Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Red vs. Blue or any of the show's characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.
Chapter Nine:
Dexter Grif hated hospitals with a passion. Granted, he didn't know of too many people, save perhaps Doc or Doctor Grey, who really enjoyed spending time in them. The sterile environment, the buzz of machines, and the tense atmosphere that came with impatiently waiting for news: they all combined to make one miserable-as-fuck waiting game.
Bitters and Simmons had both been taken to the back of the medical clinic known as Valhalla. Luckily for Bitters, his hospital visit was more-or-less a precautionary check-up. As far as Simmons was concerned, however…
With Simmons in mind, Grif thought of all the blood that he had seen pooling under the lanky redhead on the Rat's Nest street. The chubby man closed his eyes tightly, fists clenched at his sides as he willed the images away.
If he wanted to totally ruin his apathetic slacker reputation just then, Grif could have cursed that he wasn't considered "immediate" family or some other bullshit like that.
…Simmons was going to lose an arm, he knew that much.
All he knew beyond that tiny morsel of information was that a thoroughly stressed out-looking Doctor Grey had been assigned to the procedure and, because Simmons was an employee of Hargrove's, he was a candidate for some kind of new cybernetics technology.
…Which should be a good thing, right? At least it would make for some awesome "cyborg overlord" jokes later on. Grif kept trying to tell himself over and over to focus on the positives, which was utter bullshit since he never really tried focusing on them before.
Besides, it was fucking hard to do that when he wasn't aware of what was going on, especially since all of the others in the Valhalla waiting room seemed just as upset as he was. It was even more troubling when Doctor Emily Grey, usually so cheerful at the prospect of experimental surgery, seemed hesitant and upset. Where the fuck was her maniacal mad doctor personality when they fucking needed it?
Grif's dark eyes wandered around the waiting room lobby disinterestedly.
Carolina was seated in one of the waiting room chairs, a deep frown plastered across her features and a stormy look in her green eyes. Next to her sat Vanessa Kimball, and the fact that their hands were linked tightly together just then was not lost on Grif.
He'd be lying if he said he particularly cared at the moment, but maybe Carolina would mellow out and be less scary-as-fuck now that she had found someone who understood her. Although, honestly, that might just be wishful thinking on the orange-wearing driver's part since he'd love a chance to take it easy at work, especially given all this fucking recent stress.
Grif's eyes glanced over towards Sarge, who had also come along to the clinic with Doctor Grey. The older mechanic was standing in the waiting room with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl suffusing his weathered features. He looked miserable, but that wasn't particularly new for Sarge. Unless he was threatening Grif or bragging to Doctor Grey, Sarge's face tended to have a default grimace and crazy eyes.
Matthews had been sitting in the waiting room looking for all the world like a lost puppy. Grif found himself thinking of Simmons whenever he caught a glance at the auburn-haired intern. So, fortunately for him, Kaikaina Grif and the rest of Matthews' friends from the Big Gulp had managed to distract Matthews from his worry by forcing him to check out the cafeteria with them.
Andersmith and Michael J. Caboose had gone with them too, Caboose evidently having worked up an appetite due to all the anxiety he was witnessing around him. Grif could understand that sentiment far too well, being something of a stress eater himself.
Speaking of his sister, Grif recalled how Kai had swooped onto the scene in her usual grandiose fashion. When she had entered Valhalla, the tan-skinned girl gave one meaningful glance towards her big brother to gauge whether or not he wanted her company before patting him reassuringly on the back. Having accurately guessed that Grif had wanted to be left alone, Kai focused her attention on Matthews instead.
Grif had felt oddly proud of her, then. He sure as hell hadn't raised Kai to be overly considerate, and she often wasn't, but shit like that proved that maybe he hadn't totally failed as her caregiver.
Franklin Delano Donut had come by after closing up the café early, which made sense considering that all of his employees had wanted to come by the hospital too. The pink-wearing café owner was also obviously worried for his childhood friend. Grif's eyes glanced over towards Donut, currently seated with Frank "Doc" DuFresne.
The bespectacled medic was reassuringly whispering to Donut about the procedure Simmons was undergoing, exclaiming enthusiastically how good of a doctor Doctor Grey was even though she didn't agree with his orange juice and aloe vera treatments. Donut appeared to be only half-listening, though he smiled warmly at Doc all the same. If it were any other time, Grif would inwardly groan at the exchange.
That left Grif to muse about the current absences as he lazily looked at the entrance to Valhalla. Sheila and Lopez had stayed behind to tend to things at the Project Freelancer Garage, though the brunette made them all swear that their coworkers visiting the clinic would keep the two of them posted.
Leonard Church and Tex had gone off to find Washington, Tucker, and Junior. The duo had decided that somebody needed to tell them what had happened and where to find all of them. To be honest, the thought hadn't even crossed Grif's mind. But, he honestly wasn't thinking about shit like that right now.
