A/N: I do not own Red vs. Blue

Set between chapter 6 and 7 of season 7.

As Seasons Pass
Fake Grif

"Fucking stupid idiot," Simmons muttered under his breath as reloaded his gun. "Going to get himself fucking killed, that stupid… Fucking moron. A goddamn dumbass."

The hologram version of Grif showed up when Simmons pushed the orange button on the panel. "You seem to be in a good mood," he said cheerfully, just in time to have a bullet flying past his helmet. "Oh, you missed."

"Shut up and stand still," Simmons growled and fired another shot.

This time he managed to hit him in the leg. "Ow!" the hologram complained loudly but then switched back to his weirdly contented behavior. "That's alright. The sole purpose of my existence is to stand ready as a shooting target. And I deserve that because I'm a filthy piece of trash."

"Just stop talking," Simmons barked at him and took aim.

Holo-Grif tilted his head. "Do you want me to beg for my life? I've been programmed to be able to do that." Of course Sarge had added that option. The real Grif would never feel threatened enough to actually show fear like that. So some things could only come true through holograms – Simmons knew that better than anyone.

"What? No! Just- just shut up!" Simmons shrieked and thought about where to hit the hologram. While he knew it was not real and could not exactly feel pain, it still felt strangely wrong to shoot the orange soldier straight in the head. Not that the real Grif deserved anything less. Fucking idiot.

"I love boners!"

"I know."

"You do?"

"What? No – be quiet! Fuck, you're annoying."

"I've been programmed to-"

"-to be an exact copy of the real Grif," Simmons finished for him with a gun pointing at his orange chest plate. "But guess what? You are failing to even do that 'cause you can't match his level of annoyance! Had I programmed you, I would have made you stupid enough to believe you could survive going on what is clearly a suicidal mission."

Holo-Grif was quiet for a moment and Simmons wondered if he had managed to offend him deeply. Not that he cared – he was, after all, just about to shoot him. Bullets hurt more than words. Well, most of the time they did. The hologram finally tilted his head. "Well, my programming doesn't allow me to leave this room-"

"I don't care! Why are you talking that much?"

The hologram paused as if he was truly considering what to answer, but then he just asked in a way similar to the real Grif: "Do you have any Oreos?"

"What – no!" Simmons sputtered as he was taken back by the question. "And you don't either because you ate them all last week when you tried to see how many you could have in your mouth. And no – 21 is not impressive, it's gross. And now you have nothing to bring with you on your trip, but lucky me don't have to put ear to your bitching because I'll stay right here. So the joke's on you, asshole." Simmons finished with an angry huff, quite satisfied with his scolding. Then he realized this was not the same Grif who had done these things, and Simmons could not help but feel a little but embarrassed. Oh well. What happens in the hologram chamber stays in the hologram chamber.

"I think I can beat that!" the hologram exclaimed, as he immediately caught on to the fact that Simmons had been talking about another person. "Do you have any Oreos?"

"You can't even eat!"

If a hologram could look sullen, this one was doing it. Fake Grif shifted his feet. "Just rub it in."

Simmons gritted his teeth as the anger kept burning inside his metal torso. He lifted his hands to aim at his head. "Oh, you're hungry? Then taste my bullets, asshole!"

"Wow, Simmons," a voice called out slowly behind him. Simmons breathed in through his nose and his grip on his gun faltered. "That sounded so intimidating. Have you been taking lessons from Sarge?"

"Shut up," the maroon soldier called over his shoulder.

Grif slowly strolled down the stairs and placed himself on the chamber's floor with a respectable distance from both the hologram and Simmons. "I mean it. We're just about to shit our pants. Isn't that right, holo-me?" he asked with a nod towards the holographic version of himself.

"I have pants? Awesome! If only I could take off my armor."

Grif sighed deeply. "You're an embarrassment."

Simmons crossed his arms but still held onto his gun. "You're the one to talk," he snorted.

Even though they were all wearing helmets, Simmons could almost see Grif raise an eyebrow in confusion. "Who pissed on your calculator?"

"I'm not pissed. Who's pissed? I'm not!" Simmons sputtered. When he saw that Grif was still staring intensely at him, he deflected the question with a: "Shut up."

