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 Twenty:
Wyoming remained panting on the ground, looking up at the stars. They were in a circular clearing, the night sky framed overhead by the overreaching tree branches that made up their surroundings. Evidently, trying to slow or stop Florida from moving at his usual top speeds was just as ineffective as Wyoming quickening his own steps earlier to keep up with his former comrade had proven to be.
Granted, the brown-haired man had been attempting to deal with someone whose particular specialty was throwing any attack directed his way back towards his opponent with a nasty sort of vengeance. So, perhaps he shouldn't have expected a different outcome in the end.
That particular epiphany didn't stop Wyoming from glaring pointedly at nothing in particular as he heard Florida ripping his axe from a tree close by, "You did not go easy on me there, chap." He finally muttered out loud.
The accusation apparently amused the other man more than anything else as Florida smiled slightly when he loomed into view above Wyoming a second later, "Oh, come now, Reggie. When have I ever done that before?" The blue-armored Freelancer turned his head to the side to pointedly look at a spot over his shoulder, "Gamma, have I ever taken it easy on our friend Reggie here when we spar?"
Judging from the sound of rustling foliage, Gamma had evidently moved from the position that he had taken leaning against a tree while he had watched the fight unfold before answering, "Not as far as I can recall."
"There." A triumphantly smug note appeared in Florida's voice as he returned his attention back to Wyoming, "You see? Even your own partner says as much."
"Bullocks to the both of you." The white-armored mercenary lifted his head up just enough to glare over towards Gamma, "I could have benefited from some assistance in that skirmish, Gary."
The last of his Time Copies, a bloodied hacked up mess on the ground, vanished from sight as Gamma shrugged his shoulders in what was an infuriatingly dismissive manner, "I know better than to get involved in matters between the two of you, Reggie."
"Hmm." Florida nodded his head approvingly at the remark, "Smart lad."
He reached a hand down in front of Wyoming just as the other was sitting up. The brown-haired mercenary glared briefly at the proffered appendage before clasping it with his own hand. The small, reassuring squeeze that Florida applied as he helped to heft him up once more was a gesture he instinctively responded to with a slight squeeze back of his own fingers.
Wyoming glared slightly at the offending digits of his hand, associating it with a troublesome bout of muscle memory and nothing more. He chose to ignore the slight contented feeling that came with the action. He certainly wasn't foolish enough to feel a slight tinge of disappointment when Florida let go.
Instead, Wyoming grunted in response to the earlier dialogue, "You're bloody traitors, the both of you."
Florida raised an eyebrow at that rather skeptically, "Should you really be calling anyone that, Reggie?"
"Point taken." Wyoming's mustache twitched slightly in the uncomfortable minute of silence that followed, "But can you still really blame us for getting out when we did, considering how things so spectacularly hit the fan in the end?"
Florida shook his head, "No, I really can't." He admitted softly before casting a meaningful look Wyoming's way, "Though it would have been nice as rain to have been asked to come along too."
Ah, and there was the heart of the matter. That was why things were so terribly tense and awkward between them now.
Wyoming sighed. They both knew that he had chosen to leave with Gamma like he had because Florida had been excessively loyal to Freelancer at the time. As much as Wyoming valued the other man's company, more than he cared to admit even, he had become far too attached to his Fragment partner to risk his getting caught up in the project's death throes.
"I'd say I was sorry for that, Butch, but I can't help but wonder if you would have even said yes at the time." He finally settled on saying in response when it became obvious he was expected to reply.
"Who can say?" Florida said, his expression remaining a pleasantly neutral one as he shrugged.
The brown-haired man's cryptic reply resulted in Wyoming making a rather big show of rolling his eyes, "Cryptic as ever, I see." He noted with mild amusement since Florida's answer didn't really matter anymore in hindsight, only to raise an eyebrow a second later, "Now, getting back to the reason behind our rather hectic skirmish…"
Florida smirked, "You mean besides being just a friendly way of saying hello?" He mused, clearly enjoying the moment.
