Summary: Simmons tries to deal with being without Grif, while Grif deals with being on his own.
Simmons followed the Reds and Blues to the newest location for Church's signal. It turned out to be an abandoned outpost from the war. Something terrible had happened, if the bodies everywhere were any indication. The maroon sim trooper felt uneasy in this place. Like they were being watched or followed.
His frustration was also growing as they had yet to find where the message from Church had come from. He was beginning to think that Grif had had the right idea. At least on the moon they had food and shelter.
He followed orders and searched the outpost for something, anything. Grumbling to himself as he did so.
"Man, this sucks…" He muttered as he walked around the outpost.
He tried to avoid looking at the bodies of fallen soldiers. They had clearly died horrific deaths and Simmons didn't want to think about what, or who, could have done this.
Finding very little, just like all the other places they had visited, Simmons was getting tired and annoyed. It seemed like there was never anything to find. Walking around on his own he felt more alone than ever. Losing Grif was like losing a limb. He didn't know what to do with himself and he couldn't rely on his normal banter with Grif to get him through the awkward situations.
One thing was clear from all this, without Grif his social skills were even worse.
He had never realised just how much he relied on Grif for his go-to social interactions. How easy it was to talk to him and how that made it easier to talk to the others. Simmons sighed as he thought about the old saying he remembered hearing years ago – you don't know what you have until it's gone.
Safe to say he wanted Grif back. He would never admit it aloud, but he had thought about leaving and going back to the moon. Back to Grif. What was stopping him were Grif's words before they had left.
"I quit…You…I don't like you. Any of you."
Those word hurt more than Simmons was willing to admit. He had thought of Grif as his best friend for years. He was the person Simmons was closest to. Could it have all been a trick? A way to pass the time as everyone else was either an arsehole or insane? Simmons didn't want to find out. He didn't want to face the rejection from Grif again. It was what stopped him from going back.
Instead he focused trying to find Church. It was easier than facing that the most important person to him no longer wanted anything to do with him. The maroon soldier steeled himself as he walked around and made the mental decision to make do without Grif. He could manage without the fat-arse. At least he thought he could. He hoped he could.
Deep down he also knew that the quicker they found Church the sooner they could go back to Grif. He hoped they wouldn't be too long.
He continued to walk around the outpost looking for anything when he began to hear someone whispering his name. He knew he should never have listened to Tucker about horror movie tropes and their current location.
"Simmons…" The voice called out again. The hairs on the back of neck stood up and he knew he had goosebumps.
"Hello?" Simmons answered. Almost not wanting to hear a reply.
"Siiiimmmooons…Siiimmmmoooonnss." The voice replied. Simmons began to grow scared.
"Who's there?" He asked, his voice shaking and fear running through him.
"Siiiimmmmooonnnss…"
"Who's there?"
"It's me."
"AAAAHHHH!" Simmons screamed and spun around to find Caboose standing behind him.
"Caboose! You scared the crap outta me!" Simmons could still feel his heart racing. Caboose jumped back a little but remained close.
"SORRY! I TRIED TO WHISPER TO YOU BUT YOU DIDN'T TURN SO I HAVE TO TALK LIKE THIS ALL THE TIME NOW!" Caboose yelled quickly running out of breath. Simmons looked around briefly to see if they were alone as his heart was taking its time to calm down.
"Okay! Calm down, calm down Caboose. What are you doing here?" Simmons asked as the fear left him and he realised it was just Caboose messing around. He couldn't help but wonder why Caboose had chosen to follow him. The two had not spent a lot of time together but they seemed to get on when they did. Maybe that was why.
But who knew with Caboose?
"AH! Hey, I know Tucker said we should split up but I was thinking, maybe we could split up together. You know, because it's scary!"
Simmons wondered just how long Caboose had been followed but replied, "Yeah, okay."
The two continued to wander around and explore the place. Caboose didn't stay quiet long, "What was this place?"
Simmons replied, glad for the distraction, "It was a human settlement before the Alien War. Horrible massacre. No survivors."
"That must have made so many ghosts." Simmons felt a smile stretch across his face. Caboose could a bumbling idiot a lot of time but it was moments like this that reminded Simmons that Caboose had quite an innocent mind.
"Well, scientifically speaking there's no such thing as ghosts."
"The what…then what happens to you when you die?"
"We just don't know, probably nothing. Grif would say it's one of life's great mysteries." Simmons sighed longingly as he spoke about Grif. He wondered for a brief moment what Grif was up to at that moment and if he was thinking of him.
"You talk about Grif a lot." Caboose's words broke through his train of thought and made him abuse. He also got defensive.
"No!..."
Simmons attempted to deflect away from Grif. He didn't want this conversation. Let alone with Caboose. His logic may work with Church but it didn't with anyone else. Once people died they stayed dead. Sometimes all they needed to do was leave and they never came back.
Fear shot up Simmons' spine at the thought of never seeing Grif again. He shook his head and continued to walk around the place with Caboose.
On the moon Grif was getting frustrated and bored. He had napped as much as he wanted, cleaned the base twice and eaten most of the food.
Wandering around the base he thought about what he could do. He had done everything that he could think of to do. It was a rare occurrence but he wanted to stay awake. It turned out that even doing nothing could get boring if you did it for too long. Doing nothing didn't even bring the satisfaction of disobedience that it used to.
As he wandered he passed the other's rooms. He hadn't been in them since they had all left. His fingers twitched as he stood in front of Simmons' room. He had cleaned the entire base and Simmons would hate having a dusty room to come back to.
Grif soon found himself dusting everyone's rooms as there was nothing else to do.
It had taken most of the day so he decided to nap afterwards.
Waking up he groaned at the thought of nothing to do. With a grunt as he got up he wondered if there was anything else he hadn't done yet. Grif explores the base and searched all the rooms. Finally in the last storage cupboard he found something. Pulling the supplies out he gleefully carries them outside.
There, he laid out the paints, brushes and volleyballs. He painted the image of his friend's visors onto each volleyball. Maybe with some form of company, or at least something to talk to, would help.
And it did. At first.
The relief of having something to talk to was immense. Grif was loathed to admit it but he felt better than talking to the volleyballs than talking to himself. Besides he could practice what he could say to the team once he saw them again and say the things he dreamed about saying.
Starting to talk to inanimate objects wasn't the only extreme thing that Grif did.
His hair kept falling into his face and it was irritating. He had always taken great pride in his hair. It was his way of sticking the middle finger up to military regulations and all the bullshit that he had been through since being drafted. It was also a security. He took pride in its length and it was one of the few things that he took care of.
Now it was a nuisance.
Later that day he stood in front of the mirror and his hands shook. He couldn't believe he was about to do this but it was initiating him. Plus a small part of him wondered if Simmons would like what he was about to do.
He took a deep breath and with shaky hands reached for the scissors and chopped off a section of hair. He continued cutting until he was satisfied with it.
After he was finished the scissors dropped into the sink with a clang. He looked in the mirror and examined the sloppy haircut. It was easier to deal with and he was sure he would start growing it back once he met up with everyone again.
Time continued passing on the moon and Grif continued to struggle with boredom. Talking to inanimate objects and cutting his hair were just two ways he had attempted to deal with it.
Finally! Another chapter out. I'm not totally happy with Simmons' part but I'm sorting it out for future chapters. Bit of a pain getting this chapter out but I'm glad it is.