose paused to take a breath. Watching this, something inside Tucker snapped, the weight of all that was said to him yesterday and today crushing him. "Snap out of it, Caboose!" Tucker shouted, "He's gone! He abandoned you, he abandoned me, he abandoned all of us! Again! Why won't you just accept that?" Caboose cowered under him as he stammered, "B...but, last ti-time, we fixed him, like a, a- " "You can’t fix him now! He chose to die! He knew he couldn't be brought back again, and he did it anyway, so get it through your dumb skull. He's not coming back, and he's never coming back!" His words echoed into the distance, slowly fading away as their meaning finally sank in, as if he was hearing them for the first time. "Fake" people didn't make decisions like this. "He's gone, he's...gone." Tucker repeated, trying to choke back the growing lump in his throat. Instantly, the panicked energy Caboose had seemed to dissolve. He gradually stood up, walking past Washington and stepping on the sphere he had dropped, the metal crunching under his boot. Washington swiveled his head toward Carolina, sneering, "Oh yeah, that turned out great." "It was the only way." Carolina insisted, although she sounded uncertain. She directed her attention to Tucker. "Now it's your turn." "Um, for what?" Tucker wondered, more interested in where Caboose had wandered off as Washington began to follow him. "Your message, dumb ass." Carolina said. Tucker froze, looking at Delta through his peripheral vision. "I said Church left a message for all of us, remember? Did you think that excluded you?" Carolina reminded him. "No, it just occurred to me, that you somehow knew that Church left individual words for everyone. Last time I checked, Delta didn't have a labelling system." Tucker suggested. "You seriously think I would eavesdrop on that sort of thing?! All of the files are encrypted, like Caboose's. I could only play a certain portion before it would stop." Carolina explained. That was one less worry on Tucker's mind. He was pretty sure whatever Church had left for him was very incriminating. But still, he hesitated. Curiosity was making his brain toss and turn, but the command wouldn't form on his tongue. "Well, what are you waiting for?" Carolina asked. "I...once I listen to it..." Tucker whispered, unable to say anymore as he tore his eyes away from Delta's shimmering aura. "Oh." The sound was barely a sigh as it left Carolina's chest, and she scanned the horizon as the awkward lull pressed down on them. Abruptly, she spoke again, "I know how that feels. Take your time." She ambled away, barely glimpsing back as she left Tucker alone with his thoughts. Time crawled by like it was shot in both of it's ankles, the thin, ribbon like clouds appearing to point at the sun as it inched across the sky. With each gentle wisp of wind, he heard the words resonate in his head. I just want you to hold these words close to you until the day that they finally make sense... The grief is too heavy for you to hold alone... You haven't lost everything, so don't act like you have... He's gone...he's gone. Every passing hour they seemed to ring louder and louder, an almost constant background noise to his memories as he was helplessly dragged through the past. Gasping for breath, he tried to fish his mind out of the flood as he remembered arguments, the bad and the weird times, a few rare instances when they kicked ass, but it always slipped out of his grasp and floated away deeper into his conscious. At last, when twilight began to settle over the horizon, exhaustion dulled his frayed nerves, and his thoughts came to a stand still. He closed his eyes against the strong orange light, and breathed, "Delta, play the message." "Playing," Delta replied, the familiar static making him flinch before the voice kicked in, "Hi, buddy, you just have to love the irony, here, right? Just after you finally stop whining about me leaving you guys in a canyon, I make you listen to my ramblings like a dead guy that had a tape recorder. In any case, I hope you haven't been harassing the others about what an asshole I am. And if you have been, then, what the fuck dude? I am dead, have some respect. Don't get me wrong, I get it. Grief does some fucked up shit to you. But one way or another, you have to find a way to live with this man, in a way that won't make you self destruct. I am not going to lie, it might take awhile to find it, but don't expect the scars to heal completely, because they won't. The sting may lessen over time, but you'll always carry it, and that's just the price of life. For every breath we take, every joy we get to experience, life will cut more and more losses into our skin that we have to carry. But those memories, and the friends that you still have by you, make it all worth it. You would never have anything good to remember on a lonely night if you played it safe and never reached out. Yeah, you would never get hurt, but you would also never truly live. The sound of Church's laughter briefly filled Tucker's ears before he continued, "Stop me if you heard that one already. But cliché’s are cliché’s for a reason, buddy. Just, whenever you feel like the agony might be unbearable, just remember this; those memories are painful because they are worth remembering. Whenever you are going through a loss, just try to be grateful that they made their absence so hard to accept." There was a long pause, and Tucker thought that the message ended, but then he heard the last words he'd ever hear of Church, "I... I am glad that you were my friend, even if we were assholes to eachother. See you on the other side, Tucker." Tucker stared off into space, hoping against hope that there was more, but only silence greeted him. He murmured, "Play it one more time, Delta." Tucker listened as the night overtook the day, the first star searing a place for itself in the same spot where the last of the light disappeared. He sat there for a few hours, holding back the tears that stung his eyes. When the moon was at it's peak in the sky, Tucker approached the base, surprised to hear his friends talking outside. He turned the corner and saw them standing in a circle, overhearing Sarge saying, "And remember that time we had to negotiate surrender after someone forgot to bring the bullets? Do you still like to kiss all the boys, Grif?" Grif's only response was an audible sigh. "What about that time you idiots were blasted through time by Church's own abdomen bomb? Now that was a spectacle!" O'Malley cried. "Yeah, but an awfully violent one!" Doc protested. So this is how they're dealing with it, Tucker thought, I guess they didn't need Church's "sage" advice. When Grif started talking, Tucker remembered, or, just different advice from mine. Caboose stood just outside the circle, staring at his own feet. Tucker inched closer, barely able to hear him sniffling. I guess Carolina didn't have the right idea after all. Damn it, I am going to hate myself for this. Despite his instincts screaming at him not to, Tucker stepped beside Caboose, whispering, "Hey." "You're not going to have another yelling episode, are you? I don't want mean people yelling at me anymore." Caboose whined. "No, I am not. And I am sorry for that. Why don't we go talk to the others?" Tucker said. "I think I just want to be alone." Caboose moaned. "But you're not. Come on, at least talk to them for a little while. It will make you feel a bit better, I promise. If you need to, you can have some alone time later." Tucker assured him, patiently waiting until Caboose followed him into the circle. Washington turned as they came near, and stood aside to make room. Everyone turned for a split second as Caboose stopped beside Washington, then continued talking, relief spelled across their relaxed shoulders. Despite himself, Tucker smiled, a tiny shard of hope igniting within as Caboose recalled the time Church and Tex hunted down O'Malley in his mind. Church's funeral was prepared and ready after three more depressing days. Donut had woken them up half an hour before dawn, much to everyone's annoyance, to lead