"Your way of greeting old friends has always certainly been memorable." Wyoming muttered under his breath.
"I was curious to see if your days as a mercenary had dulled your skills any." The man in blue admitted, his expression turning rather serious and thoughtful a moment later.
The abrupt change in demeanor caught Wyoming off-guard, as did when Florida grabbed his shoulder rather tightly. "There is something that I would greatly appreciate having you and Gamma's help with, Reggie." He told him softly, an urgent tone in his voice that was downright unsettling given his usually calm and unflappable way of talking, "Though I am afraid to say that it would most definitely make things between you and your current employer rather tense."
Wyoming considered what his former Freelancer comrade was saying for a moment. It was unlike Florida to seek out someone's assistance on a mission, especially considering just how frighteningly capable and prepared he always was. Obviously, whatever this matter was, it was definitely something quite impressive. He also knew that Florida wouldn't have even approached him with the offer at all if there wasn't going to be some kind of huge payoff in the end. Florida knew him far too well at this point, after all.
"Anything more specific on what this particular task might entail?" Wyoming asked at length, curiosity momentarily getting the best of him.
"I can't really go into details until I know where you stand on possibly having to directly work with the Guild and other Outer Region organizations." The blue-wearing man informed him, "Because there are about to be quite a few very major upheavals in the Unsc."
Gamma stepped closer to the two men at that point in the conversation, and Wyoming cast a questioning glance his way. His white-eyed partner gave him a slight, practically imperceptible nod.
"Well," Wyoming finally spoke up, looking at Florida's face as he waited expectantly for a reply, "We're certainly willing to listen to what you have to say, at least."
Florida smiled graciously in response. The old human saying "There's a sucker born every minute" suddenly came to mind, but Wyoming wasn't sure if it applied more to him or Florida in this particular moment.
The inn room remained stuffily quiet while both John Elizabeth Andersmith and Katie Jensen awkwardly sat side-by-side near the window. For what had to have been close to the hundredth time since they had settled down to have a proper and long overdue chat, Jensen shifted in her seat, shoulders hunched as if to block out what would more than likely be a horribly painful conversation.
For what was there to say, really? She had been beyond surprised that Andersmith had bothered looking for her at all, let alone that the dark-haired human had taken it upon himself to also get involved in a rescue mission for her sake given what she had done before.
The brunette curled in around herself even more, that oh-so-familiar and constant feeling of guilt clawing its way to the forefront of her being. The tan-skinned girl did not feel that she was deserving of such kindness from the older Magic User, especially considering…
"I'm glad that you're all right." Andersmith's voice broke through the heavy silence, warm and genuine in a way that Jensen truly did not feel she had earned.
"Well," She replied, swallowing thickly, "You know, it's really had in general to get me injured."
Unfortunately, what had been meant to be reassurance on her end ultimately caused her to remember what she had been on the run to try and forget. Visions of twisted metal and choking smoke, of torn clothes but no scratches on her soot-covered skin while there was still blood and mangled limbs all around her in the fiery wreckage…
Jensen shook her head to try and shake the flashback off. Considering what Andersmith had gone through for her sake, she figured that he deserved more of an explanation at any rate. "I'm…I'm really sorry for leaving like I did." She mumbled quickly, screwing her brown eyes shut tightly as she did so.
Her apology was only met with more silence. Jensen cautiously opened her eyes a second later to see if she could gauge her guardian's reaction.
Andersmith had seemed to be waiting for direct eye contact, because he shook his dark head of hair the second that she regarded him, "Katie, there's really no need for you to apologize."
"O—of course there is!" Jensen jumped to her feet at the vehemence of her own outburst, "I…I made you worry, didn't I? Even before the whole kidnapping thing! Running away like I did wasn't right!"
The sudden burst of energy that had overtaken her body just then suddenly drained away just as quickly, and the younger human sagged back down onto the seat next to Andersmith. "I just…" She began to mutter as she gripped her knees tightly, her whole body shaking as tears started to pinprick her eyes, "When I found out what happened, I—" she cut off her explanation with a sob, the memory flashes becoming too insistent to ignore.