…Still, Church and Tex must have accomplished what they had set out to do as the doors to the waiting room area opened, ushering the small group of five inside.
Tucker was holding Junior in his arms, the boy looking both nervous and rather tired all at once. Again, Grif could relate: he was more stressed than he ever liked to be at the moment, but he also felt like he wanted to hide somewhere and take a twelve hour nap. Stress and anxiety were fucking weird as shit.
Washington's hand was, knowingly or not, on the square of Tucker's shoulders. In any other scenario, Grif would have given his childhood friend some well-deserved ribbing over the sight. It was a true sign of how out of sorts the chubby man was that he didn't.
Grif watched out of the corner of his eye as Church let out a tired sigh. The dark-haired man sat down in one of the waiting room space's chairs, Tex sinking into the plush seating of the one next to him.
"What the fuck happened?" Tucker demanded not a second later, the dark-skinned man shifting Junior in his arms.
"An accident." Carolina's voice was hollow when she spoke up, as if she was spitting the words out.
Tucker rolled his eyes, "Yeah, no shit. I got that."
"It was Hargrove." Kimball tried filling in the gaps as best she could, though it was obvious that she was rather fuzzy on the details herself, "He had this device, and he…" The dark-skinned woman trailed off, shrugging her shoulders helplessly, "I'm honestly not sure what happened."
"I can't believe the bastard finally perfected it." Sarge mumbled under his breath at nearly the same time, dark eyes cloudy and distant, "Dang-nab-it."
All eyes turned towards the red-wearing former soldier then, all save Carolina's. The redhead closed her green eyes instead, letting out a quiet sigh as if she knew exactly what Sarge was talking about. Fucking Freelancer secretive shit: Carolina probably did know exactly what the senile old coot was referring to. She just wasn't going to let any of them in on it.
"Say what now?" Tucker questioned when it was apparent that no one else was going to speak up.
Sarge harrumphed, "You heard me." He muttered, pulling himself away from the wall that he had been leaning on until then.
"You know what that fucking thing was that Hargrove had?" Grif heard himself ask, surprised at how even his tone was.
"'Course I do." Sarge scoffed, "I helped build it."
Grif stood up at the mechanic's statement, fists clenched at his sides. He'd dealt with a lot of Sarge's crazy shit in the past, but this time someone (Simmons!) had actually gotten hurt. He was genuinely pissed, and he didn't often feel that way: "Fuck you, sir."
Before Grif could say or do something that he'd probably regret, Carolina spoke up, "Sarge helped our father create an automated driving system." She explained as she glanced towards a surprised-looking Church, "It was meant to help during the war."
Washington frowned at the redhead's words. Grif caught the blond sharing a glance with Tucker, but the former Freelancer said nothing.
Tex seemed to figure out what was coming next in Carolina's story though, "But the war ended before it could be utilized, and somehow Hargrove got his hands on it after your dad died."
Carolina's frown deepened, and she nodded. She didn't say anything though, meaning she wasn't going to offer much else to the current conversation.
"I'd been hopin' it would help us replace no good drivers who wear orange, like Grif." Sarge admitted rather glumly, his Southern accent filling the silence.
"Love you too, Sarge." Grif rolled his eyes, not really having the energy anymore to feel that offended.
"Hargrove had come to show me the progress that his company Charon had made with the system, to try to force me to sell the garage." Carolina recalled, casting a glance over at the doors leading further into the hospital, "But he hadn't taken into account what would happen with an actual person's interference."
So, Bitters attempting to drive the car at the same time had resulted in the automated driving system going haywire.
…As well as Simmons going into surgery.
"That bastard does nothin' but steal ideas from other people and then prosper from 'em." Sarge stated rather emphatically as a heavy silence once more descended upon the room, "Why, Doctor Grey's fairly certain this cybernetics project is based off our own one we had tried gettin' offa the ground a few years back."
Grif felt like the whole world was fucking spinning. No wonder Doctor Grey hadn't seemed too pleased with the prospect of this particular surgery, as crazily exciting and experimental as it was.
"So Hargrove used what happened with Simmons to further another stolen project of his?" Church shook his head and whistled, "That's fucked up, dude."
All Grif was seeing at this point was red. He wasn't used to feeling this intensely. It was fucking exhausting.
He was brought back to the conversation by Kimball's voice, the dark-haired woman holding onto Carolina's hand tightly as she talked, "You're not in this alone now." She told the red-haired woman gently but firmly, a sardonic smile crossing over her features, "Though I'm afraid I don't know of how much help I'll be. Now that I'm out of a job and all."
That's right. By being here with the Project Freelancer Garage crew, Kimball, Washington, and Tex were pretty much forfeiting their jobs at Charon. Washington and Tex both smirked at one another, nodding their agreement with Kimball's assessment.
