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-Nine:
Richard "Dick" Simmons briefly closed his eyes, his forehead resting against the cool surface of the one-way mirror that showed the playroom and observation area as he tried hard not to dwell on what he had just done. It wasn't that he felt any real modicum of regret for his actions. Truthfully, the redhead would have felt some measure of that if he had opted to keep the man in a cell instead.
But there was a strange lingering sense of unease and aching whenever he recalled the memory of Dexter Grif, still unconscious thanks to the sleeping aid he had given the chubby man, being hauled over Sharkface's shoulders. Hopefully, Grif would be taken as far into Rat's Nest and away from the Staff of Charon as was possible.
Perhaps his nerves were because of the desperate hours they had spent together? Or was the unease because Grif hadn't been awake at the time of his departure? Simmons' face burned up at the mere thought of what they could have possibly talked about beforehand if the orange-wearing man had been up for it. Would Grif try to convince Simmons that he knew all of them again?
The cyborg stepped away from the glass and shook his head. Maybe he was just regretting that, in the end, he could only save one of the captives from Chorus as the doubts about his father continued to grow.
He resolutely tried to ignore the lingering memory of the feel of tears sliding down his face, of the warmth of Grif's own as Simmons had reached out to touch his before their lips had crashed against one another's.
There was a small tap on the surface of the glass, and Simmons looked up to see the little female infant's face lit up in wonderment from her position encircled within a nurse's arms. She was no doubt enraptured by her reflection, her tiny hand reaching out to touch the mirror again…
Simmons smiled wistfully at the innocent sight, though he knew she couldn't see him. He reached out and tapped the glass she touched with an index finger, the baby's mouth turning into a happy "o" at the sound.
But the moment was over before Simmons could even blink as the nurse suddenly turned and left for another corner of the room. He watched them go, an odd sense of regret and longing washing over him before a sudden urge had him moving away to leave the ship before he could question it.
…Maybe going outside would do him some good, help him to get outside of his own head. Though if that was the case for his sudden flight, why did he come here of all places?
Simmons found himself standing in the middle of a rather bustling warehouse that had been close by the ship. People were milling about, observing glowing boxes that were just the right size for a human adult. Transport cells, his brain helpfully supplied as dread and a cold sweat started to overwhelm him. Some seemed to be browsing, others were chatting like old friends in groups as if this whole situation was completely normal. There were even some dressed like servers who seemed to be prepping food and drink stations along with crates and displays of weaponry and other tech.
Right, Simmons thought with a sinking feeling, there was to be a party tonight for Hargrove to sell the "wares" he had acquired from Chorus. His father missed his old days of parties and banquets, though why Simmons could never guess, and still tried to re-enact them even in places like this.
Personally, Simmons had always thought it was in rather bad taste but like fuck was he going to tell Hargrove that. Berating himself for even being there in the first place, Simmons turned around to leave, decidedly not looking in the direction of the cells as he did so.
"Simmons!"
His feet, however, stopped of their own accord when he heard a strangely familiar voice calling out his name rather desperately. He turned his head with a sigh, not at all surprised to see the dirty blond-haired man in pink trying to wave him over.
Beside his cell was one containing a blond-haired young woman in tan and pink herself and next to her, jumping up now that it seemed as if the redhead wasn't going to leave right away, was a tan-skinned young woman who looked so much like Grif that they were no doubt batch siblings. His stomach and chest ached at the sudden reminder of Grif as he forced himself to walk over to the three transport cells.
"What the fuck happened to my brother?" Kaikaina Grif loudly demanded as she slammed a fist into the energy shielding, apparently oblivious to the pain that caused in her obviously urgent state of mind, "What did you do to him?"
"Captain Simmons," the blonde next to her was speaking up rather hesitantly following Kai's outburst, "You didn't hurt him, did you?"
"C'mon, ladies, there's no way that Simmons would ever hurt Grif!" The pink-wearing Franklin Delano Donut tried assuring them, casting a sad look the lanky redhead's way, "Even if he is acting a tad unusual right now."
Simmons felt as if he should be upset that they were all acting like he was one of them somehow, but he just felt strangely hurt instead. His mouth froze around a "not intentionally" that he couldn't quite get out of his throat.
Kai sniffled and he felt even worse that her obvious concern for her brother was causing her so much distress, "That's…that's true." She said in response to Donut's reassurance, "I know deep down he's still the same nerd who is head over heels in love with Dex." Simmons' face felt like it was on fire, and Kai fixed him with a new pleading stare, "So, come on, Simmons," she implored once more, "Where the fuck is he?"
"She just needs to know he's safe." The girl beside her tried to explain.
Simmons swallowed thickly and nodded his head in understanding, "I can't…can't say how here but…" He tried fixing Kai with a probing stare of his own that would hopefully convey the truth behind his next words, "He…he is. I promise you that."
The yellow-wearing girl nodded her head, looking as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders, "Thanks, nerd."
The blonde (Volleyball, some part of his brain helpfully supplied though he did not know how or why) looked relieved too, "And Junior?"
The little boy with the glowing teal lines he had last seen trying to make a little baby smile with hand gestures and over-the-top facial expressions. He nodded his head shakily to indicate that he was safe too, for the moment, and he quickly turned to leave because this was a mistake and he couldn't help these people and…
"Simmons?" Donut's voice was tentative and rather sad-sounding and it gave the redhead further pause because he just knew somehow that tended not to be the case, "Do you really not remember us? At all?"
Something was tugging at the back of his mind, a little voice screaming desperately that he fucking should, but before he could even try and respond an ice-cold hand wrapped itself around his upper arm. He found that he was being pulled away from the cells and closer to the entrance of the warehouse by none other than his adopted father himself.