As Simmons had not given any explanation, Grif turned to the hologram instead. "Holy crap, what did you say to him? I haven't seen him this pissed since the time I sold his math magazines to Tucker."

That memory did not help on Simmons' sour mood. "It was called 'erratic functions'! Not 'erotic'!" he shrieked in frustration even though it was way too late to correct the dumbass now.

Grif shrugged carelessly. "Meh, he didn't figure that out until after he paid me."

"Again – a fucking stupid deal. What could you even use cash for in Blood Gulch?!"

"Do I need to spell it for you? Vegas quadtrant," Grif said slowly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which it clearly was not.

"You're so fucking stupid."

"Hey!" The exclamation was extra loud as the two versions of Grif said it out loud in unison. Judging by the perplexed looks the orange soldiers gave each other afterwards, it had not been planned.

Simmons rolled his eyes as he turned to the fake Grif. "Stop complaining – nobody cares about you." And that was true. This was a hologram designed to be killed over and over – your feelings for it was limited to be anger. Besides, it could not even fulfill its job to be exactly like Grif.

Without hesitation, Simmons promptly shot the hologram straight in the stomach. It looked up at him in what could have been betrayal (again, helmets) before dissolving into nothing.

"Why, Simmons?" a weak voice croaked out. Simmons turned his head to see Grif (the real one obviously, since he had just killed the fake one. Right?) doubled over with his hands pressed against his stomach.

Something clicked inside Simmons' brain. He could hear it echo. "Grif?" He rushed over while telling himself the logical facts – this is not how holograms worked, there was no way this could be possible, he had not meant to – and tried to pry his hands away to see the wound.

Grif suddenly spread out his arms, revealing that there was no blood or bullet hole, and yelled out with a smug voice. "Got you, asshole!"

It took seconds before the pieces fell in place. He could hear the mechanic parts inside of him whirr as he slowly came to realization that Grif was not dying. "You – you!" The words kept getting stuck in his throat but his body did not lock down. Instead, his left arm went flying and his fist connected with Grif's chin.

Grif stumbled backwards, visibly shocked. With a hand on the sore spot, he tried to recover from the punch. "Ow! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"Me?" Simmons sputtered, even though he knew that he had used his cyborg hand and that had to hurt, but the asshole had deserved it. "What is wrong with you?!"

"I was just trying to make a joke since the mood is so cheerful down here!" Grif spat sarcastically. His body was slightly crouched in what seemed to be a defensive position.

"You're a fucking idiot!"

"You're the one who fucking punched me!"

"Sure – whine about that," Simmons snorted loudly. "Because that's your real problem right now."

Grif had finally removed his hand away from his chin. Simmons could literally feel his angry narrowed eyes through the visor. "Well, I could conjure up a holo-Simmons and shoot him since that seems to be an acceptable way of dealing with suppressed anger in Red Base. But since I prefer not to look like a psychotic maniac, I stick with complaining."

"You're the maniac. What the fuck were you thinking?!"

"I don't know!" Grif was shaking his head in frustration. "That you might laugh or at least feel bad about shooting holo-me."

"Not about that, dumbass." How typical of Grif to be so stupid that he could not even comprehend the real problem. "Why are you going on a suicide trip with Sarge?"

"Because he promised a picnic with Oreos as dessert and how could I deny extra time with Sarge?" Grif said with a voice dripping with sarcasm before changing tone. "What do you think, asshole?!"

"I don't know!" Simmons shrieked so loudly that his voice cracked. "I have no idea at all! Why are you suddenly suicidal?!"

"Oh, so this count as a suicide mission? What about the time we went after O'Malley? Or the Wyoming dude? Or the time we broke into a Freelancer facility?" Grif recited their list of crazy adventures with a tired voice.

"This is different!"

"Yeah, we're going to a desert. Seems pretty chill to me. Or, well, not chill. Fuck it, you know what I mean."

Simmons had to fight the urge to grab the oblivious idiot by the shoulders and shake him in frustration. "This time you are going without the rest of your team! That's the difference. How the fuck else do you think you survived the other times?"

