Grif's hand drifted towards the cupholder of his car, automatically seeking the coffee he'd poured for himself barely an hour earlier. His hand closed on empty air.
"Shit," he mumbled. With a soft groan, he gripped the steering while and rested his head on his knuckles. He'd left the travel mug at Khloe's. And he really didn't feel like going back for it. Raising his head slightly, he let it fall again. Then again.
Aurelia. What the fuck was the UNSC going back there? Why couldn't they just leave that world in peace? And why did he have to hear about it from a goddamned reporter? Even if it was one of the few he'd come to kind of like?
Goodnight's words flashed through his mind, "They're going to come talk to you demanding answers unless you put that information out there before then. And the longer you wait, the worse it's going to look."
Would they really, though? The UNSC were dicks, that was for sure. He'd spent plenty of nights letting Kimball rant at him about them over the past few years as she fought tooth and nail to secure Chorus's independence.
But they were independent now. They couldn't just stroll in and make him talk about it. Right?
Fuck. This was a nightmare.
Uncurling, Grif reluctantly turned the car on and started to back out of his parking spot. He needed to talk to Kai.
The drive home was relatively quick. Even with all the cons and events they put on, Port Mont remained a tourist town and it was currently the off season. The public school system was in session and the weather hotter than the tourists usually liked. So the shops and hotels were relatively quiet and he wasn't reduced to yelling at the other drivers nearly as much.
Sliding neatly into his parking spot outside the Griffen Events warehouses, he absentmindedly counted the other cars present; with so many weekend events, they offered flexible work hours and a lot of employees took them up on it. Right now, it looked like the lot was about a quarter full.
The energy filling the main office was lower key than on weekdays. As he climbed the winding staircase leading up the the second floor where his sister's office could be found, a familiar voice floated towards him.
"... and Sarge kept saying Grab that bull by the horns! So I did but it didn't like that and it threw me up into the air. I hit the ground kind of hard but it didn't hurt all that much. Then it charged at me but Washington grabbed my arm and dragged me under the fence so it didn't hit me."
Shaking his head a momentarily putting aside his worries, Grif paused to lean against the wall near Smith's desk. "Been a month already, Caboose?" he asked in a teasing voice.
Their most regular visitor turned in his chair and waved happily. He was sitting noticeably straighter than usual and had a line of bruises running up the side of his face and down one arm.
"Hello, Grif! Yes, it has been exactly one month!"
"You got hit by a bull? Sarge has a bull now?" Grif asked with a fair amount of incredulity.
"Sarge wanted the cows to have babies. So he got a bull," Caboose explained. "It has very big horns." He paused, thinking through his words. "I was helping him and Washington feed the cows. Washington and Sarge were talking and that's when Sarge started saying the thing. The bull was all alone in its pasture so I thought it might like a hug and since Sarge kept saying to grab its horns I thought that must be how bulls hug." Another pause. "I do not think that bull ever learned how to hug."
"So that's chickens, two donkeys, three goats, a crap-ton of cows, and now a bull, am I right?" Grif asked, ticking off the different kinds of animals on his fingers.
"We have lots of animals! You forgot Suzie. And the cats."
"Suzie?"
"Our new dog!" Caboose exclaimed. He clapped his hands together in excitement, wincing slightly as he flexed his bruised arm. "She is a puppy and she is already best friends with Freckles. She is learning to help us with the cows."
"And how is Wash's cat hoarding problem?" Bantering with Caboose about the farm was familiar and easy.
"Doc finished his animal doctoring lessons and can now fix the cats. So we have fewer cats than before." Caboose's expression changed to one of puzzlement. "Why is making sure the cats don't make babies called fixing them? It sounds more like breaking them."
"I have no fucking clue, dude." Grif shook his head in amusement. "But it's important to fix the cats; otherwise they keep having babies, remember? Until there are too many to take care of. Wash said that happened on another farm near you guys, right?"
"There were lots and lots of cats," Caboose agreed. Then he snapped his fingers (or rather, tried to). "Washington told me to ask you if Annette wants a cat. Or if Palomo and Jensen want a cat for the twins. New baby cats appeared on the farm. Washington says someone must have left them. They will be old enough to go to new homes soon and we need to find homes for them because Tucker says we still have too many."