them to the spot he and Doc had chose. As Tucker blinked the sleep out of his eyes, he noticed Sarge and Simmons were already gone. "Hey, did anyone see where Sarge or Simmons went?" He asked. "No, and I don't care, as long as he's out of lecturing range." Grif said between yawns. Donut replied, "Don't worry about it, they're making... arrangements. Now come on, before..." "Noo!" A piercing scream split through the air, and Tucker spun to see Grey storming toward Donut. "Oh, God, she's here! Protect me!" Donut yelped, hiding behind Washington. "You can't hide when she's already seen you, Donut." Washington sighed, shaking him off as Grey stepped toward him. "You're supposed to be resting! You can't put any unnecessary strain on that arm! You already pushed your luck running off the other day without even asking me for clearance!" She fumed, seeming to push Donut toward the barracks by mental thought alone. "Grey, please." Carolina said, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. Everyone seemed to back up at once, the collective thought across the clearing being that Carolina was about to get sliced open. "Planning this was Donut's way of coping. Please don't make him stay here." Carolina reasoned. Grey hesitated, so she added, "I'll make sure he doesn't push himself, and that he rests when this is done. Right?" Her voice grew ominously low as she turned her gaze on Donut. "Um, right?" Donut squeaked, shrinking under both of the ladies glares. Grey still paused, then huffed, "Fine. I have other patients that won't waste my time by running around. At least take this with you," She handed Carolina a large wad of gauze before adding, "And bring him back here right away if it re opens." With that, she trotted back to the sick bay, leaving the red's and blue's to their funeral. It seemed like hours had gone by when the terrain under Tucker's feet flattened, and Donut called for them to stop. "Seriously, why did you have to pick the steepest hill around here?! Do you know how hard it was to haul this piece of junk up here?!" A shrill voice complained as Tucker bent down to catch his breath. It took him a few moments to register what had been said. "Hey, that's my complaint-" Tucker stopped when he saw the broken down warthog filled with bright yellow weeds, Sarge and Simmons standing beside it. "Why are you complaining? All you had to do was drive a vehicle up here, I had to follow these two idiots around to pick enough flowers to stuff into it!" Grif puffed. "Um, did you think Kimball just let us take a perfectly good warthog for this? I had to push it all the way up here!" Simmons retorted. Sarge chuckled, commenting, "Wasn't that much work for me. Now will you two stop belly aching, we have a dead solider to honour!" "Okay, fill me in. How exactly does a leaking warthog and a bunch of dandelions honour Church?" Washington inquired. "I remember caring for a plant when I was little, her name was Sally. One day, dandelions grew by and choked her up. She was my only friend!" Caboose sobbed. Tucker knitted his eyebrows in worry, at the same time surprised he felt an emotion other than disgust towards him. Caboose seemed to start crying at everything nowadays. "Isn't it obvious? We take a machine that's served long past it's days, and blow it up, from where everyone can see it for miles! A beautiful explosion to celebrate an exciting life!" Sarge explained. "I... guess that's kind of fitting." Carolina said, her tone conveying her reluctance to be directly associated with the idea. "So basically, almost everyone helped put this funeral together. I wish someone had told me about that sooner! Now I feel like a dick for not doing anything." Tucker fussed. "You can," Donut objected, dropping a grenade into his hand, "When I give the word, throw it at the warthog." He paced around the circle, giving everybody one grenade, When Caboose reached out for his, Tucker objected, "Whoa, I don't think you should get one, considering your.. track record." Donut nodded in agreement. "Oh, but, everyone else will get to part of the metaphor, and I won't. Is it because I wasn't important enough to Church?" Caboose lamented. Tucker exhaled, sneering, "Fine, but you'll get it when it's time." Donut stepped back into his place, and asked, "Okay, so.. who wants to say the first words?" After a brief moment, Sarge spoke up, "Throughout my military career, I've known a lot of soldiers who laid down their lives for a war that wasn't even real. I am happy one of our own chose to die for a good cause." More uncomfortable silence. Carolina sighed in exasperation before saying, "I never thought I'd find anyone who could help me leave the past behind. Thank you, Church." "I wish I had the chance to know him a bit longer. I guess, relatively, he didn't live that long, but," Washington scanned the faces around him meaningfully, "He's made such an impact." "Church was a bitch sometimes, but he was our bitch." Donut sniffed, his voice on the verge of sobs. "Who would have thought I'd ever be mourning for a blue? I am going to miss you, pal." Simmons added. "He was an admirable adversary and ally! That can't be said for others very often!" O'Malley laughed. "And he was so soft on the inside, despite his tough shell, just like a cookie!" Doc butted in. Grif moaned, "We're really doing this? Genuine compliments aren't my thing." He stood in contemplation for a second, then said, "I thought he was a douche, but after being locked up with him in a jail for eight hours, I realized... he wasn't a complete douche. Goodbye, Church." Panic stiffened his insides like starched laundry when Tucker realized he and Caboose were the only ones left. Quickly, he elbowed Caboose in the back while his mind raced through words. Caboose raised his shoulders to his head like he was trying to withdraw into a shell as everyone looked at him. Finally, he stammered, "Ch...Church was m…my friend. My best friend. And now he's gone forever, and it makes me sad! Why won't he come back?! I don't want to be sad all the time!" Caboose turned his back to them, barrelling into Tucker for a hug as he tried to hide his face under his armpit like a cat. Tucker tolerated it for an unbearable ten seconds, until Caboose seemed to realize what he was doing and let go, making a grossed out tch noise. After the shock of Caboose touching him wore off, Tucker realized all eyes were on him. Unable to take the pressure of everyone's attention, he looked down, and said, "What is there to say? He was my friend...and, and for the longest time, I didn't even know. How could you call someone you fought with most of the time your friend? Yet, when push comes to shove, there was never any doubt we'd be there for eachother. And then it hit me. There's a word for a best friend you argued with all the time. Church, was like, my... my brother, and you can never replace a brother like him." He cringed, pausing to keep his voice steady. He released a deep breath, and whispered loudly, "Stop me if you heard that one already." He lifted his head when a faint glow hurt his eye, and immediately understood why Donut chose this spot. The sun was a giant in the sky, leaning over them as if it was curious about what was going on. It's angle formed a golden silhouette over the warthog, it's edges white beams of light on the grass underfoot, making the whole plain seem serene and heavenly. The clouds that rolled like gentle hills in the low horizon were stained a vivid orange as they rose and fell through the empty air, like fluffy whales. "See? Now that's a backdrop you send off you're best friend to! Okay, everyone step back, it's time." Donut said. He took out his grenade, handing one to Caboose before they took their place just under the crest of the hill. In one swift motion, they all threw their grenades, the only ones landing in the warthog being the ones thrown by Donut, Washington and Carolina. The rest landed relatively nearby, and then, they exploded one after another, pieces of glass and metal turned into a tide of sun catchers against the light.The left tire burst into chunks, the