How could Andersmith even stand to look at her, let alone agree to be her guardian? Wasn't she just a constant reminder to him of all that he had lost, even if their families had been close before?
Andersmith wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled Jensen into a protective hug, the kind that he had always used with his daughter whenever she had needed comfort. It was the type of hug that he had always pulled Jensen into when she'd had nightmares that had left her crying and screaming in the middle of the night, the kind of visions that she had never been able to remember fully until a few, painful months ago.
"The only thing you ever did was survive a horrific tragedy, Katie." Andersmith told her softly, "You did nothing wrong."
She knew he was right, but that didn't change the fact that everyone else had died during the Plague Beast attack while she had been completely unharmed. If only her parents or someone from Andersmith's family had her power instead…
"H—how can you be so understanding?" Jensen finally got out between sniffles, "I couldn't even protect anyone!"
"You were rather young to be trying out heroics, don't you think?" Andersmith noted, a sad look crossing over his features, "Besides, I hadn't been there to try either." At that gentle reminder as to his absence that day due to a shopping trip, he added, "No one even had any idea at the time that you were a Magic User. It's more of a miracle that anyone managed to survive at all."
Jensen frowned, not quite buying it. But, Andersmith apparently wasn't done with his speech yet: "No matter what you might think, Katie, I'm glad that you lived. That alone gave me a reason to keep moving forward too."
Jensen's face heated up at his admission, and she turned her head slightly to bury it in the crook of his arm, "Okay, and now I feel even worse that I ran off like I did than before." She mumbled into the tan and blue fabric of his clothes.
"Consider it just another sign you're growing up." The dark-haired man assured her in a slightly teasing, altogether warm tone.
Jensen shot him a grateful, teary-eyed smile before disengaging from his one-armed embrace to wrap both of her arms around him in a proper hug. It only took a second for Andersmith to respond in kind.
"Whoa! Um, sorry for interrupting!" A cheerful voice suddenly broke into the inn room as the door swung open.
The adoptive family pulled apart at the interruption, Jensen dabbing at her eyes slightly as she did so while a fond smile grew on her face as she saw Andersmith being even more obvious at doing much the same. He always had been quite a big softie at heart, and she was grateful to see that hadn't changed.
From his spot in the room now, the Guild trainee named Charles Palomo fidgeted awkwardly, having just realized that he had just stepped into something he shouldn't have but was currently stuck there.
"I…er…wanted to show Jensen a cool trick!" Palomo said as he looked to the floor, his dark cheeks becoming even darker with the blush blooming readily across his face, "Y—you know, if you have the time and want to hang out with me. Ah!" He nervously fidgeted even more, "And the, um, others too."
Jensen let out a small laugh to help put the poor, babbling guy at ease, "Sure, I'll be right there."
Palomo's head jerked up at her response so quickly that she was afraid he might get whiplash, his blush deepening even more before his stunned expression turned into a full-on beamingly gleeful one that lit up his entire face, "Awesome! I'll see you then!"
The human practically scampered from the room, leaving the door wide open in his wake as Andersmith regarded Jensen with a surprisingly mischievous, knowing glint in his blue eyes, "I'm fairly certain someone might have a bit of a crush on you." He told her, smiling slightly.
Jensen's own smile turned into a thoughtful frown as she glanced over at the open doorway that Palomo had gone through before a sudden surge of heat seemed to explode across her freckled features, "What…? That's silly!" She told her adopted parent emphatically, "We've…we've only just met."
The fond look that crossed over Andersmith's face then was a downright peaceful one, "I don't recall that having ever stopped someone before." He stated, looking rather nostalgic, "Why, I fell head over heels for my wife in just under two minutes."