"I'll check with Bitters and Matthews and Katie. If you have pictures of the cats, we can also post them around the office, see if anyone else wants one." Grif glanced at Smith, who nodded enthusiastically.
"I would be more than happy to write and print some flyers," Smith agreed brightly.
"I will call Washington and ask him to send pictures right away!"
"Awesome, I'll leave you to that." Then, to Smith he asked, "Is Kai in?"
"Yes, sir, she's going over the latest update to the guest list for the film festival," Smith confirmed.
"Great. I'll leave you two alone, then." Pushing away from the wall, Grif gave them a small nod as he moved towards Kai's office. Just as he was passing the two men, however, Caboose sprang to his feet. Beaming, he wrapped Grif up in a hug.
"You need to come to the farm and meet all the animals," Caboose told him, as he always did during his monthly visits.
Like always, Grif replied, "Maybe next time."
He and the others were back on friendly terms, had been for a few years, but… he just hadn't been able to bring himself to visit. Something about returning to their space, to this more pastoral version of Blood Gulch, just didn't sit right. His therapist had been encouraging him for almost a year now to consider visiting, even if just for a few hours. But-
Simmons was there.
He didn't visit Port Mont as much as the others. Each time he was in town, though, Grif felt that long-familiar pounding in his chest, a twisting in his stomach. He had to force himself not to linger too close, not to reach out and touch him- do anything that might give away the fact that even all these years and his own words to Simmons long ago, he'd never gotten over him.
At this point, Grif had concluded he probably never would. He was stuck on Simmons and would be for the rest of his life, no matter what. It had been a bittersweet realization but also freeing in other ways. When Bitters and Matthews had gotten married two years earlier, there'd been no worrying or stressing about his own romantic future as he sat through the ceremony and the reception afterwards. He was set to Permanent Pining.
Giving Caboose a friendly pat on the back, Grif untangled himself from the taller man's clinging arms and pushed him back into his chair. "Are you staying with Smith or a hotel?" he asked.
"I am staying with Smith. Abuelita says I don't get enough to eat at the hotels," Caboose promptly replied. "I'll be here for a full week! Tucker and Wash said they would come get me next weekend when they come for the movie thing."
"Alright, you'll have to tell me about all that later." With one final pat to his shoulder, Grif left Caboose to resume his chat with Smith and continued on to his sister's office.
The head of Griffin Events and master media mogul had her feet propped up on her desk as she examined her datapad, stylus twirling in her other hand. "S'up, bro-bro," she greeted him as he entered.
"Hey, you, uh, you got a few minutes?" he asked hesitantly, lingering just inside the room.
Something in his tone must have been off; Kaikaina's genial expression melted away, transforming to one of concern. Pulling her legs off her desk, she dropped the datapad and stylus and pointed at the small couch tucked against the wall. She joined him a few moments later after making sure the door was shut behind him.
"What's up?" she asked in a soft voice as she drew her legs up onto the couch.
"Uh, so I went to go chat with Goodnight this morning," Grif began.
"That reporter lady?"
"Yeah, her. Um-" He paused, trying to pin down a specific train of thought. "I know she's still working on that book and, well, I wanted to know what she was planning to write about, well, you. Bitters and Matthews. Annette."
"What did she say?" Kaikaina asked.
Grif shrugged. "That she was still pretty deep in the research process." A small, hesitant grin crossed his face. "Apparently, she's having more trouble than usual."
Kai snorted. That was understating things.
He took a deep breath. This was the difficult part. "She also said that- that the UNSC has gone back to Aurelia. That they've started cleaning up after the attack and occupation. And that- well, that she thinks they're going to want to talk to me about it," he finished in a miserable voice.
"Oh." Kai blinked for a moment. Aurelia. She knew Dexter had been stationed there for his first military posting. He'd sent her a few letters after arriving, describing the city and the people, the other soldiers in his unit, and just the weird experience of being on a different planet. They'd written back and forth as much as possible, him between grueling guard duty shifts, her between classes and in the evenings while working on homework.
And then, the letters stopped.
The enemy had attacked.
