I do not own Red vs Blue.

Inspired by Magic in the Marks by Mayhem21 and In Screaming Color by bizarrebird on Ao3.

Everything hurt.

A weak groan escaped Grif's lips and he shifted his body, which he immediately regretted when pain flared through his entire being. Something solid settled against his chest, preventing him from moving, and he fell limply back against the metal cot.

"Ow…what happened?" he asked groggily. The whiteness of his vision gained colour, bit by bit until the Red Base's main room swam into shaky focus.

"You were hit by Sheila," replied Donut. Satisfied that he wouldn't be moving again, he lifted his hand and regarded Grif intently. "She really did a number on you."

"Of course she did. She's a freaking tank," hissed Grif. Though his body felt like it was broken his mind was in tip-top shape. "You left me, asshole."

"Like you're one to talk." Grif would have turned his head to look at Simmons if he knew it wouldn't bring him agony.

"Shut up, it's my trick."

"Ah, you're up dirtbag!" Stepping into the room, Sarge turned to Simmons and Donut and barked, "You were supposed to tell me when he was awake!"

"He just woke up," protested Simmons. "Literally seconds ago."

"Your response time is lagging, Simmons. I would expect that from Grif."

"He doesn't have a response time."

Taking a deep breath, he gingerly sat up. Grif winced at the stiffness in his limbs and tried to ignore the fire that rippled through him. "I feel like crap," he said hoarsely.

"Yeah, having most of your organs removed and replaced will do that to ya," said Sarge nonchalantly.

Grif blinked, staring at his Commanding Officer blankly. "Excuse me?"

"That tank crushed your insides like roadkill," said Sarge with a laugh. "It was quite a sight."

"You replaced my organs? With what?" Eyes suddenly going wide with horror, Grif asked, "No. Please tell me I'm not a cyborg!"

"You're not."

"I don't believe you."

"He's not lying," interjected Simmons. "I, uh, I lent you a few organs. And one limb. I'm the cyborg."

"Why…why would you do that?" asked Grif in bewilderment.

Simmons tilted his head to one side. "I mean, I'd rather not have donated organs to this war, but I'd also rather not lose my soulmate so quickly. It sucks, but I guess having metal organs is cool. And the metal leg."

"Until you have to go through airport security," chimed in Donut.

"Shut up, I'm trying to look at the bright side," snapped Simmons.

Touched beyond belief that Simmons had been willing to go to great lengths to save him, Grif could not help but smile. "Thanks. I guess I owe you one."

"Oh, you so owe me one," agreed Simmons.

Affection and relief surged through Grif for a brief moment before settling. Grif would have been freaked out at feeling emotions that weren't his if he wasn't used to it. Growing up, he and Kai were always able to feel each other's emotions, twenty-four/seven. He'd thought it was normal. The first time Simmons felt Grif's emotions outside of a soul-bond, he freaked out. Grif was bemused until Simmons explained that no, it was not normal.

"Alright, stop with the mushy stuff," said Sarge in disgust.

Grif would have whipped his head around if he could, spooked by how he could possibly know the affection Simmons was broadcasting. Realizing that it must be the brief verbal exchange between he and Simmons Sarge was referring to, Grif gave a mental snort.

Right. Duh.

"How did he convince you to save me?" he asked, raising a brow. "It's been your life dream to see me dead."

"True, but it's also my life dream to be the one to kill you! And that day will be all the sweeter when I have to wait for it!" Sarge let out an annoyed huff, adding, "Though I wish it wasn't taking so long."

"That tank is still kicking around, and it's got a pretty decent attempted kill record, so you might get your chance," said Grif dryly.

"I can only hope." Turning to Simmons, Sarge jerked his head to the side. "C'mon, I want to make sure all your parts are oiled up."

"But you already—" began Simmons, only to cut himself off and make a peculiar expression. "Right, yes, oil. Always good to oil your parts. Never enough oil!"

Grif's eyes narrowed. "Why are you being weird? Weirder than usual, anyway."

"No reason!"

The pair departed rather quickly from the room, leaving Grif to stare after them, baffled. He let Simmons' emotions roll over him, only finding glee and anticipation. He didn't find any answers, which he supposed was the benefit of what Simmons called a soul-link. They could only feel emotions, not the reasons behind them.

Heaving a sigh, he shifted his legs to dangle off the metal cot. His limbs were still searing with pain, but his chest…there was the familiar, horrible feeling…

He turned to stare at Donut, who lingered behind. The first thing Grif noticed was that he was out of armour, which was odd, since Sarge usually had strict orders against that. The second thing Grif noticed was that Donut was staring at him, almost longingly, his hands twitching by his sides.

The split-second identification of the sensation in his chest caused Grif's mouth to fall open slightly. He immediately peered down at his body, trying to find the soulmark that triggered the connection and found the pink handprint covering the back of his right hand.

"I, uh, thought it might make you feel better if I held your hand," said Donut, running his fingers through his tousled platinum blonde hair. "Skin-to-skin contact always makes me feel good."