disproportioned weight causing the warthog to tip to one side. Ever so slowly, it capsized, the half incinerated petals blown into the wind as it rolled down the hill with a symphony of crunches and squeals. When the noise finally stopped, traces of smoke beginning to rise, a defective grenade finally exploded, sending up a spray of earth on the opposite bank, as if for good measure. The petals drifted down the wind currents over the reds and blues, encouraging Caboose to shout, "Yeah! This is for Sally, dandelions!" Holding up his grenade, he wound up for a throw. "Caboose, what are you doing?! You were supposed to throw it before the warthog blew up!" Donut cried as Caboose tossed it into the ground directly in front of his feet. "Goddamn it, Caboose! Take cover!" Tucker shouted unnecessarily as every one dived backward before the explosion let loose a flood of dirt and grass on top of them. Shaking off the soil that covered his legs, he heard Washington say, "That was the third worst throw, ever. Of all time." "Not my fault. Tucker did it." Caboose replied, only his head visible above the grass clippings. "See, I told you that was a bad idea, Sarge! Now the funeral's ruined." Donut whined. "Nonsense! Screwing up an idea that was already dumb and nearly getting ourselves killed in the process? Church wouldn't have had it any other way." Sarge said. "No, he wouldn't have." Simmons agreed, his voice choked up. Tucker knelt in the grass, shaking the dirt of his arms as he stood. Looking around, he saw eyes go back and forth meeting one another, until a silent agreement seemed to be reached. Climbing back to the top of the hill, they watched the smoke curdle up into the atmosphere, painted into gold from the early morning flare. Washington stopped beside Tucker, craning his neck up toward the spot where the sky swallowed up any sign of smog. A loud sniff from Donut made Tucker look to his left, and he just barely caught the glint of welling tears under Washington's visor before he looked away. You haven't lost everything. Probably for the fifth time this week, his words repeated themselves in Tucker's head. Surveying the people around him, he thought, And it only took several scolding’s, one emotional breakdown, a message from beyond the grave and a chaotic funeral for me to finally figure out what that meant. A strange feeling of hope bloomed in his gut, even as the memories assaulted his conscience, and his eyes stung. But, damn it, it still hurts. Finally, he let the tears wash down, his sorrow held back too long to be denied any longer. He tried to breath without sniveling as his throat closed up, and failed. Washington glanced at him as Tucker bowed his head, embarrassed. Washington reached over his shoulders with his arm, purposefully looking away as Tucker sobbed quietly. When I first came back as Epsilon, I had a lot of data, memories, of the freelancers, how so many of them died unburied and unmourned. I don't exactly have anything to bury, but don't forget the whole mourning part, all right? I know you guys are going to throw some ridiculous funeral, so, Donut, make it classy for me. Well, as classy as you can with these guys around to attend it. And after it's over, try to remember that, moving on and forgetting are not the same thing. Having the courage to carry those memories with you rather than trying to sever it from yourself is one of the greatest feats of strength you can ever achieve. Believe me, I know. You, you all made my life it's own, and, now, I, guess were even. Thank you. I admire the gutsy move Miles pulled for the Season 13 finale, but killing off my favorite character combined with the lack of closure was killing me. I eventually decided the only way to move on was to invent my own closure, so I wrote this short story, on how the Red's and Blue's discovered that Church was gone for good and how they dealt with it. Although, I did goof up horribly and forgot to write in Lopez, so, please forgive me for that. Constructive criticism is welcome, this is the first time I've ever tried to write anything science fiction, (and it shows) so please give me feedback. (Good feedback, don't just write saying, "This sucks." Tell me why) This is my take on what may have happened, I hope you enjoy. The smell of acrid smoke tainted the air as the Pelican door opened, sounds of celebratory grenades and enthusiastic cheering invading their ears as they stepped off the ramp. Grit from a nearby explosion splashed over Simmons, scratching his visor as he tried to spit out grains of sand that could not get through his helmet. "Hey! Is that how you greet you're savoir!?" Simmons protested , aiming his words at rebels who were paying no attention to him. "By aiming the money shot at you? I wish that was my hero's welcome." Tucker replied. Suddenly, Washington appeared from the crowd, Carolina close behind him, the blood on their armour almost making them unrecognizable. "I'd let this one go, Simmons," Washington said, glancing over his shoulder before adding, "Hargrove has tried to make Chorus spill it's own blood for so long, now they want to destroy everything of his that they can get their hands on." As he spoke, a federation solider climbed over the leg of a mantis, sticking a grenade to it's side before jumping off. As the explosion scattered bolts and shrapnel all over the field, a huge cheer erupted from the watching rebel and federation forces. "Hah, these people know how to celebrate! What's a good firework show without the risk of being stabbed with flying metal?" Doc/O'Malley said, laughing as Simmons barely dodged a piece of debris the shape of a spearhead. "Don't go slacking off yet," Carolina barked at Grif, who was nervously edging away from the group in the direction of the base, "Kimball told us she would get them back in order soon, and dispose of all of this properly. So until the UNSC comes for Hargrove and gets us out of here, we may as well help them rebuild," She paused as she noticed Donut, his left arm hanging limply at his side, the bandages still dripping with blood, "Except you." "And why should we do that? We didn't make them start shooting each other!" Grif complained. "No, but they still need just as much inspiration now that they're facing the fallout of the war," Carolina pointed out before turning toward Tucker. "Hand over Epsilon. I want to see if there's any salvation for the computer systems around here." Tucker hesitated, he had hoped to talk to Church a little before he went back to Carolina. Nevertheless, he called, "Church? I know we said we would be exclusive, but Carolina wants you back now." Only silence answered him. "Church? Come on buddy, wake up." Still, no blue hologram appeared. "See? Why does Church get to take a nap-" Grif said, before Carolina silenced him with a glare. "You must not be doing it right. Church! Get over here!" Nothing. "Oh no, did you guys have a spat when you were alone? I can't remember a time you two were alone on the ship, but I guess you don't know what goes on when one of your friends is inside the other. " Donut said, oblivious to Sarge as he huffed in embarrassment. "No, there was nothing...like that, just, don't ever say that again!" Tucker snapped. "Church! Get the fuck up!" To his surprise, Delta appeared, his green aura duller than usual. "Private Tucker, I am afraid Epsilon is unavailable right now. We are still re charging from the firefight. He left a message for you. Would you like me to play it?" A small dose of confusion and foreboding zapped the base of Tucker's spine as he said, "Play." Delta faded away from view, and crackled static screeched through Tucker's helmet and the clearing, before abruptly stopping, Church's voice replacing it. "Hey guys, if you're listening to this, then it means you did it. You won." The deafening sound of his heartbeat began to thrum in Tucker's ears. This could not mean what he thought it did. It couldn't. "All of these things are what make me who I am...but they're also holding me back." This better be a joke, you son of a bitch. "But, I am leaving this message, as well as others, in