She'd spent months terrified for him, desperate to believe he was still alive but also well aware that no planet had ever escaped the aliens' wrath. As time pressed on and rumors started to spread about what was happening there - she'd ended up torn. She desperately wanted him to be alive but if the rumors were true… it might be better for him if he was dead.
Instead of simply glassing the planet, the aliens invaded. A few transmissions leaked out early into the occupation, telling everyone about the horror of mass executions, entire cities set afire, people being rounded up and carted away, their fate unknown to this day. The last message to escape was an interference-laced wreck, voice dipping in and out as the video intermittently blurred and turned to snow. What could be made out painted a nightmarish picture: chemical weapons deployed in the atmosphere, human colonists being hunted for sport, and beleaguered bands of survivors cowering in fear of discovery while slowly starving to death.
After that final transmission, Kai told herself Dexter was dead. Because if he was alive, he was hurting, suffering, starving. The media speculated on just how the bands of survivors were making do. They talked about cannibalism, tribalism, and all sorts of horrifying -isms. She hated hearing them talk; each word made her think of her brother and she couldn't stop worrying that he was having to give up everything that made him human in order to survive.
Over half a year later, one human ship made a daring rescue attempt and managed to snatch several dozen survivors off the planet's surface. All of human space held its breath when word got out, waiting for names of the survivors, praying they'd finally learn just what had happened on Aurelia.
The UNSC refused to release much in the way of details. But they did share the bittersweet story of how the rescue had been managed. A single surviving unit of soldiers launched daring raid on an enemy comm tower and managed to establish contact with the lone human ship in range. One week later, the ship sliced through the alien planetary defenses and launched a pair of transport ships. On the ground, the soldiers secured a landing zone and held off wave after wave of attackers while civilians raced to board the transports.
All told, forty-three people were rescued from the ruined surface of Aurelia, soldiers and civilians alike.
Dexter's name had been amongst the list of survivors. Then the list of the dead. After the UNSC officer tasked with bringing her, Dex's only listed next of kin, a folded flag and all the medals he'd been posthumously awarded left, she'd been a wreck for days, drifting listlessly from class to class. By the end of the week, with the UNSC refusing to release any further information about Aurelia, she'd marched into an army recruiting office and signed up. Perhaps as a soldier, she could find out the truth.
She'd managed to hide her colorblindness all the way through her initial health screenings and Basic training through subterfuge and a few strategic sexual favors. As she finished training, a strange, soft-spoken man approached her late one day on base and informed her that Dexter was alive, that there'd been a paperwork mix-up when he'd been released from the hospital. And he could reunite them if she agreed to join the same military research project. And with the war with the aliens over and done with, she didn't hesitate to say yes.
When she'd finally reached her brother, he was… different. More withdrawn and defensive. He'd been infuriated to see her in armor and overjoyed to be reunited. But he wouldn't talk about Aurelia. Not with her, not with anyone. He only acknowledged it once and that was to order her not to mention it to anyone.
The lost colony was a sore spot for him. It featured heavily in his nightmares and he'd admitted once, late one night, that the war on Chorus had reminded him a lot of that world.
Reaching out, Kai took hold of one of Dexter's big hands, threading their fingers together. "I'm not trying to tell you what you should or shouldn't do," she said in a soft voice, "but as someone who was on the outside when everything happened there? It would help to understand what exactly went down during the invasion and occupation."
"I know. It's just…" He looked away, eyes drifting over the framed news clippings on the wall and family pictures cluttering her desk. "I don't feel like I have the right to talk about what happened there. It- it makes me feel like I'm putting down everyone who died there. That I'd be bragging about living when most everyone else died."
"You're not, you-" Kai paused suddenly, blinking rapidly. "Wait, most everyone? The UNSC said there were no survivors. Besides you."
Grif winced slightly when he realized his verbal stumble. "Yeah, well, we both know the UNSC is a bag of dicks. Um-" Lips twisting, his mind flickered back to the weeks he'd spent in the hospital after the evacuation. "The civilians we got off… some of them were kids. Little kids," he slowly explained. "Last I heard, they were okay. Well, as okay as they could be under the circumstances. But- It'd be hard for them to recover with the media hounding them, especially since only a few of them would have been old enough to talk about- about what they'd been through. So the UNSC kept quiet about them."