Jensen shot up on her feet again, heart hammering loudly in her chest for some unfathomable reason along with her now definitely burning face. She was not going to be having this discussion with Andersmith right now, "A—anyway! I should go see what's up!" She stated in what was probably far too loud a voice than was truly necessary.
Michael J. Caboose raced into the room just then, holding onto his talking gun, Freckles. The blond-haired Dwarf waved at her excitedly as he made his way over to Andersmith, "Smith!" He called out happily, "You need to meet my sister! I think the two of you would be very good friends!"
Jensen grinned, glad that, if nothing else, Andersmith seemed to have made a few new friends while trying to look for her.
Andersmith nodded his head in response to Caboose, smiling as he got to his feet as well, "I would certainly like to, sir." He told the blue-wearing Guild member earnestly, "I still need to thank her for looking after Katie."
Four Seven Niner had waited until both her little brother and Washington had left the inn room for who-knew-what crazy shenanigans before venturing out into the hallway herself.
The door directly across from the room she had been in was closed, and she could faintly hear the voices of York and Carolina drifting outwards from behind it. As much as the Dwarf might want to shoot the breeze with her old Freelancer associates, she would rather wait and not interrupt what could very well be a much needed lovers' reunion.
It also sounded like the younger kiddos were still in the dining area, and she wasn't hungry or thirsty enough to go there yet herself. Which just left the top floor of the inn to explore if she wanted to sate her natural curiosity. Shrugging her shoulders because, hey, why not? Niner headed up the stairs.
Doctor Grey and Doc were going through a list of medical supplies in the very first room that she came across. York's partner, Delta, who Four Seven Niner had always dubbed "the green guy" due to his sharp eye color and clothing color preference, was talking in a quiet voice to both of them. Most likely he was providing intel on how to easily replenish supplies in their current surroundings.
The pink-wearing Donut had dragged himself up the stairs earlier upon their arrival, so she suspected that he was lying down in the next room over to try to restore his energy. Doc glancing every so often in that direction with a lingering frown on his face only further confirmed her suspicions. She wouldn't go to that door since that was the case. She knew better than to deny the poor guy his beauty sleep after Donut had quite literally dragged all of their asses out of the fire.
Glancing around some more, she noticed that the two rooms across the hallway from the ones she had first spied on this floor had both doors open and were currently empty.
…Which just left the final room at the end of the hallway, along with the bench that stood facing it. A familiar lone figure sat there, her still posture helping her to appear for all the world like the statue that she so closely resembled. The female pilot's feet already headed in that direction before she even really thought about it.
"What's up?" Niner greeted casually as she sat down beside Filss before the woman could actually answer. In the inn room, Filss' little sister, Sheila, was in the middle of what appeared to be a very animated conversation with Lopez and Sarge. Four Seven Niner raised a dark eyebrow at the scene, "How come you aren't taking the opportunity to mingle with your sister?" She asked curiously.
After all, considering how long the two siblings had been separated, the Dwarf assumed they had a whole lot of catching up to do.
Filss took in a deep breath and let it out, fixing her clear gaze onto the ground before addressing the airship pilot's question, "I'm…not quite sure what to say." She finally admitted, her voice practically a whisper, "Sheila has very much been enjoying a free life here in the Outer Regions while I…" she trailed off, frowning slightly as she shook her head, "It just feels as if we are worlds apart now."
"I get that." Four Seven Niner muttered, causing Filss to turn to her questioningly so that the dwarven woman was quick to elaborate, "After we left the orphanage where we grew up, Mikey and I were separated for a long time too."
The woman next to her raised an eyebrow that appeared to have been meticulously sculpted from diamond. Four Seven Niner smiled nostalgically as she continued, "By the time we found each other again, I was an airship pilot who was even poached by the Unsc. He had become a full-fledged Guild member." There was a note of pride in that last part of her sentence in particular as she clasped her hands together and leaned forward in her seat with a rather faraway look settling into her eyes, "Our worlds were vastly different by that point, as you can probably imagine. But, in a way, sitting down and talking about our experiences helped bring us even closer together than we had been growing up."