Carolina smiled thinly, "Thanks." She muttered genuinely before pressing her mouth into a thin line, "Though I'm afraid it won't matter much if we can't prove what's happened within Hargrove's company."
Another heavy silence settled over the group, broken up only by the return of Matthews and the others as everyone went back to their own thoughts. Grif watched distantly as Caboose raced over to Church while Andersmith went outside to call Sheila and Lopez at Carolina's request. Katie Jensen and Charles Palomo both grabbed onto Matthews' shoulders, steering their auburn-haired friend towards a seat.
Kai lingered with Volleyball for a moment before sitting down next to her brother, eyeing him carefully, "…You okay, Dex?" She asked in a softer-than-normal voice.
Grif shrugged, "I'm not the one on the operating table."
Kai touched her older brother's shoulder reassuringly, "The gray guy's going to be okay."
…Grif could only hope that she was right.
David Washington sighed to himself as he retrieved two cups of coffee from the coffee pot located in the Valhalla waiting room area. To think that things had been seemingly going so well earlier today after meeting Junior. The blond could scarcely believe how quickly things had gone downhill.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. Shit had a habit of hitting the fan. You'd think after all he'd been through with Freelancer, Washington would have remembered that.
He brought the two steaming cups of coffee over to where Lavernius Tucker was sitting, a napping Junior sprawled on the chair next to the teal-wearing driver. Washington glanced over at the child, wincing slightly. Hospital visits were never fun, especially at his age.
"You've been awfully quiet ever since Carolina and the others talked." Washington couldn't help but note as he handed one of the drinks to Tucker, sitting down next to the younger man on the opposite side from Junior.
Tucker grasped the cup thankfully, taking a long swig from his drink, "That's because this whole thing is beyond fucked up." He finally noted, grimacing in thought.
Washington couldn't help but agree: "It is a lot to process."
The former Freelancer felt another sigh threaten to escape his lips as he glanced over towards Carolina's direction. His old friend caught his eye and gave him a tired, sort-of smile. He returned it shakily.
The exchange was not lost on Tucker, who couldn't help smiling himself, "Well, at least the big mystery as to why she'd been so fucking pissed off with you is solved."
Washington couldn't help but nod his head in agreement, "Yeah. No wonder, I guess."
Tucker stretched in his seat, looking thoughtful, "Think the two of you can be friends again?" He asked carefully, as if afraid of overstepping his bounds.
Washington shrugged before turning to look at Tucker earnestly, "I don't know, but I hope so, Tucker."
"Me too. It's a start at least, you know?"
Washington was so caught off-guard by the sincerity in Tucker's voice just then that he couldn't help but blush behind his freckles.
Tucker's own face seemed to heat up as well, the dark-skinned man turning to look anywhere but in Washington's general direction, "At any rate," Tucker began, changing the subject with a frown forming on his features, "We can't let that asshole Hargrove get away with this shit."
Washington couldn't help but nod his head in agreement, "We'll find a way to stop him, Tucker."
Tucker smirked and raised a dark eyebrow playfully, "That a promise, Wash?"
The blond smiled back, "Definitely."
The two sat in comfortable silence for quite some time following that exchange, with Tucker glancing over at his son fondly as he slept. He let out his own sigh of relief, "I'm just glad that Junior wasn't around when the accident happened." He murmured under his breath.
"That would have definitely been bad." Washington agreed, not wanting to imagine how the poor boy would have reacted to witnessing such a traumatic scene.
Tucker looked over at Washington almost shyly then, "Still, it's a shame our little playdate got cancelled like it did." He noted seriously, "I think Junior was really starting to like you."
"Y—you think?" Washington could barely believe his ears as his face reddened considerably more under Tucker's current regard.
The dark-skinned man nodded, "Trust me, dude." Tucker glanced around them contemplatively for a few moments before turning to Washington again with a goofy grin plastered across his face, "It's almost time for dinner." He noted, tilting his head in the direction of the signs pointing towards the clinic's cafeteria, "Why don't we wake up Junior and check out how crappy hospital food really is, huh?"
Washington couldn't help but smile, "Sounds like a plan."
Antoine Bitters was let back out into the waiting room the second it was determined that all he had from the accident were a few minor cuts and scrapes. He was fortunate, all things considered.
Bitters' customary scowl was suffused over the barista's features, though Grif noted that it softened considerably when Matthews raced over to him to check on how he was doing.
The multi-colored haired man's fingers gripped onto the rambling Matthews' shoulder gently, cutting off whatever the intern was saying with a light squeeze. Bitters scanned the waiting room until his eyes landed on Grif, his scowl deepening once more as he moved past Matthews and made his way over to the chubby man with Matthews hot on his heels.