"How long was I out for?"

"Three hours."

"You've been dealing with this-," Here Grif gestured to his chest, where the phantom fire was intense and made it difficult to breathe, "—for three hours?"

Donut gave a weak smile. "Yeah, but it's okay. You got run over. You're probably in way worse pain than I am."

This was far too much to take in, considering he'd just woken up from having his damaged organs and apparently a leg removed from his body. Simmons had saved his life and Donut had spent hours in extreme discomfort, waiting to share the soul-connecting process when he was finally awake and functional.

"You're such a dork," said Grif.

He held out his hand and Donut's icy blue eyes brightened. He immediately stepped over and latched onto the extended appendage. Grif immediately felt a flood of delight and eagerness accompanied by a tinge of bubble-gum and roses. He latched onto Donut's left wrist and their souls started to hum together.

Donut was just so happy to be soulmates, to get to have this intimate experience—

'Dude! Do not use the word intimate.'

'Aw, why not?'

'Because it's weird coming from you!'

'Fine. Special experience, then.'

The joy seeping from Donut was almost overwhelming. And the deeper Grif searched Donut's soul, he could see why. The lingering resentment from being bullied in his past, for being told he was too girly and not enough of a man. Being told that that was the reason he didn't have any soulmarks, that he would never have soulmates. That pink was not a boy's colour. They stole his pink shirt right from his body and left him stranded in the cold fall weather—

'Sorry! I can share a happy memory—'

'Don't.'

Grif's fury rolled off of him in waves. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. It wasn't right that they got mistreated and abused for things they couldn't control, for interests that were harmless. It wasn't fair that they spent a lifetime of thinking they would always be alone.

Donut's affection smoothed over him, cooling the brunt of his anger and Grif let the comfort wash over him. There was an inaudible click and they let go of each other, Grif letting out a hard breath. Concerned, Donut hovered over him.

"Are you okay? I guess we shouldn't have done this so quickly after your surgery. But darn it, I was too excited to hold it in!"

"I guess it's better than doing it while I was unconscious," said Grif. Suddenly rethinking his words, he quickly said, "Wait, I meant—"

"I know what you meant," spoke Donut, a tiny smirk curling across his lips.

"Ugh. I think your soul leaked into my brain," muttered Grif.

"This is the best day ever," said Donut cheerfully.

The delight spread through him, blossoming into his chest. Grift peered at Donut curiously, wondering if he too could sense emotions outside of a soul-bond.

"Sure can!"

"Sure can what?" asked Grif in confusion.

"Feel your emotions, silly! That's what you were asking, right?"

Grif gaped at him. "Please tell me you can't read my mind."

"Of course not!" said Donut with a laugh. "I just felt your intrigue and took a guess at what you were inquisitive about."

"You're not shocked?" Grif asked with a raised brow.

"Nope! You're not the first one I'm soul-linked with."

The familiar terminology caused Grif's eyes to widened. "Wait. Soul-linked. Simmons came up with that. Does that mean…?"

"Yup!" Donut raised his hand up, the new orange mark on his wrist glinting in the light, and jerked down the collar of his shirt. A portion of his collarbone was revealed, bearing a maroon handprint. "We've got matching marks!" he said, beaming. "How lucky can a guy be to be part of a threesome?"

Grif immediately prevented the unwanted mental image from entering his mind. "Okay, you seriously need to rethink your phrasing." But he lightly ran his fingers over the pink handprint, disbelief coursing through him. "It's kind of weird."

"What is?"

"You. Me. Simmons. Bullied for having little to no soulmarks. And we all end up here. Don't you think that's weird?"

"Not really. It's fate." When Grif pulled a face, Donut elbowed him lightly in the side. "Come on, of course it's fate! That's what having soulmates is all about. Waiting to meet them when it's meant to be."

"I guess," said Grif, though he wasn't convinced.

"Aw, don't be so pouty!" Donut clasped Grif's right hand and the Hawaiian native jolted in surprise at the sudden influx of Donut's positive emotions. "We're finally together! You should be happy!"

"Kinda hard when being run over by a tank and having organ surgery puts a damper on things," Grif said. But despite his words delight swelled within him.

"Hey, ladies!" Sarge's voice bellowed from outside the base. "Quit the sappy Nancy talk and get out here! We got work to do!"

"Geez. So much for a rest day," Grif muttered in annoyance.

Donut helped him stand and he let go of Grif's hand. "Want me to help squeeze you inside your armour?"

"Damn it, Donut, no!"

"Okie-dokie! I'll meet you outside!"

Donut spun on his heel and before he left to grab his own pink armour, Grif caught sight of the red mark peeking out from behind his shirt, fingers spreading up the back of his neck. His brow furrowed. It wasn't Simmons' mark. Who did it belong to?

"Double-time, boys! Move it!"

No…it couldn't be…could it?

Grif hastily shook his head, dispelling the thought. So what if he too had a red handprint? It could be anyone. Maybe a future Red recruit. Fate may have worked in mysterious ways, but it wasn't that mysterious.