"You know, I normally ask myself how I've survived this far being surrounded by my teammates. You all have a nasty habit of shooting me in the face," Grif reminded him bitterly. To be fair, that had not happened in a while. But, well, he did have some reason to be cranky.

Still, that did not excuse his goddamn stupidity that was going to get him killed. "You're so goddamn stupid."

"If you're that crazy about it, why don't you just come along?"

Simmons crossed his arms. "With Sarge reaching a new level of obliviousness? No thank you. I like staying alive."

"Careful, Simmons, or he might hear you," Grif warned him teasingly, though there was no humor in his voice. This argument had gone in another direction than their usual bickering, and Simmons was not sure of how to feel about it. While such an argument always gave backlashes, this situation required hard words.

"I don't care," he replied stiffly, but meant every word.

"Yeah, what's with all that not-caring by the way? If I didn't know your hatred of snack-cakes, I'd say you were turning into me."

It seemed like Grif had not noticed his own behavior so far. That left Simmons to remind him of his unusual (but still stupid) choices. "Like you're the one to talk. Why are you kissing Sarge's ass?"

"I'm not," Grif barked to quickly to defend himself. "I've just agreed to go along with Caboose's stupid plan – that's something entirely else."

"If you think it's so stupid why are you coming with him?!" Grif's lack of logic had finally driven him crazy. He had witnessed it for years now, but watching the idiot getting himself killed with his stupidness was not something Simmons could ignore.

Grif shifted his feet. "You know why – I'm investing in my own future here."

"That future won't mean shit if you die on the mission." Simmons paused and looked to the side. "What happened to 'today is a good day to retreat'?"

"What happened to 'I'll gladly poison Grif's next meal'?" Grif gave back harshly with his hands on his hips. "Since when the fuck do you care?"

Simmons had opened his mouth to answer when he was rudely cut off by a hologram that appeared out of nowhere. Perhaps the thing was broken. Or maybe the respawn time took way too long. No matter what, this Holo-Grif was not welcomed right now.

"I love boners!"

"Nobody cares!" Simmons and Grif yelled in unison. The hologram backed away slightly.

Grif hesitated for a moment before admitting: "Well, he isn't wrong."

"Ugh, you're hopeless. This is why you're going to get yourself killed!"

"Because I love boners?" Grif asked in honest confusion.

"Because you don't take anything serious! And this time you can't count on me to save your fat ass."

Grif pressed an accusing forefinger against his maroon chest plate. "Here's some fucking news, Simmons. I don't need you, and I did just fine before I was introduced to your sorry hide."

Simmons did not even flinch when he retorted: "You've survived by sheer luck, cockbite."

Compared to all the other things that Simmons had told Grif, this was not meant to be a big insult. Simmons had just been stating the obvious. But judging by Grif's reaction, Simmons could just as well have insulted his mother – no, not mother, Grif did not care about her, instead it was as if Simmons had insulted Kai.

Grif was fuming. He could barely put the words together to get back at Simmons. "You – you fucking! You think I was lucky to get fucking drafted, you asshole?! You think I was lucky that I took that nap? You don't even – you weren't fucking there – you – you fuck."

The orange soldier was shaking, and for a moment Simmons wondered if it was his turn to receive a fist to the face. Seeing his friend like this did cause a tiny knot of regret to take shape in his stomach. But if this was what it took to make Grif see reason, then it would be worth it. Eventually. Still, Simmons could try to explain himself in a bit more gently way. He had opened his mouth when he realized he had no idea of what to say.

Luckily he was saved when holo-Grif cut in: "Do you guys have any Oreos?"

Though, it did not change the fact that he was annoying as hell (almost managed to reach Grif's level now – perhaps Simmons should not have been so quick to judge him). "Shut the fuck up!" Grif and Simmons yelled in unison once again.

After taking in a deep breath, Grif put his glance on Simmons again. "You know what? I'm fucking glad that you've decided to be a fucking coward and stay here, 'cause then it'll be Donut who has to listen to your bullshit. I need – deserve a break."

So that hurt. A little bit. Jerk. "Uh, well, I'm the one who is happy," Simmons stuttered before finding the strength to make his voice sound satisfied. "Now you can't eat all our rations and make a mess of our room. We might finally get some work done."