the hopes that you'll understand why I have to go for good this time." You cannot be quitting on me again, motherfucker. "They'll never know if they're sacrifice made any difference. They just have to have faith. Ain't that a bitch?" Then, a high pitched buzzing cut out the frequency, before it went dead. "Would you like me to repeat the message, Private Tucker?" Delta asked politely. "No. I want you to bring out Church, now." Tucker growled, his grip on his sword handle tightening. "Tucker-" Washington began, but Delta cut him off, "I cannot do that, Epsilon has deconstructed himself, he no longer exists. Would you like me to play some of his other messages?" A strong wave of anger washed over his senses, so strong he didn't feel his legs shaking. "No. Transfer to Carolina." The faint green hologram faded out and instantly reappeared by Carolina's shoulder, who was staring at the ground like it was the most fascinating thing in the universe. "What a darn shame. Church was a fine solider, he deserved better than that." Sarge sighed, with more sorrow in his voice than Tucker ever heard before. "He was not a solider. He was a coward." Tucker growled, his hands balled into fists. Sarge swiveled his head toward him, squaring his shoulders like he was ready to argue, but Caboose interrupted whatever he was going to say, beaming, "That doesn't matter, now we can rebuild him like last time! He'll be better than ever, with the new memories we have! Santa can give us something to put him in!" "Caboose, it won't be like last time. Church, he... wanted, he needed..." Washington trailed off, slowly looking away from him as if Caboose's optimism hurt his eyes. Tucker turned from the group, walking toward a bluff in the distance. All he knew at that moment was that he wanted to be alone. No one called after him. The sun had sank halfway into the horizon when the noise of rebels and federation soldiers celebrating and clearing away rubble finally died down as the news of Church's demise trickled through the masses. Normally, they would be tearing up the night to welcome their new found peace, but now, all was quiet as the light bled upon the broken land, to show respect for their heroes loss. Just as the sky began to darken, the sound of metal scraping against gravel snapped Tucker out of his thoughtless laments. "Enough is enough, Tucker. You can't sit here forever." Washington said. "I am not going to sit here forever. Just, a really long time." Tucker snapped. "Come on, Tucks! There are more comfortable places to sit than dirt! Like park benches, or cheap office chairs, or narrow ledges!" To his irritation, Caboose appeared, grabbing his arm and pulling Tucker up to his feet with surprising strength. "Tucks?" He sneered. "Jensen said one of the best ways to cheer people up is give each other cool nicknames! Donut said he wanted to be called Peach because it's light red and pretty, and Grif was going to be named Large, but it went to Sarge instead because it rhymes. He was not happy about it." Caboose explained. "Caboose, how about you go ahead and tell the others I am bringing Tucker back?" Washington ordered gently, the concern in his voice clear. "Sure thing, Wash. See you back at base, Tucks!" Caboose called over his shoulder as sauntered away. Once he was out of earshot, Tucker said, "Do me a favour, and make sure no one ever calls me that again." To his surprise, Washington stayed silent, he only scanned the horizon as if he was searching for the right response. Tucker tried to walk past him, but he suddenly snapped back to attention, blocking Tucker's path with his arm. "Tucker, everyone can see that you're not taking this well." Washington began after a moment's hesitation. "Well, who would?" He snapped back. "No one, just, that's not what I meant." Washington sighed, lowering his arm to his side. "You called Church a coward. Lying to yourself about him or his intentions is only going to make things worse." "I am not lying, it's true. He left us to fight those mercs alone. Who else would do that but a coward?" Tucker said. Washington leaned his head to the side, stunned into silence for a brief moment. "This again? He died for us. He wouldn't have deconstructed himself if he didn't feel it wasn't necessary." Tucker looked away from him, and Washington added, "This is getting old, Tucker. He didn't abandon anyone. Don't bring up your old grievances, Church isn't here to argue with you anymore." "I don't care. He still chose this, and I don't have to accept it." Tucker growled before power walking down the hill. He barely took five steps before Washington's icy tone stopped him in his tracks, "Do you really think you're the only one who knows about loss?" A silent instinct urged Tucker to turn around, and when he did, he came face to face with Washington, who leered over him like he was about to attack. "Or did you just forget about my history while you were wallowing in sorrow over here?" Before Tucker could retort, he continued, "I know what it's like to lose your friends. I couldn't deal with the pain, so I forced myself to stop feeling it, to stop feeling everything. I let the ice grow from within, and look where it got me. Almost murdered by the last 'comrade' I had, that's what." Abruptly, he stopped, sighing in exhaustion. Washington turned away, as if he couldn't bear to look at Tucker anymore, and murmured, "You haven't lost everything, so don't act like you have. Now, come on, we've wasted enough time here." Without looking back, Washington briskly walked down the slope, his head bowed deeply. Tucker followed after a second of hesitation, his mind numb. Tucker awoke not to the bustle of federation and rebel soldiers clearing debris outside, rather the loud bickering he could not understand through the walls of the barracks. As he got up and walked out into the bright day, he recognized the voice of Donut, complaining, "No roses, no lilies, not even a few pitiful daisies? Do you expect me to just take these...weeds?!" "I am sorry, no one was out protecting the flowers from explosions or gunfire." Kimball's voice rasped in response, her flat tone making it clear her patience had gone awhile ago. Tucker turned the corner and saw the Red's as well as Kimball and Carolina standing in the clearing, Donut glumly holding a fistful of yellow flowers. "Don't worry, solider, roses and the like are overrated. Their smell is so nauseating. and they're so expensive, they think they're better than everyone else!" Sarge said. "Sir, with all..." Grif paused, sighing in exasperation before adding, "due respect, do you even listen to yourself anymore?!" Before an argument could break out, Tucker butted in, "So, um, you guys are all...talking about flowers? Is there anything that I missed recently, like, broken closet hinges?" "For your information, our closets are intact and closed, asshole." Simmons retorted, pausing as everyone stared at him questioningly. He shook himself before continuing, "The point is, these are for Church's funeral." Suddenly, a heavy weight slammed down over Tucker's shoulders. He had forgotten in his half asleep state of mind. "A funeral? For what? It's not like he was...alive, or anything." "A funeral isn't just about burying a body. It's about honouring the fallen." Kimball pointed out, purposefully turning her back to Tucker as she asked Carolina, "Now, are you sure you don't want anyone else there? My soldiers wouldn't hesitate to help pay respects to the one that saved their heroes." "No, it's fine, Kimball. You have your own ceremonies to plan." Carolina said with a quick glance at the Reds. It didn't take a genius to know that they'd all be uncomfortable accepting the respects of thousands of soldiers who, in the end, didn't know Church that well. "Alright. We're going to be kept busy building a new capital, but don't hesitate to call on me if you change your mind." Kimball said with a barely detectable trace of regret before walking away. When she was barely out of earshot, Donut sighed in frustration. "Well, if these are the best flowers I am going to get, I'll just have to make sure everything else is perfect! Grif, you said Doc was in the mess hall, right?" "Erm, yeah.." Grif replied slowly. "Then let's go! With his expertise in decoration, he can help us find the perfect bluff for Church's funeral. Nothing but the spot with the best natural lighting will do." Donut cried. "Wha-what do you mean, us?! What makes you think I want to go hiking to the tops of hills? That goes against my rule of not walking up-hill!" Grif protested. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because my arm still bleeds like a thirteen year old girl if I so much as move it the wrong way? I can't walk that far by myself!" Donut pointed out. "Well, that's a good reason to, you know, not go searching for funeral spots, and rest instead. Seriously, what do you people have against sleeping? Besides, you just said you wanted to take Doc with you. You won't be alone." Grif argued. "Um, Grif, I am not sure if a useless medic with a violent split personality counts as…real support." Simmons said. "Guys, I can't believe I am saying this, but I agree with Grif. Why should a crippled guy go hiking any-" Tucker began to but in, but suddenly Sarge stepped forward, staring down Grif intensely. "Grif, I ordered you to help Donut plan the funeral. This is important to him." He spoke in a soft, menacing growl that seemed to freeze everyone except Carolina to the ground. "Why aren't you making Simmons help? I just want to be alone!" Grif complained, his question left unanswered as Sarge bowed his chin, intensifying his stare as the shadows darkened his visor.After a brief stand off, Grif stepped away from him, muttering, "Yeah, kiss ass doesn't have to do any work," before following Donut to the mess hall. Tucker looked at Sarge in disbelief, wondering aloud, "Ok, first, I come out here to find you all talking about flowers, and then Sarge actually acts intimidating? Tell me, am I in a fever dream, or a drug induced nightmare?" "Hey, you don't need to be on drugs to find Sarge intimidating." Simmons said. "Maybe you don't, you damn pussy, but I wasn't asking you." Tucker retorted. "You need to grow a pair, Tucker," Sarge rasped, throwing Tucker off guard. Simmons snorted in satisfaction, and Carolina instinctively looked away to hide her smile...even if it was already hidden. Sarge turned toward the Tucker, saying, "I don't know what nonsense is swirling around in your head to call Church fake, but he was a still a friend to all of us, fancy blue hologram or robot body be damned. We're all hurting, but we all show it in different ways. After you went wandering off like a scalded cat, Grif was shutting everyone out. And I won't let that dirtbag cut off the people who can help him through it." "See, that's kind of the whole problem. Since when have you cared about helping other people, let alone Grif?" Tucker questioned. "Helping?" Sarge echoed, chuckling softly. "I prefer to see it as steering him away from me. Right now..." He paused, looking off into the distance where Grif, Donut, and Doc/O'Malley were barely visible on a small ridge. Donut suddenly stumbled, barely avoiding falling on his face as Grif held him up. The wind barely carried over the sound of Grif's complaining to where they stood. Sarge sighed heavily, adding, "I am too tired to insult him directly." Carolina walked past him, pausing for a split second as if she was considering patting Sarge on the shoulder, then decided against it. "Tucker, can I speak to you alone for a minute?" She asked. Bow chika bow wow, Out of habit, Tucker said the words in his head, but out loud, he replied, "Um, sure?" Once Carolina and Tucker had walked out of earshot of the two Red's, who had been called for help by a group of federation soldiers struggling with a sputtering vehicle nearby, Carolina held out her arm for them to stop. "Listen, Tucker, Wash and I have been talking, and we decided that we need to get it through Caboose's head that Church is gone. The longer he thinks he's going to come back, the more damage he's going to do to himself, and everyone around him." Carolina said. "Why not? He's lived in denial every other time Church left." Tucker pointed out. "Because this time isn't like the others," Carolina snapped, "You heard that message as well as the rest of us, there is no coming back for him this time." Tucker hesitated. Somewhere, far under the surface, he had a nagging feeling that she was wrong. "Fine, so Church isn't coming back and you want to make Caboose understand that. Why are you telling me this? Go tell Caboose." Tucker argued. "That's my point. I want you to tell Caboose." Carolina said, a small weight suddenly pressing on his brain. "Good morning, Private Tucker." Delta's voice hummed out of his helmet. "Whoa! What the fuck?! At least warn me when you're about to do that!" Tucker shouted, almost losing his balance. "I played back some of the messages Delta has. Church left a individual message for each one of us. I think you should be the one to play Caboose's message for him." Carolina explained, ignoring Tucker's outburst. "Again, why?! We don't even like each other! I am probably the worst choice for this!" Tucker yelped. "Because you were allies from the beginning, when you still fought with the Reds. You still trusted each other enough to turn your back on the other. You've both known Church as a friend longer than any of us. That has to stand for something." Carolina listed off the reasons like items from a grocery list, emotionless and disinterested, her voice faltering as she said the last sentence. Tucker blinked as Carolina's posture sagged, the only sign of weakness she had shown since Church's message was played yesterday. The silence stretched out between them as Tucker slowly took two steps back, finally murmuring, "I...I shouldn't be the one to do this." Carolina snorted, snapping, "Why? Because you're in denial yourself?!" Her words made Tucker start, and before he could think of something to say, she stomped toward him, spitting, "Sarge may have refused to order you around because you're not his subordinate, but I will. You need to do this, Tucker, not just for Caboose, but for yourself. The grief is too heavy for you to hold alone." Tucker wanted to tell her off, but his mind went blank. His eyes flickered briefly to Carolina's, and he felt the cold breeze of defeat sigh in his bones. "Okay, fine, I'll do it. But only because you sound hot." Tucker agreed begrudgingly. "Don't make me stab you. Come on, Caboose is this way." Carolina said, leading him toward the remains of the base. The farther Carolina and Tucker walked, the more scattered scrap metal and broken wires they had to step around. As they turned around the corner of a nearly decimated wall, a flurry of crashing metal and breaking glass shattered the unsettling silence. "Tucker did it!" Caboose cried from somewhere behind the small pile of junk, the parts on top collapsing to reveal Caboose's oil covered helmet as he tried to remove a coil of wire from the bottom of the pile. "He's not even here, Caboose. Why don't you just take a break and- " Washington suddenly appeared from the other side of the rubble, cutting himself off when he spotted Tucker and Carolina. He tensed up immediately, whispering coolly, "I told you, Carolina, I got this." "No you don't. Gentleness isn't going to get this through his skull. Let Tucker handle it." Carolina hissed back. Understanding washed over Tucker like a strong ray of light. "Oh, I see. You decided, by yourself, to get the jackass to tell Caboose. Real nice." Tucker complained. "Just get in there." Carolina said, shoving Tucker roughly. Washington looked back from Carolina to Tucker for several seconds, but didn't protest any further. Taking a deep breath, Tucker started walking toward Caboose, but stopped when he saw the weird objects on what was supposed to be a workbench behind him. They all looked somewhat like the alien artifact Caboose had transplanted Church into the first time he was disassembled, (Tucker still had nightmares about his "laser face".) except with wires holding chunks of steel and