Title: Memories
Fandom: Red vs Blue
Character: Dexter Grif
Prompt: #070 - Storm
Word Count: 1884
Rating: G
Summary: A strange storm passes through Blood Gulch, driving both teams to shelter and stirring up old memories.
Author's Notes: Entry for the Fanfic100 Community. Sister has been named Aimee in our universe. For more information, read "Blue Eyes", which can be found via our author profile.

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Grif grunted softly, a strange feeling of wrongness jolting him awake. He lay still on his small, hard bunk, listening intently. The base was utterly still. No overly cheerful pop music blaring out of Donut's bunk, no clangs or crashes that always heralded Sarge's presence in the kitchen (something that occurred very rarely and only when Simmons was otherwise occupied). No, there was no sound echoing through the base.

A quick grope at the floor located the Spartan's watch. The faintly glowing hands informed him that it was scarcely past 5 in the morning. The earliest anyone would be up was 5:30 – and even then, Sarge wouldn't emerge from his bunk until 6. Too busy doing push-ups or praying to the emblem of the Red Army or whatever it was their co did in his private time.

With a soft grumble, the orange Spartan sluggishly rolled out of bed. He knew that the faint pressure on his bladder would make it impossible to simply go back to sleep. If he was careful, he could make it to the bathroom and be back in bed without waking Sarge. Grif was quick to pull a pair of sweats on over his boxers and grab a worn t-shirt. Taking a deep breath, he prepared to step into the hallway and into the painfully bright light that shone unceasingly over the canyon.

"What the…" he stuttered, surprise running through him as he opened the door. Instead of being instantly blinded by the sunlight, the only illumination in the long hallway were a few straining sunbeams. Deciding to forget the bathroom for the moment, he hurried to the top of the base to have a look around.

Grif stared. "Holy crap," he whispered. For the first time in the three years he'd been stationed at Blood Gulch Outpost no. 1 the sky looked…overcast.

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Donut frowned up at the ceiling as the sky rumbled above them. "I thought the weather never changed here?" he asked in a puzzled voice.

"Well, we were blasted 800 years into the future," Simmons replied from the beaten up looking chair he'd primly perched himself on in the rec room. "Something could have changed about the weather patterns here."

"The more likely answer is that the Blues have developed a weather control machine and used it on this planet to hinder our victory," Sarge corrected as he walked into the room. "Just finished making the final rounds," he announced, taking a look around. "We are now secure against the elements."

"What about the ramp?" Donut asked. "Won't the water run down it and into the base?"

Simmons shook his head. "This is a standard Red Army base," he explained, "and that means that it can be locked down and made airtight against possible chemical attacks. And thusly, flooding. We've just never had to use it before."

"That's because the Blues here suck as much as we do," Grif muttered. The orange soldier was sprawled sideways in a rickety looking chair in the corner, never looking up from the notepad he was drawing in.

Sarge glared. "This base will be the backbone for the Red Army's ultimate victory over the Blues!"

Donut leaded forward, "Uh, Sarge? What about the leak in the kitchen?" he asked, desperately hoping to forestall further arguments.

"There's a pot under it," their co replied. "We'll just have to make sure that we go dump the water into the sink before it starts to overflow."

"What about the one in the showers?"

"Do you really think that one matters?" Simmons demanded.

Before Donut could answer, a roll of thunder suddenly ripped through the air, causing the base to shake as it moved. Deep as they were in the base, they could also now hear rain beginning to fall, beating out a strong staccato as it hit the roof.

"That was…really loud," Donut stuttered, eyes wide. "I haven't heard thunder like that since that one storm that hit the farm a couple summers ago! Man, that storm dumped so much water on us that the first floor of the house flooded!"

Another clap of thunder ripped through the air, followed by another, and another. The sound of the rain got louder and louder, until it was a load roar interrupted only by the rumbling thunder that sounded every few minutes.

Grif suddenly jerked to his feet, dropping the notepad and pencil onto the chair. Without saying a word, he strode out of the small, battered rec room and disappeared.

Simmons frowned. "What's his problem?"

"Maybe he doesn't like thunderstorms," Donut suggested with a shrug. "Or maybe he has to go to the bathroom."

"Doesn't matter," Sarge said. Turning away from the shelves up against a wall, he held up a dusty cardboard box and grinned. "Who wants to play Life?"

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Grif shuddered as another thunderclap ripped through the air. He hated thunderstorms. He hated them more than anything else. He hated what they made him feel, what they made him remember. "I am so fucking pathetic," he muttered aloud, feeling utterly miserable. "Sitting in the corner of my room trying not to cry, just like a little baby," he continued in a whisper. He hit his head against the wall with a loud thud.

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Over at Blue Base, Tex was gloating over her sweep of properties on the Monopoly board. Caboose clutched at the handful of property card he and Aimee had managed to collect (Church had declared that they would play as a team for the duration of the storm) and gave Tex a sheepish look when their piece, the iron, landed on one of the mercenary's properties.

"Go fish?" he asked tentatively.