The dark-skinned young man stopped when he was standing directly in front of Grif. The orange-wearing driver merely raised his eyebrows as he waited for whatever it was that Bitters evidently wanted to say or, more than likely knowing the young man's anger issues, yell at him.
"…Sorry." Bitters finally muttered, looking at the tiled floor of the hospital.
It seemed as if even that little bit of an apology was difficult for him to say, but obviously Bitters felt it was something he had to do all the same.
"B—Bitters…" Matthews began, trailing off unsurely.
Grif stared at the two anxiously waiting young men and let out a tired sigh, "The only thing you two need to apologize for is taking the car keys like you did." He began at length, "That other shit is all on Hargrove."
Including Simmons' surgery, especially that.
Matthews fidgeted nervously behind Bitters, "We're…we're really sorry about that, sir!" He noted shakily, although it was obvious his kiss-ass nature was shining through.
"Then don't fucking do it again." Grif stood up from his chair and stretched before fixing the now silent Bitters with an even stare, "Though if you still feel like making it up to me, you could practice driving more professionally. Maybe even become an intern at the garage."
Bitters seemed to seriously take in what the apathetic man had just said, nodding his head curtly.
But, Grif wasn't finished with Bitters just yet, "Oh," he continued lazily, "And you should totally admit that you want to fuck Matthews while you're at it. Be a maverick."
The two younger men became extremely red-faced, both sputtering at once.
Normally, that would have amused the shit out of him, but Grif had just spotted Doctor Grey emerging from behind the waiting area's doors. So, the chubby man was already walking off to demand an update from her on Simmons.
Grif woke up with a start several hours later when the door to Richard "Dick" Simmons' hospital room closed. The orange-wearing driver winced, the muscles in his neck sore from the odd position he had been sleeping in on the uncomfortable hospital chair.
"Hey."
The chubby man was startled out of his drowsy thoughts by Simmons' voice, and he glanced over in the direction of the bed to see the red-haired man sitting up and staring at him with lucid green eyes.
"Hey." Grif stated himself rather awkwardly, glancing down subconsciously at the gleaming metal appendage that Simmons was now sporting, "How are you…?"
"I feel like shit." Simmons stated bluntly, glancing down at the arm himself and clenching it into an awkward-looking fist.
"It's…it's not so bad." Grif tried, "You're basically a cyborg now. Isn't that some kind of nerd fantasy?"
Simmons snorted, "Could be better though." He frowned, "Though things could have been way worse. Shouldn't fucking complain, right?"
"Simmons…"
"I liked my arm though." Simmons muttered softly, looking as if he were about to cry, "It wasn't robotic and cool, but it was fucking mine."
Grif really couldn't blame the redhead for being upset. Unable to think of anything else to say, he scooted his chair closer to Simmons' bedside and reached over to grasp Simmons' still human hand in his own.
Simmons was silent for a good, long while. The pale-skinned man looked as though he were trying to keep himself from breaking down entirely, taking in large gulps of air as if to steady himself.
"I…I already heard from the others about what happened." Simmons stated at length when he was finally calm enough to do so.
Oh, so they must have just left. That left no doubt then about who had exited the room when Grif had heard the door close shut earlier.
Before Grif could speak, Simmons opened his mouth again, "It—it was a lot to take in, but I think I'll manage…" he looked down at his cybernetic hand that was still clenched into an odd sort-of fist before adding quietly, "…With everyone's support." His green eyes hardened rather determinedly a split-second later, "Be—because right now, all I want to do is help you guys take down Hargrove."
Grif looked up at Simmons' freckled face in stark surprise at the redhead's declaration, "What?"
Simmons offered him a shaky, sort-of smirk in response, "W—well, you were the one who asked me what I wanted to choose to do in life." He reminded him, "And…I'm doing that right now."
"Simmons," Grif knitted his eyebrows together in concern, "Are you sure? You don't have to fucking do anything."
Simmons nodded emphatically, "I'll…I'll get you the information that you all will need to get Hargrove off your backs." He promised, frowning slightly as something else just occurred to him, "Even though it will mean having to go back to work for that jerk some more."
Grif's mouth fell open for a split second in disbelief before he couldn't help the sudden grin that suffused his features, "It is absolutely against the laws of nature for a socially awkward kiss-ass like you to be as cool as you are right now, nerd."
The redhead's face became as red as his hair at the orange-wearing driver's compliment, "I—I suppose it's just because you and the others helped bring out this side of me." He stated before adding in with a smirk, "Jackass."
Simmons became serious once more as he regarded Grif closely, "Thank you, Grif." He muttered sincerely, "If you could just wait for me for a little while…"
He trailed off when Grif reached over with a slight smile, this time grasping Simmons' new cybernetic hand. Neither man said anything else as they gently squeezed the other's fingers.
Author's Notes: Just one more chapter to go, and it should be up in a day or so! :)
Thank you very much for taking the time to read this story! :D