copper into a vaguely spherical shape. Mounds of white, grainy slime glued the parts together where the wire had snapped, but where did Caboose find glue around here? Unless it was...paper pulp? "Caboose, I swear if you melted down my po-, um, art, collection," Tucker stammered angrily, barely remembering Carolina's presence in time, "for... whatever this is, I..." "Tucker! You're finally here!" Caboose said, instantly dropping the wire and running to Tucker, dragging him over to the workbench before he could finish his complaint. Just when Tucker tried to think of a time Caboose was actually happy to see him, the blue solider cut off his thoughts, asking, "Which one do you like? I want Church to be as happy with his new body as possible, and since Wash refused to let me paint his armour and let Church have it when he comes back, we'll have to use one of these until we can find something better!" "Are you sure these are our only options?" Tucker pondered, reluctant enthusiasm overtaking his tone like a parent praising their child's horrible art project.Tucker swore he could see twigs sticking out from the holes in the sides. Caboose ignored his question, repeating, "So, which one do you think? I like the middle one myself, but I'll let you pick one, too!" "Well, if I had to choose one..." Tucker said, glancing back at Carolina and Washington. Releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding, he added, "Actually, before I decide, you should listen to this." "Listen to what? Oh, is it a song? Is that why Carolina and Wash are here? They must be the back up singers!" Caboose said, clapping his hands excitedly. "Wha-no! It's a message, from Church." Tucker said, silently asking Delta to come out. The green AI appeared, but before he could ask him to play the message, Caboose interrupted, "But I already listened to that! Now, we just have to assemble him again!" Tucker blinked, thinking back to the first message Church had left behind. Caboose must have selective hearing as well as stupidity. "No, this is a different message. It's for you specifically." He turned to Delta, not wanting to give Caboose another chance to cut him off, "Delta, play Caboose's message." "Affirmative." Delta replied, fading out as Church's voice once again amplified through Tucker's helmet. "Caboose, this is important, so I need you to focus, alright? I know you probably didn't get it when I said it the first time, so I am going to repeat it; I am not coming back." That got his attention. Caboose dropped the sphere he was holding as the recorded voice continued, "I know this is going to be hard for you to accept, almost impossible for you to understand, so I just want you to hold these words close to you until the day that they finally make sense." Delta teleported over to Caboose's palm, a loud, irritating buzz replacing Church's voice until Caboose closed his hands around Delta. His voice came back, then quickly faded into nothing as Caboose started nodding slowly. Tucker watched in confusion for a moment, then realization dawned over him; whatever else Church had to say, was for Caboose to hear alone. After what seemed like an eternity, Caboose opened his palms, and Delta reappeared by Tucker's shoulder. Slowly, Caboose turned back to his paper and twig spheres, and picked one up, staring at it intently. Washington approached carefully, but before he could say anything, Caboose muttered, "Needs paint." "I am sorry, what?" Tucker said, dismay itching through his skin as Caboose rapidly began searching through the piles of junk again. "Church just doesn't know he wants to come back, that's all! We'll paint up this sphere to his old colour, resurrect him, and it will be like he never left!" Caboose said, desperation mounting in his voice as he yanked out a large piece of metal, rubbing off the rust to look at the colour underneath. A cold tide of nameless emotion flowed through Tucker's mind. This wasn't stupidity, this was full blown denial. "Calm down, Caboose, just stop and listen to me. There's nothing left of Church to rebuild." Washington urged. "That's what you said about Freckles! But look, now he's a gun!" Caboose argued, holding up his rifle in the air, confetti bursting from the barrel as if to prove his point. "No, that isn't what I said. The only thing left of him was the chip. Church was different, there was no physical form of him at all." Washington reasoned. "I am not listening to you. Blah, blah, blah..." Caboose began to blather as Washington stood over him, who only bothered to try and get in a word when Caboose paused to take a breath. Watching this, something inside Tucker snapped, the weight of all that was said to him yesterday and today crushing him. "Snap out of it, Caboose!" Tucker shouted, "He's gone! He abandoned you, he abandoned me, he abandoned all of us! Again! Why won't you just accept that?" Caboose cowered under him as he stammered, "B...but, last ti-time, we fixed him, like a, a- " "You can’t fix him now! He chose to die! He knew he couldn't be brought back again, and he did it anyway, so get it through your dumb skull. He's not coming back, and he's never coming back!" His words echoed into the distance, slowly fading away as their meaning finally sank in, as if he was hearing them for the first time. "Fake" people didn't make decisions like this. "He's gone, he's...gone." Tucker repeated, trying to choke back the growing lump in his throat. Instantly, the panicked energy Caboose had seemed to dissolve. He gradually stood up, walking past Washington and stepping on the sphere he had dropped, the metal crunching under his boot. Washington swiveled his head toward Carolina, sneering, "Oh yeah, that turned out great." "It was the only way." Carolina insisted, although she sounded uncertain. She directed her attention to Tucker. "Now it's your turn." "Um, for what?" Tucker wondered, more interested in where Caboose had wandered off as Washington began to follow him. "Your message, dumb ass." Carolina said. Tucker froze, looking at Delta through his peripheral vision. "I said Church left a message for all of us, remember? Did you think that excluded you?" Carolina reminded him. "No, it just occurred to me, that you somehow knew that Church left individual words for everyone. Last time I checked, Delta didn't have a labelling system." Tucker suggested. "You seriously think I would eavesdrop on that sort of thing?! All of the files are encrypted, like Caboose's. I could only play a certain portion before it would stop." Carolina explained. That was one less worry on Tucker's mind. He was pretty sure whatever Church had left for him was very incriminating. But still, he hesitated. Curiosity was making his brain toss and turn, but the command wouldn't form on his tongue. "Well, what are you waiting for?" Carolina asked. "I...once I listen to it..." Tucker whispered, unable to say anymore as he tore his eyes away from Delta's shimmering aura. "Oh." The sound was barely a sigh as it left Carolina's chest, and she scanned the horizon as the awkward lull pressed down on them. Abruptly, she spoke again, "I know how that feels. Take your time." She ambled away, barely glimpsing back as she left Tucker alone with his thoughts. Time crawled by like it was shot in both of it's ankles, the thin, ribbon like clouds appearing to point at the sun as it inched across the sky. With each gentle wisp of wind, he heard the words resonate in his head. I just want you to hold these words close to you until the day that they finally make sense... The grief is too heavy for you to hold alone... You haven't lost everything, so don't act like you have... He's gone...he's gone. Every passing hour they seemed to ring louder and louder, an almost constant background noise to his memories as he was helplessly dragged through the past. Gasping for breath, he tried to fish his mind out of the flood as he remembered arguments, the bad and the weird times, a few rare instances when they kicked ass, but it always slipped out of his grasp and floated away deeper into his conscious. At last, when twilight began to