Aimee giggled softly as she counted out the rent they owed, a giggle that turned into a sharp squeak when a loud crack of thunder suddenly rent the air.

Tucker leaned over, hoping to earn points by comforting their newest team-member, but was interrupted by Tex loudly clearing her throat.

"Tell you what," she began, "if you two sell me your properties, I'll give you some of my orange juice."

Caboose's eyes went wide and he quickly turned to Aimee. "That's a good deal, we should take it," he whispered in a loud voice.

Aimee grinned and nodded. "Sounds good to me." Caboose was quick to hand their cards to Tex. "Let's go get some orange juice," she exclaimed and clambered to her feet. As the two junior members of the left the common area, Church and Tucker could be heard groaning.

As they neared the kitchen, the rain could be heard more clearly. Caboose winced at the lightning that flashed outside the window. "We don't have storms like this back home," he confessed.

"Where's home?" the younger Grif asked curiously.

"The moon."

"Oh." Aimee looked outside the small window over the sink while Caboose busied himself with pulling the carton of orange juice out of the fridge. The rain was lessening slightly, enough to see to the middle of the canyon. Thunder rumbled again, softer than it had been for the past hour or so. 'Dexter's probably gone out of his mind by now,' she thought.

"Hey, Caboose?" she began. "Could you help me with something?"

"Sure." The large soldier frowned. "Uh, with what?"

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Sarge leapt to his feet as the entrance to the base slammed open. With Donut and Simmons at his heels, he ran from the rec room to the open door. Water was blowing in, further soaking the large figure struggling to push the door shut. Another figure, smaller but no less wet, slipped by them and disappeared around the corner.

"Get that door shut!" Sarge shouted over the sound of rain and wind as he hurried to help seal the base once more. Simmons was close behind and the three men were soon able to seal the entrance.

"Donut," gasped Sarge as he leaned against the door. "Go after the other Blue that snuck in here. Simmons and I will deal with this one."

"Uh, sure thing, Sarge," Donut replied, eyes wide. Turning, he began to follow the trail of water puddles deeper into the base.

"Hi, uh, Sergeant person? Is that you?" Caboose stared up at Sarge. He had slipped in a large water puddle while pushing the door shut and was now levering himself upright.

Sarge stared down at the large Blue that had invaded his base "Caboose?" he finally managed to ask. Caboose blushed and waved shyly.

"What are you doing here? And who was that other person?" Simmons demanded.

"Oh, that was Aimee, the yellow person? She said she wanted to visit her brother."

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Aimee continued to towel dry her hair, watching her brother with anxious eyes. "Are you sure you're doing ok?" she asked in a plaintive voice.

"I'm fine. You're the one that needs your head examined." Dexter scowled at her. "Going out in weather like this. It's insane!"

"That's why I got Caboose to help me," she argued.

"Yeah, because Caboose is such a pillar of wisdom," he muttered.

"Oh, shut it," she snapped back. "I know how you get with these kinds of storms. And with how few we get of these back home in Hawaii, I knew that you'd be freaking out over here. And that's why I came over."

"I'm not 'freaking out'," Dexter insisted. The mulish look on his face diminished slightly. "It's just…" he gave her a pained look. "This is why Mom and Dad died. It was a storm like this. I remember it, all of it. I can't…stop remembering."

"I know," Aimee whispered. She dropped the towel on the floor and crawled onto the bed to wrap her arms around her big brother. "I was too little to remember it myself, but I know what happened."

Dexter's eyes drifted shut as he clutched at her arm, trying to block out memories of loud thunder, squealing tires, crunching metal, screams, bloodbatspainwalking, walking, walking for ever and ever to get help…

"Shh," Aimee murmured, her voice soft and soothing. "We're ok. Everything's ok." She whispered reassuring words, rubbing his back and giving him the comfort he had needed so long ago and hadn't gotten, comfort that would have eased a small five year-old's terror at having his parents ripped away from him.

From deep in the base, the chatter of the Reds and one Blue rose, a warm, inviting sound that cut through the foul noise from outside.

"Scrabble! Scrabble!" Donut could be heard shouting.

"Come on," Aimee said, rising to her feet as she tugged her brother's arm. "Let's go play! I want see the look on their faces when we start putting down words like sesquioxide and oxyphenbutazone!"

The elder Grif hesitated. Finally, he sighed and stood up. "Alright," he said reluctantly before grinning. "But you have to get the dictionary so we can prove our words exist!"

Aimee let out a squeal of outrage as he abruptly bolted from the room.

"Caboose! The pieces are not building block! Put them back in the bag!" Sarge shouted from the rec room.

"Oh! I thought that was part of the game. Sorry!" Caboose replied.

A slight smile crossed Aimee Grif's face when Dexter's voice joined the mix, launching insults and putdowns in every direction. Maybe everything would work out after all.

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sesquioxide - An oxide containing three atoms of oxygen with two atoms (or radicals) of some other substance; thus, alumina, Al2O3 is asesquioxide

oxyphenbutazone - an anti-inflammatory drug (trade name Tandearil) used to treat arthritis and bursitis