I'm sorry it took so long to update, real life got in the way. Between applying for colleges, homework, and marching band, I barely have time to eat and sleep anymore.
Here I'm going to respond to some of the comments and questions I've been asked:
Grif is out of character / too emotional. – I can see where this comes from, and I partly agree. He is out of character, but that is one of my rights as an author. I myself find it hard to believe that he can just put up with all the crap he's dealt and just continue on like he does. That's my point of view, and I'm not asking you to agree. Just pretend when reading this story.
Also a bit of a warning to go with that. This story is Angst, so Grif will be going very out of character. While out of character though, I believe if you really think about how he's treated, his OOCness doesn't seem too un-realistic.
Shouldn't Grif be sewn together with Simmons' body parts? Nope. This takes place between seasons 1 and 2. If you recall, the switching of the body parts didn't happened until the end of season 2.
Since that night, Simmons had been backing off on teasing Grif. He tried to make conversation when Sarge wasn't present, and when he was he only half-heartedly poked fun at him. Sarge too had backed off, going back to his normal amount of Grif-bashing. Simmons noticed however that Grif was still bothered more than normal by it, but only for a few days. One day, he carried on as if nothing was ever wrong. Simmons was curious about the sudden change in attitude, so he decided to ask when they were on guard duty together. "Grif?"
"Hmm?" Grif replied, lazily as ever.
"What's going on?"
"What do you mean?" Grif asked, turning to face his maroon colored teammate.
"Well, yesterday you were as pissed as ever at everyone, and today it's you act just like you did before the.. jeep incident." Simmons said the last part cautiously, not wanting to anger the other private.
Grif scowled, unseen behind the reflective faceplate of his helmet, but let out an audible sigh before replying. "Look, I was just overly stressed and shit, okay? I found an easy way to let myself calm down. I don't want to get into it, so just drop it."
This raised more questions in Simmons' mind, but he decided not to press on for answers. The two stood in silence once more until an explosion from inside shook the entire base. The words "Son of a bitch!" escaped both Grif and Simmons' mouths at the same time.
"What the hell was that?" Simmons asked as he regained his footing.
"I have no idea, go check it out."
"What? Why me?"
"Because someone needs to stay on guard duty. If it was a sneak attack by the blues they still have to cross the canyon to get back to their base."
Simmons stood there and wondered, 'since when has Grif had that kind of logic?' but was kicked out of his thoughts when Sarge came out onto the roof of the base. "What's going on sir?"
In an slightly irked tone, the superior officer replied "Donut blew something up in the kitchen. Simmons," The maroon private saluted. "You're the one with the most medical training here. Donut knocked himself unconscious, drag him down to the medical ward and make sure he isn't dead."
"Yes sir!" Simmons ran inside to find the pink private.
"Grif," Grif rolled his eyes behind his helmet, he could see where this was going. "Since Barbie here isn't able to clean up the mess, I want to you to do it."
"Yes sir." Grif stated unenthusiastically as he trudged into the base. He stopped before the ramp though. He turned and said, "I'm going to get out of the armor first though so it's going to be a few minutes before I start." Then continued into the base, not giving Sarge a chance to reply.
Simmons quietly closed the door behind him as he exited the med-ward. Donut took quite a blow, but only sustained minor damage. A few bruised bones, so he'd have to take it easy over the next couple weeks, but at the moment he needed rest. As he walked to his room he noticed that Grif was on hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor. "Grif? How long have you been cleaning?"
Grif looked up at Simmons standing in the hall. "I haven't kept track of time, I'd say since about 10 minutes from when you ran inside to find Donut." He said before continuing to scrub.
"Are you serious? That was 3 hours ago!" Simmons exclaimed.
"Sounds about right, I'm almost done though." Grif dipped his sponge into the pail nearby, wrung it out, and continued to clean. "A few more minutes and Sarge should be satisfied."
Simmons noticed that Grif was wearing a long sleeve shirt, and it was dripping water from when he had reached into the bucket. "Why don't you roll your sleeves up?"
"I don't know, it didn't bother me so I didn't think about it."
Simmons wasn't convinced, but decided to let it slide. "Whatever, I'll see you later." Simmons said before continuing to him room. About 10 minutes later though he heard Grif screech some incoherent word from the kitchen. As Simmons went out to see what the problem was he passed a pleased Sarge carrying part of the Warthog back outside. What he found when he got to the kitchen area there was a furious Grif and the once clean room now splotched with a black, gooey, substance. "Is, is that oil?" Too furious for words, Grif just nodded. "What happened?"
Grif snorted and replied, "Well I finished the floor, so I went and changed." He held up his right arm showing off a new, dry, long-sleeve shirt. "I come back out here to find Sarge had drug a part from the Warthog purposely coated in oil, and set it down on every open counter." Simmons opened his mouth to say something, but Grif cut him off, "If that's not enough, he goes on about how he's close to having the jeep fixed even without Lopez, and then bitches at me for not having the kitchen clean yet!"
"I…" Simmons was at a loss for words.
"Fuck it. Just leave me alone." Grif sighed turning his back to Simmons, refilling a bucket with soap and hot water. "This should only take an hour, maybe two to clean" As he began to work on one of the counters he added on under his breath, "if I'm lucky."
While Grif had been acting more like his usual self, he was acting more and more different at the same time. While his actions were 'normal' his attitude was odd. Simmons couldn't place his finger on it, but he was determined to find out what was different about his teammate. The only lead he had to go off of was this 'stress release' Grif had mentioned, but whatever it was Grif did it alone, inside his locked room, and it only took a short amount of time. 'If only I could get in his room, see what it is he's doing in there. But how? He'd never let me in, let alone letting me watch his every move. Hell, it might be something I'd have to watch a few times to understand, but he'd never let me… unless. That's it! Now, how am I going to do this?'
At the end of one of their guard-duty shifts, Simmons confronted Grif. "Hey Grif, I need to see your armor's helmet." The blue's activities had been slow recently, so both solders had not worn their helmets while on duty.
"Why?"
"I was tinkering around with mine before duty, and found a circuitry problem with it from the Donut-grenade incident way back when. I want to make sure that it's not in yours either." Grif raised an eyebrow, but headed down the ramp leading inside to grab his helmet.
He returned a minute later, and as he handed the helmet to Simmons he asked, "What was this for again?" In an I-don't-trust-you tone of voice.
"I found a circuitry problem in my helmet. Judging from the slight plasma residue in the area I found it in I'm assuming it occurred when Donut had the grenade on his helmet blow up. Because he got new armor altogether, it wouldn't be in his. But because you were just as close to the explosion as I was I want to check that your helmet doesn't have the same bug mine did." Simmons replied without missing a beat. This seemed to be a good enough answer for Grif, for he turned around and headed back inside the base. When he was out of hearing range, Simmons let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. 'It seemed like he wasn't going to buy it for a minute. Now, to get this thing set up.'