"What work? You'll invade an empty base? Good work, Simmons, that's a real achievement to be proud of," Grif told him with his usual sarcasm. "Sarge might finally praise you."

Well, knowing Sarge it was quite possible that Grif was right about his last comment. In their leader's mind, an invaded base was an invaded base no matter how little resistance there had been. "You know, I think he actually might."

"Good for you," Grif snapped at him. "Finally happiness in life, huh? Have fun with that."

"You're such an idiot."

"Oh, I'm the idiot?"

Simmons crossed his arms and nodded. "And a lazy fatass."

"Hey!" the two Grifs yelled at him on the same time. They were both showing the same offended body language.

Simmons' headache told him he was not able to deal with both of them right now. One of them was bad enough. He turned his back to them and started to walk out of the chamber. "Oh, shut up. I'm trying to save your life here."

"How?" one Grif asked him.

"By insulting us?" the other one said.

"By making you aware of your own incompetence," Simmons replied flatly.

"Oh, because I don't know that thing."

"It's not like all of you spend your entire day yelling it at me."

"Which really isn't nice."

"It's pretty annoying."

"So fuck you."

"Yeah!"

Simmons had enough of the two Grifs going against him on the same time, and so he finally stopped walking. This argument was obviously not over yet. He turned around to see the two of them standing next to each other with their arms crossed.

The maroon soldier sighed deeply. "Why don't you just go pack your things, Grif."

"Like I'd follow your orders," one of them snorted at him.

The other one nodded. "I'm not going anywhere."

And so they began again. "Me neither."

"Who are you even bossing around?"

"It's not like you can tell us apart."

"We do look alike."

"Well, I'm slightly more handsome."

"Ah, quit fooling yourself."

Simmons' headache had developed into a loud ringing inside his skull. Without hesitation, he suddenly lifted his gun and shot one of them straight in the head. The hologram dissolved immediately.

There was three seconds of silence before Grif raised his head to look directly at Simmons' visor. "You're an ass, Simmons." There was no anger in his voice. No humor, either. It was just an ice-cold statement. Somehow it hurt worse than when he had been yelling.

"Stop being a cry-baby. It wasn't in doubt." And that was true. He knew how to tell the hologram apart from the real deal. Besides, Grif's so-called joke had definitely made it clear that shooting the real orange soldier was not as fun as it should be. Even though it was tempting.

"Because you know me that well," Grif snorted.

"Well, I thought I did, dipshit. But it's not like you are you today."

"Another meeting of the Pronoun Club, huh?"

Simmons gave up. If that idiot refused to see the gravity of his choice, then fine. Simmons would be there and tell the grave that he had warned him. It was not his fault that Grif refused to listen. "You – Just go get yourself killed with Sarge. I don't fucking care."

"Good," Grif replied quickly. "Then quit your bitching."

"Why are you even down here?" Simmons asked him harshly. The orange soldier had never explained why he had entered the hologram chamber in the first place.

"To give you a farewell kiss, you fuck. What do you think? No, don't answer that. It doesn't fucking matter 'cause I'm out of here. Enjoy your fun time with Donut, asshole."

Angrily brushing shoulders with Simmons as he marched past him, Grif stormed out of the room.

Simmons stood still until the last sound of footsteps had faded away. When that had happened, the chamber became painfully quiet. He could hear the sound of his artificial lungs working and it was even louder than normal as Simmons was panting after the argument. It ached slightly whenever he breathed in. Fucking Grif. Messing him up like this. Fucking idiot. Simmons closed his eyes.

The lights flickered slightly as another Holo-Grif took shape.

"I'm a lazy piece of shit!"

Without even looking up from the ground, Simmons shot him.

The hologram faded away and Simmons was left alone in the chamber.


A/N: So this chapter was hard to write, and it took a while before I got the dialogue right. It still feels weird that there is no happy ending here. If it is any comfort, then it will kinda be continued in the next chapter. I mean, even though they all are one-shots, they all affect each other. The last chapter will work as a nice bow and tie them all together.

Thank you so much for your support!