"…I see." There was a soft, hesitant quality to Filss' voice then, as if she was mulling over how what Niner had said could be applied to her situation with Sheila.
The pilot fixed her with an even stare, "So you understand what it is I'm trying to say even though I can be pretty lousy with words?"
Filss blinked, shaking her head emphatically as she did so, "That is definitely not the case, I can assure you." She stated before her expression turned hopeful as she directed her gaze back towards Sheila, "And I think…no, I believe I understand what you're saying."
Well, Four Seven Niner thought while smirking to herself, she supposed that would have to do. She gently reached over and gave Filss' shoulder a soft push that didn't move the diamond woman in the slightest, marveling in the back of her mind at how someone could be that cold and warm all at the exact same time. It was as if the stone that comprised Filss' body had been warmed for hours in the summer sun even though it was well into nighttime.
"Now might be a good time to get started on that, then." Niner informed Filss, gesturing towards the room across from them.
Filss paused just long enough to regard Four Seven Niner carefully, a shy sort of smile gracing her lips that the pilot couldn't help but grin back at and offer an encouraging thumbs-up in response to. Then, she got to her feet, "Will you still be close by?"
The inquiry caught Four Seven Niner off-guard and she blinked, surprised by the rush of blood to her face before she covered it all up with another reassuring smile and a sharp nod, "Sure, I wouldn't mind sticking around to compare notes. If you want me to that is." She told her.
"Thank you." Another devastatingly bright smile, and Filss entered the room.
Four Seven Niner groaned and slid back against the bench. Seriously, what was with her and becoming attracted to women who were probably completely unavailable due to things being massively complicated? The Dwarf peered at the scene playing out before her through splayed fingers across her eyes, just in case she had perhaps given Filss some bad advice.
What she witnessed was Sarge making himself scarce the second that Filss approached, no doubt excusing himself to see what the fox-lady Grey was up to. Lopez followed suit a brief moment later, staying only to gently squeeze Sheila's arm and offer an encouraging nod to her before he left as well. The two decidedly statuesque sisters began conversing together in hushed voices following that, and were hugging one another mere minutes later.
Four Seven Niner smiled slightly at the scene before she kicked out with her boot to close the door slightly and give them some privacy, glad that her familial advice hadn't been too far off the mark for the two of them.
"Sis!" She was cut off from her thoughts by Caboose's loud voice as he clamored up the stairs excitedly, "I have another new friend I want you to meet!"
"Ma'am." The dark-haired male behind her brother actually saluted her, and she raised an eyebrow in amusement at the gesture.
"Andersmith, right?" Niner stood up and outstretched her hand towards him, grinning, "Any friend of Mikey and Jensen's is someone I've got to meet."
Lavernius Tucker was outside by the village outskirts, finally getting that breath of fresh air he had been so desperately craving before. When he left the inn, he had also seen Tex and Church slip out through a side exit, the two hand-in-hand as they made their way to the forest. Tucker didn't care to know what they were up to, so long as Church didn't complain too loudly about branches and pine needles being imprinted on his bare ass later on. Bow-chicka-bow-wow!
He had run into South and C.T. exiting the local tavern together as well. Besides leaning rather closely against one another as they started to make their way back to the inn, neither woman seemed too drunk despite the amount of time they had spent in there. Scary ass Freelancers!
South had even smirked over at the dark-skinned man and said, "S'up, Wash's boy toy?" which resulted in Tucker having evidently amused her to no end when he replied with an upraised middle finger before quickening his steps away because his face was hot out of annoyance. It wasn't because he was blushing or any dumb shit like that, okay?
So, here he was standing in the entryway to town, contemplating again on just which of his badass heroic exploits he should let Junior in on first when he returned to the Guild.
"I'm shocked you aren't trying to get the others to celebrate or something."
The teal-wearing man started at Washington's unexpected but familiar voice, having thought that the Seas was still back at the inn, forced to pet Freckles by a rather insistent Caboose.