settle over the horizon, exhaustion dulled his frayed nerves, and his thoughts came to a stand still. He closed his eyes against the strong orange light, and breathed, "Delta, play the message." "Playing," Delta replied, the familiar static making him flinch before the voice kicked in, "Hi, buddy, you just have to love the irony, here, right? Just after you finally stop whining about me leaving you guys in a canyon, I make you listen to my ramblings like a dead guy that had a tape recorder. In any case, I hope you haven't been harassing the others about what an asshole I am. And if you have been, then, what the fuck dude? I am dead, have some respect. Don't get me wrong, I get it. Grief does some fucked up shit to you. But one way or another, you have to find a way to live with this man, in a way that won't make you self destruct. I am not going to lie, it might take awhile to find it, but don't expect the scars to heal completely, because they won't. The sting may lessen over time, but you'll always carry it, and that's just the price of life. For every breath we take, every joy we get to experience, life will cut more and more losses into our skin that we have to carry. But those memories, and the friends that you still have by you, make it all worth it. You would never have anything good to remember on a lonely night if you played it safe and never reached out. Yeah, you would never get hurt, but you would also never truly live. The sound of Church's laughter briefly filled Tucker's ears before he continued, "Stop me if you heard that one already. But cliché’s are cliché’s for a reason, buddy. Just, whenever you feel like the agony might be unbearable, just remember this; those memories are painful because they are worth remembering. Whenever you are going through a loss, just try to be grateful that they made their absence so hard to accept." There was a long pause, and Tucker thought that the message ended, but then he heard the last words he'd ever hear of Church, "I... I am glad that you were my friend, even if we were assholes to eachother. See you on the other side, Tucker." Tucker stared off into space, hoping against hope that there was more, but only silence greeted him. He murmured, "Play it one more time, Delta." Tucker listened as the night overtook the day, the first star searing a place for itself in the same spot where the last of the light disappeared. He sat there for a few hours, holding back the tears that stung his eyes. When the moon was at it's peak in the sky, Tucker approached the base, surprised to hear his friends talking outside. He turned the corner and saw them standing in a circle, overhearing Sarge saying, "And remember that time we had to negotiate surrender after someone forgot to bring the bullets? Do you still like to kiss all the boys, Grif?" Grif's only response was an audible sigh. "What about that time you idiots were blasted through time by Church's own abdomen bomb? Now that was a spectacle!" O'Malley cried. "Yeah, but an awfully violent one!" Doc protested. So this is how they're dealing with it, Tucker thought, I guess they didn't need Church's "sage" advice. When Grif started talking, Tucker remembered, or, just different advice from mine. Caboose stood just outside the circle, staring at his own feet. Tucker inched closer, barely able to hear him sniffling. I guess Carolina didn't have the right idea after all. Damn it, I am going to hate myself for this. Despite his instincts screaming at him not to, Tucker stepped beside Caboose, whispering, "Hey." "You're not going to have another yelling episode, are you? I don't want mean people yelling at me anymore." Caboose whined. "No, I am not. And I am sorry for that. Why don't we go talk to the others?" Tucker said. "I think I just want to be alone." Caboose moaned. "But you're not. Come on, at least talk to them for a little while. It will make you feel a bit better, I promise. If you need to, you can have some alone time later." Tucker assured him, patiently waiting until Caboose followed him into the circle. Washington turned as they came near, and stood aside to make room. Everyone turned for a split second as Caboose stopped beside Washington, then continued talking, relief spelled across their relaxed shoulders. Despite himself, Tucker smiled, a tiny shard of hope igniting within as Caboose recalled the time Church and Tex hunted down O'Malley in his mind. Church's funeral was prepared and ready after three more depressing days. Donut had woken them up half an hour before dawn, much to everyone's annoyance, to lead them to the spot he and Doc had chose. As Tucker blinked the sleep out of his eyes, he noticed Sarge and Simmons were already gone. "Hey, did anyone see where Sarge or Simmons went?" He asked. "No, and I don't care, as long as he's out of lecturing range." Grif said between yawns. Donut replied, "Don't worry about it, they're making... arrangements. Now come on, before..." "Noo!" A piercing scream split through the air, and Tucker spun to see Grey storming toward Donut. "Oh, God, she's here! Protect me!" Donut yelped, hiding behind Washington. "You can't hide when she's already seen you, Donut." Washington sighed, shaking him off as Grey stepped toward him. "You're supposed to be resting! You can't put any unnecessary strain on that arm! You already pushed your luck running off the other day without even asking me for clearance!" She fumed, seeming to push Donut toward the barracks by mental thought alone. "Grey, please." Carolina said, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. Everyone seemed to back up at once, the collective thought across the clearing being that Carolina was about to get sliced open. "Planning this was Donut's way of coping. Please don't make him stay here." Carolina reasoned. Grey hesitated, so she added, "I'll make sure he doesn't push himself, and that he rests when this is done. Right?" Her voice grew ominously low as she turned her gaze on Donut. "Um, right?" Donut squeaked, shrinking under both of the ladies glares. Grey still paused, then huffed, "Fine. I have other patients that won't waste my time by running around. At least take this with you," She handed Carolina a large wad of gauze before adding, "And bring him back here right away if it re opens." With that, she trotted back to the sick bay, leaving the red's and blue's to their funeral. It seemed like hours had gone by when the terrain under Tucker's feet flattened, and Donut called for them to stop. "Seriously, why did you have to pick the steepest hill around here?! Do you know how hard it was to haul this piece of junk up here?!" A shrill voice complained as Tucker bent down to catch his breath. It took him a few moments to register what had been said. "Hey, that's my complaint-" Tucker stopped when he saw the broken down warthog filled with bright yellow weeds, Sarge and Simmons standing beside it. "Why are you complaining? All you had to do was drive a vehicle up here, I had to follow these two idiots around to pick enough flowers to stuff into it!" Grif puffed. "Um, did you think Kimball just let us take a perfectly good warthog for this? I had to push it all the way up here!" Simmons retorted. Sarge chuckled, commenting, "Wasn't that much work for me. Now will you two stop belly aching, we have a dead solider to honour!" "Okay, fill me in. How exactly does a leaking warthog and a bunch of dandelions honour Church?" Washington inquired. "I remember caring for a plant when I was little, her name was Sally. One day, dandelions grew by and choked her up. She was my only friend!" Caboose sobbed. Tucker knitted his eyebrows in worry, at the same time surprised he felt an emotion other than disgust towards him. Caboose seemed to start crying at everything nowadays. "Isn't it obvious? We take a machine that's served long past it's days, and blow it up, from where everyone can see it for miles! A beautiful explosion to celebrate an exciting life!" Sarge explained. "I... guess that's kind of fitting." Carolina said, her tone conveying her reluctance to be directly associated with the idea. "So