"Oh my God," Kai whispered as she stared at him with big eyes. Her hand tightened its grip. "Dex? I don't think the UNSC can come in and make you talk. We can double-check with Vanessa. But if there are kids alive now who survived Aurelia? I think you should consider talking to Goodnight about what happened. For them. So they can understand what happened."
Still visibly upset, Dexter didn't respond. Kai gave his hand a small shake, smiling slightly when he glanced up at her.
"Goodnight seems okay," she offered. "She actually listens, unlike all those other douchebag reporters that wanted to write about you. I've read up on some of her work, she's got a good reputation. I don't think talking to her would be so bad."
"Fine, I think about it," Grif finally replied. Shaking his head slightly, he tugged his hand free and pushed himself to his feet. "I'll let you get back to work, I know you're busy with the last minute prep for the film festival."
"Okay. Want me to call Vanessa when I get a chance?" Kai asked as she unfolded her legs.
"Nah, I'll drop her a message," Grif replied with a dismissive wave.
Grinning, Kai nodded and stood, then wrapped her brother up in a tight hug, which he happily returned. After a few moments, she leaned back and grinned up at him. "Take Caboose with you," she ordered. "I need Smith to get back to work."
"Yeah, yeah, I will. Don't work too hard," Grif teased, feeling a bit more at ease than before.
"Like you even know the meaning of the word work," Kai shot back. Untangling herself from the embrace, she made a shooing gesture and circled back around to sit at her desk.
With a final wave, Grif headed for the door. Pulling it open, he found Smith thoroughly distracted by another one of Caboose's enthusiastic farm stories. Snorting softly, he stomped up next to the visitor and laid a hand down on his shoulder, mindful of the bruises likely hiding under his gray t-shirt.
"You're distracting Smith," Grif informed him in a light voice. "Come on, you can come visit Annette until he's done."
"Oh! Oops." Caboose had the decency to look sheepish at Grif's words.
A look of aghast horror, meanwhile, slipped over Smith's face.
Grif rolled his eyes. "It's fine, Smith, just get back to work. And you," he added, looking back at Caboose. "Come on."
"Right! Sorry, Smith," apologized Caboose as he stood. "I will tell you more about the goats later!" With one final goodbye, the taller man followed after Grif as he started towards the walkway they'd added to connect their two warehouses.
"So how has your weekend been?" Caboose asked as they passed half-filled offices humming with quiet activity.
Grif paused, hand hovering over the door to the outdoor walkway. "Interesting," he finally said. "Went surfing yesterday."
"Bleh." Caboose made a face. "Saltwater is gross."
With a snort, Grif pulled the door open and gestured the other man through to the covered passage. "Better than chlorinated crap or that cow poop filled pond you go swimming in on the farm."
"The cows are very hygienic," Caboose corrected him indignantly. "They do not poop in their drinking water."
"Pretty sure they do," Grif shot back. "From what Wash says, they're aren't exactly the smartest creatures in the galaxy."
"They're my friends!" Caboose declared as they crossed into the next building and passed the offices dedicated to the Sports division of the company. "They always come over when they see me!"
"Because you feed them," Grif corrected.
"Doesn't matter," Caboose sang back. He suddenly broke into a short run, darting over to the door to the Grif family's living quarters. "Cows are sweet and salt water is not!"
"You're delusional!" Grif called back as he followed at a slower pace. Shaking his head, he watched as the door swung shut behind Caboose. Annette would be thrilled - she thought Caboose was one of the most fascinating people ever, had since Bitters and Matthews had brought her home as a tiny baby.
Sure enough, once he was inside, he found Caboose happily greeting the overjoyed toddler. Matthews gave him a cheerful wave from the couch and wordlessly pointed at the kitchen table. On it, Grif found his forgotten datapad and travel mug. There was a sticky note on the datapad with Khloe's email address.
Picking up the mug, Grif was thoughtful as he carried it into the sink to dump out the cooling coffee. He wasn't sure if he could talk about Aurelia with the reporter. Not yet, at last. But… maybe there were other things they could discuss.
It was certainly worth considering.