Tucker collected himself rather well, all things considered, turning around to see Washington standing behind him, a thoughtful regard to the older man's features once his amusement over Tucker's surprise jump faded from view.
"I mean," Washington said, elaborating before the dark-skinned Beast Folk could say anything, "I just assumed that you were the sort of person who likes to party whenever there might be an opportunity for it."
Tucker smirked in response to that oh-so-apt description, "You aren't technically in the wrong there, dude." He informed the former Freelancer before he shook his head and frowned out at nothing in particular, "I'm just not quite sure I feel like celebrating anything yet."
Washington frowned himself and stepped forward until they were standing side-by-side, "Is it because Carolina got injured?" He prompted quietly, gray eyes fixated on the darkness surrounding them as well.
"I think that's a part of it." Tucker admitted, because it really would be an asshole move to celebrate while someone was still holed up in bed, but that wasn't the entire reason. He frowned even more, pointedly looking away from Washington as he did so, "But I keep having this feeling like we've only just stumbled onto something really fucking huge and that it's going to totally bite us all in the ass later."
After a few moments of stark silence, the Beast Folk cautiously glanced over at Washington. He was completely expecting the blond to make fun of his fears since that was something his other asshole friends would do. The contemplative look that he found on the Seas' face instead sent more than a few alarm bells off in his head. He should have figured. This fucking former Freelancer was paranoid as shit.
"You might not be wrong about that." Washington muttered under his breath.
The Beast Folk's black furred tail swished back and forth frantically behind him, "Are you fucking kidding me?"
Washington shook his head at the incredulity in Tucker's tone, his own speech sincere, "You have surprisingly good instincts, Tucker." He stated rather quietly, "You should trust them more."
Tucker blinked, honestly unsure of how to respond or why he felt a small trill of pleasure at the unexpected compliment. Still, he shook his head all the same though and sighed, "Don't get me wrong, I'll definitely take the praise because I am just that awesome," he ignored Washington's groan of exasperation, "But I am sort of hoping that I'm off on this one." He admitted, "If only because that will make things about a million times more fucked up than they need to be."
Washington smirked, "It's always better to be prepared, Tucker."
Tucker let out another tired sigh. Washington and his fucking preparedness. There was a comfortable silence between the two following that thread of conversation, with the looming darkness of the forest in front of them while the faint light and sleepy sounds of the village were at their backs.
Tucker regarded Washington carefully, recalling what he had been up to before at the inn, "Why aren't you chumming it up with your Freelancer buddies?"
Washington frowned, "It's comp—"
"Dude, if you say "complicated" then I am going to fucking kick you." Tucker smirked at the sudden pout that crossed over Washington's features before he continued, "At least we got your pilot friend and the others back."
"That's true." Washington's smile was back following the slight subject change, "She was actually the only person from my past I had kept in contact with until this whole thing started."
Tucker silently watched him for another moment, finally deciding that he probably shouldn't remark on the rather remorseful look in the other man's gray eyes just then, "Do you want to change that?" He asked quietly instead.
Washington looked up at Tucker in open surprise, apparently not catching his meaning. Tucker took in a deep breath. Man, Freelancers were so fucking slow on the uptake!
"I mean, do you want to talk to the rest of your old team now?" Tucker elaborated since clearly the older man needed it spelled out for him.
Washington stared out into the forest, "I…I'm not sure." He admitted softly.
Whatever had transpired when Project Freelancer fell, it was obvious that it had taken quite a heavy toll on the Seas. Tucker didn't really get it, but he'd seen a lot of people left tortured in one way or another in Project Freelancer's wake.
Tucker smiled encouragingly, reaching out to give Washington a hefty pat on the shoulder for good measure, "Well, if you ever do, I'll definitely be there to help out!"
Washington regarded the Guild member with a look of utter shock and disbelief plastered all over his gray and yellow-tinged face, as if he was hallucinating this whole conversation.