basically, almost everyone helped put this funeral together. I wish someone had told me about that sooner! Now I feel like a dick for not doing anything." Tucker fussed. "You can," Donut objected, dropping a grenade into his hand, "When I give the word, throw it at the warthog." He paced around the circle, giving everybody one grenade, When Caboose reached out for his, Tucker objected, "Whoa, I don't think you should get one, considering your.. track record." Donut nodded in agreement. "Oh, but, everyone else will get to part of the metaphor, and I won't. Is it because I wasn't important enough to Church?" Caboose lamented. Tucker exhaled, sneering, "Fine, but you'll get it when it's time." Donut stepped back into his place, and asked, "Okay, so.. who wants to say the first words?" After a brief moment, Sarge spoke up, "Throughout my military career, I've known a lot of soldiers who laid down their lives for a war that wasn't even real. I am happy one of our own chose to die for a good cause." More uncomfortable silence. Carolina sighed in exasperation before saying, "I never thought I'd find anyone who could help me leave the past behind. Thank you, Church." "I wish I had the chance to know him a bit longer. I guess, relatively, he didn't live that long, but," Washington scanned the faces around him meaningfully, "He's made such an impact." "Church was a bitch sometimes, but he was our bitch." Donut sniffed, his voice on the verge of sobs. "Who would have thought I'd ever be mourning for a blue? I am going to miss you, pal." Simmons added. "He was an admirable adversary and ally! That can't be said for others very often!" O'Malley laughed. "And he was so soft on the inside, despite his tough shell, just like a cookie!" Doc butted in. Grif moaned, "We're really doing this? Genuine compliments aren't my thing." He stood in contemplation for a second, then said, "I thought he was a douche, but after being locked up with him in a jail for eight hours, I realized... he wasn't a complete douche. Goodbye, Church." Panic stiffened his insides like starched laundry when Tucker realized he and Caboose were the only ones left. Quickly, he elbowed Caboose in the back while his mind raced through words. Caboose raised his shoulders to his head like he was trying to withdraw into a shell as everyone looked at him. Finally, he stammered, "Ch...Church was m…my friend. My best friend. And now he's gone forever, and it makes me sad! Why won't he come back?! I don't want to be sad all the time!" Caboose turned his back to them, barrelling into Tucker for a hug as he tried to hide his face under his armpit like a cat. Tucker tolerated it for an unbearable ten seconds, until Caboose seemed to realize what he was doing and let go, making a grossed out tch noise. After the shock of Caboose touching him wore off, Tucker realized all eyes were on him. Unable to take the pressure of everyone's attention, he looked down, and said, "What is there to say? He was my friend...and, and for the longest time, I didn't even know. How could you call someone you fought with most of the time your friend? Yet, when push comes to shove, there was never any doubt we'd be there for eachother. And then it hit me. There's a word for a best friend you argued with all the time. Church, was like, my... my brother, and you can never replace a brother like him." He cringed, pausing to keep his voice steady. He released a deep breath, and whispered loudly, "Stop me if you heard that one already." He lifted his head when a faint glow hurt his eye, and immediately understood why Donut chose this spot. The sun was a giant in the sky, leaning over them as if it was curious about what was going on. It's angle formed a golden silhouette over the warthog, it's edges white beams of light on the grass underfoot, making the whole plain seem serene and heavenly. The clouds that rolled like gentle hills in the low horizon were stained a vivid orange as they rose and fell through the empty air, like fluffy whales. "See? Now that's a backdrop you send off you're best friend to! Okay, everyone step back, it's time." Donut said. He took out his grenade, handing one to Caboose before they took their place just under the crest of the hill. In one swift motion, they all threw their grenades, the only ones landing in the warthog being the ones thrown by Donut, Washington and Carolina. The rest landed relatively nearby, and then, they exploded one after another, pieces of glass and metal turned into a tide of sun catchers against the light.The left tire burst into chunks, the disproportioned weight causing the warthog to tip to one side. Ever so slowly, it capsized, the half incinerated petals blown into the wind as it rolled down the hill with a symphony of crunches and squeals. When the noise finally stopped, traces of smoke beginning to rise, a defective grenade finally exploded, sending up a spray of earth on the opposite bank, as if for good measure. The petals drifted down the wind currents over the reds and blues, encouraging Caboose to shout, "Yeah! This is for Sally, dandelions!" Holding up his grenade, he wound up for a throw. "Caboose, what are you doing?! You were supposed to throw it before the warthog blew up!" Donut cried as Caboose tossed it into the ground directly in front of his feet. "Goddamn it, Caboose! Take cover!" Tucker shouted unnecessarily as every one dived backward before the explosion let loose a flood of dirt and grass on top of them. Shaking off the soil that covered his legs, he heard Washington say, "That was the third worst throw, ever. Of all time." "Not my fault. Tucker did it." Caboose replied, only his head visible above the grass clippings. "See, I told you that was a bad idea, Sarge! Now the funeral's ruined." Donut whined. "Nonsense! Screwing up an idea that was already dumb and nearly getting ourselves killed in the process? Church wouldn't have had it any other way." Sarge said. "No, he wouldn't have." Simmons agreed, his voice choked up. Tucker knelt in the grass, shaking the dirt of his arms as he stood. Looking around, he saw eyes go back and forth meeting one another, until a silent agreement seemed to be reached. Climbing back to the top of the hill, they watched the smoke curdle up into the atmosphere, painted into gold from the early morning flare. Washington stopped beside Tucker, craning his neck up toward the spot where the sky swallowed up any sign of smog. A loud sniff from Donut made Tucker look to his left, and he just barely caught the glint of welling tears under Washington's visor before he looked away. You haven't lost everything. Probably for the fifth time this week, his words repeated themselves in Tucker's head. Surveying the people around him, he thought, And it only took several scolding’s, one emotional breakdown, a message from beyond the grave and a chaotic funeral for me to finally figure out what that meant. A strange feeling of hope bloomed in his gut, even as the memories assaulted his conscience, and his eyes stung. But, damn it, it still hurts. Finally, he let the tears wash down, his sorrow held back too long to be denied any longer. He tried to breath without sniveling as his throat closed up, and failed. Washington glanced at him as Tucker bowed his head, embarrassed. Washington reached over his shoulders with his arm, purposefully looking away as Tucker sobbed quietly. When I first came back as Epsilon, I had a lot of data, memories, of the freelancers, how so many of them died unburied and unmourned. I don't exactly have anything to bury, but don't forget the whole mourning part, all right? I know you guys are going to throw some ridiculous funeral, so, Donut, make it classy for me. Well, as classy as you can with these guys around to attend it. And after it's over, try to remember that, moving on and forgetting are not the same thing. Having the courage to carry those memories with you rather than trying to sever it from yourself is one of the greatest feats of strength you can ever achieve. Believe me, I know. You, you all made my life it's own, and, now, I, guess were even. Thank you.