"Dude, I'm being totally serious." Tucker informed him, "You've proven yourself to be an okay guy in my book, which means we're friends now. You're fucking stuck with me from here on out. Just ask Church and Tex if you need proof."
There was a brief moment of unresponsiveness from Washington during which Tucker started to inwardly panic, thinking that maybe he'd overstepped his bounds. But, then, an awkward but completely genuine smile suffused the Seas' features.
"Thanks, Tucker." Washington told him, sounding rather touched.
Tucker smiled right back in response, both men suddenly awkward as they turned away from one another then to cover up their matching blushes.
Richard "Dick" Simmons was definitely not the sort to go around drinking a lot, but Grif was admittedly right about his nerves being shot. So, it was no real surprise that it hadn't taken as much convincing as it usually would have for the Orc to get Simmons to follow him out to the backyard of the inn, where they sat down on the grass together and promptly started gulping down the alcohol that Grif had procured earlier.
Dexter Grif let out a snort of laughter at the sight of Simmons chugging half a bottle of ale and promptly making an offending face at the liquid remains in the container, "We aren't in a contest here, Simmons," he told him rather fondly, "Just take your time and enjoy the moment."
Which was pretty fitting advice, coming from Grif. But still, Simmons felt that funny wave of guilt again all the same, an emotion he recognized as not his own given the Linking Magic. The human frowned as he chose to focus on the tan-skinned man's words instead.
"I have to chug it down. It tastes icky."
"Icky." Grif repeated, smirking at the redhead's word choice as he downed his third bottle all in one go, "You're definitely not a drinker."
Desperate to prove the orange-wearing man wrong even though he was totally right, Simmons gulped down the rest of his bottle with a grimace. Grif patted his back when he coughed afterwards, handing the Magic User another bottle when he gestured for it.
Simmons stared down at the new bottle in his hands, already feeling a bit light-headed now that the burning in his throat had died down. "…Carolina's going to be okay." He murmured quietly, more to himself than to his drinking partner.
Grif raised an eyebrow at the sudden topic change, "That's good news."
Simmons nodded his head in earnest agreement, taking a swig of his drink right alongside Grif. It didn't burn quite so badly going down this time around. "I…I missed Church and Carolina a lot." He admitted shakily as he brought the ale back down, "They were the only family who ever really gave a flying fuck about me."
Grif paused in his own drinking to cast a curious look the redhead's way, "What about your parents?"
The maroon-wearing man shook his head emphatically, hugging his knees tightly to his chest, "My mother…" he frowned in foggy recollection, "She avoided me after my ears…" Simmons trailed off, shaking violently for a second at the onslaught of memories that brought on. His fingers trembled and he had to fight the urge to clasp them over the scarred tissue once more…
He was thrown completely off-guard by Grif suddenly reaching over to gently stroke his ear with his fingertips. Simmons froze beneath the sudden touch, unsure of what to make of how careful it was, of how warm Grif's hand was against his normally always cold earlobes.
"Am I ever going to get the story behind this?" Grif's voice was soft, uncharacteristically so, and Simmons felt his heart hammering loudly in his chest at the still happening physical contact.
"I—I'm not sure it's a good story to tell." Simmons muttered, his face almost insufferably hot at this point, which he blamed on the alcohol although he knew it was only a partial truth.
If he shared his past, then Grif would certainly think even less of him and he definitely didn't want that.
"I want to know all about you, though." Grif murmured, breath right against his cheek and, holy fuck, when had the Orc gotten that close?
Simmons panicked at the unexpected nearness. He was sure that Sarge would have been proud of his coloring now as he tried desperately to think of a safer subject. Grif had asked him about his family, right? He plowed on with that topic, eyes fixated on the ground as he began to ramble.
"You, you know that m—my dad is a huge asshole and I was always…always scared of my uncle…"
Come to think of it, it was at his insistence that Simmons had ended up being registered so early on at the Magic Division. All of the tests and experiments that happened afterwards, almost immediately following the death of…
"My aunt, Church and Carolina's mom? She...she was actually pretty nice." Simmons recalled to the best of his ability at the moment given his rather muddy thoughts, "She'd take me everywhere with them whenever they travelled, wh—when she could…"
But she had died fighting a particularly nasty group of Plague Beasts while out on what was supposed to be some kind of routine operation in the Outer Regions. It was after that when his uncle had gotten even scarier, his cousins sadder and more driven, his own mother all the more distant…
Simmons blinked. Normally, that train of thought would have him become a panicked jumble of nerves on the ground, but he felt oddly calm at the moment. Almost like the calm didn't belong to him. Grif was still stroking the side of his head, the motion oddly soothing now as it continued.
The redhead took in a shaky breath, his head still swimming. "I think…" he blinked, fighting back a combination of a hiccup and a yawn as he did so, "I think I'm drunk, Grif."
He felt the tan-skinned man nod his head more than he saw it, "That was kind of the point, kiss-ass."
Good to know Grif could still make fun of him even in a very vulnerable moment. Simmons wasn't sure how to deal with his rambling thoughts or unexpected emotions, and Grif shifted slightly in his spot on the ground so that the human was more or less leaning against him.
"I can understand about asshole relatives." Grif murmured into Simmons' hair, "When my mom and stepfather died, no one in the world cared about me but Kai."
Simmons wanted to tell him that wasn't true anymore, wanted to make sure that the heavyset man knew that now, but in his foggy state of mind all he could mutter out was, "I'm glad…she's safe, Grif."
The Orc continued to run his fingers through his hair, and Simmons was struck by how this was the calmest he had felt in days before Grif spoke again: "I know. We all are, and it's going to stay that way."
Would it? Simmons really, desperately wanted that to be the case, but what he had seen in that Remnant…
There was another odd, foreign sensation niggling at him and Simmons awkwardly tried drowning it out with the rest of his ale. He made a face, and he felt the chuckle that erupted from the Orc's chest, "You're definitely a fucking lightweight, nerd." Grif said in mock patience.
"I'm not…!" Simmons' exclamation was cut off by a yawn, and the events of the past several hours suddenly caught up with him all at once.
The empty bottle fell with a quiet thud to the ground from his limp fingers and, before Simmons even realized what he was doing, he had burrowed his face even closer to the fabric around Grif's shoulder and chest.
"M—maybe wasn't such a good idea…" Simmons slurred out, "Really, really tired…"
Grif shifted his position again so that Simmons was leaning against him more comfortably.
"You should probably just go to sleep then, Simmons." There was that same tone of unexpected fondness in Grif's voice as he spoke then, but Simmons didn't have the opportunity to dwell on it or that strange, lingering feeling as he drifted off to a (thankfully) dreamless sleep while Grif's fingers were still running gently through his red hair.
Author's Notes: Fun fact: the Andersmith and Jensen convo from this chapter was actually one of the very first plot ideas I had when I was thinking of turning Remnants into a multi-chaptered story. Finally being able to write it out was a rather neat experience, and I hope it flowed well in the overall narrative of this chapter!
Lol, awkward heart-to-hearts and horribly written scenes of romance and drunkenness were brought to you by extreme bouts of sickness throughout my house! With me getting sick and family members also catching the bug, it has been a barrel of fun times here. XD I hope that the chapter managed to be readable given that!
This chapter and the one following it are both a bit longer than the norm for me, mainly because there are some story scenes and moments I really wanted to get to in this first story arc for Remnants. Basically, I'm trying to cram them into the ending. XD Volume I's final chapter is coming up next! In it, we'll get to see just how good Tucker's instincts are as things certainly start to hit the fan to ensure that Volume II will begin with some (hopefully) interesting new plot points in play. :)
Lol, I can't decide if Volume I's ending will be something people will like or not, but I hope it will set the stage for Volume II nicely and that readers will want to stick around to see what will happen next when it gets underway. XD Thank you, as always, for taking the time to read this chapter! :D