"That's quite enough, Richard." The older man said in a voice that left no room for argument. Hargrove cast a seemingly indifferent, assessing eye Simmons' way, "You still look pale." He noted with the tiniest of sighs, "I know how conflicted you get over these deals of mine, and clearly your health hasn't recovered yet from that latest surgical upgrade."
Simmons opened his mouth to try and argue that he was really fine when his feet chose that moment to stumble over nothing as they walked. He blushed in embarrassment at the near-trip, while Hargrove smiled thinly in a knowing way. His grip on his arm tightened, "Try to hide it all you want, Richard, but I know you better than anyone."
The cyborg frowned, a distant voice in the back of his head that sounded an awful lot like Grif screaming that Simmons knew that wasn't remotely true. His gaze hesitantly turned back towards the cells once more.
"You should go and rest up." Hargrove told him with finality, "You've had a very strenuous day, haven't you?"
Simmons' face went red again at the implication that Hargrove knew damn well what he had done with Grif earlier. His eyes still lingered back on the cells.
"I think," Hargrove used his "son's" silence to continue, "Perhaps it would be best for you to remain on the ship for the rest of our time here." He stared at Simmons pointedly, "Especially with your lingering sympathies to our cargo."
"B—but…!" Simmons tried weakly arguing.
The grip on his still human arm tightened rather painfully, and Simmons felt the implied threat before Hargrove even spoke, "Don't argue with me, Richard." He told him succinctly, "Especially not after what you did."
The blood in Simmons' veins froze because Hargrove knew. Not wanting to upset or disappoint the man further since it wouldn't do him, Grif, or even Sharkface any good if he did so right now, Simmons complied with his father's order and allowed himself to be ushered back to the ship.
He was led back to the very same room in the lab were he had been with Grif mere hours before, his body heating up once again with the memory.
"Hello, Richard," Price was there already, an injection in his hand as he gestured towards the bed, "Please lie down."
The sheets had already been replaced. He was oddly almost disappointed at that fact despite the hygienic benefits of clean laundering as he did just as he had been instructed and lied down, wincing only slightly as the needle dug into the skin of his arm.
"Um…what's that for again?" Simmons asked rather timidly.
Price's smile was far from comforting, "My, you must be much more disorientated than you're letting on if you don't recall even the anxiety medication that you take."
Simmons frowned. He had always been extremely anxious, but he could never recall having taken shots for his nerves before. As he was about to mention this, his eyes started to droop of their own accord and his mouth felt too heavy to even open.
"It seem we need to continue monitoring the results of this secondary project closely." He heard Hargrove telling Price overhead, their voices now floating above him.
…Even though the sheets were new, he could still faintly smell the scent of Grif all around him. Like a comforting, all-enveloping warmth.
And then, suddenly, Simmons remembered.
Thankfully or not-so-thankfully for him though, the medicine put him under before any traces of the shock or hurt could register clearly on his face.
He remembered Chorus, the lieutenants, the Reds and Blues. Everyone and everything.
Grif.
And then he was sinking into darkness.
"Hey, Grif, wake the fuck up already!"
The oddly familiar voice and the din of a lot of background noises had Dexter Grif blearily opening his eyes, albeit rather reluctantly as he had been having quite a nice dream of his and Simmons' arms wrapped around one another as he pulled the redhead impossibly close and…
The pleasant dream merged with the more painful memories of the desperate time they had just spent together, and his eyes widened painfully to dim lighting as he jumped up from his chair. He hadn't been sitting before, had he? Tan-skinned hands pressed against the surface of the table that his head had been resting on moments before…
"Simmons?" Grif called out in a panic, frantically looking around his bewildering new surroundings for any sign of the redheaded cyborg.
He was in what could have very well been just another dive bar in any region, with the usual assortment of clutter and grime as well as the typical patronage that filled such establishments. Cass would have a fit if she saw the condition of this place.
It wasn't Simmons who was seated across from Grif in the dingy place, bringing a dirty-looking glass of booze to his scarred mouth. No, Simmons would have had a panic attack just contemplating doing that. Rather it was Terrence (Sharkface, as he seemed fond of calling himself now) who was regarding Grif with a mildly bemused expression.
"Simmons is not here, obviously." Sharkface informed Grif matter-of-factly as he put down his now empty glass, "Though this whole break out of jail stint was that guy's idea." He seemed almost impressed as he added, "Wouldn't have thought your boyfriend had it in him, especially with all that mind-fuckery they pulled on him."
Grif's eyes narrowed, "Break out of jail?" He glanced down, for the first time noticing that he was not dressed in anything but civilian clothes and that the bomb that had been around his neck was now resting on the table's surface. Simmons had arranged for him to be let go after…?
"Figured you could use a drink." Sharkface gestured to the full beer bottle by Grif's hands.
Grif barely even registered the gesture from his former big brother figure of sorts, "What the fuck is going to happen to Simmons?" He demanded, his fear only intensifying, "Or to those kids? Or to my sister and the others?"
"Fuck if I know." Sharkface grimaced, looking as if this was definitely not a conversation he wanted to be having, "I still want those asshole Freelancers to suffer, but you and yours going through this shit wasn't exactly what I had in mind."
Grif bit down the urge to say that he also considered those Freelancers a part of his family now too. He didn't want Sharkface's small amount of conscience here to shrink even more and negate Simmons' hard work. If he was on the outside, maybe he could somehow…
"At any rate, while you've got your fix currently, I doubt you'll last too long without Simmons to help you out."
Grif started. Just how much about all of them did Hargrove and his subordinates actually know? He hadn't even had the chance to explain the new dynamic with Simmons yet before all of this horribleness had happened.
"Guess I won't be seeing you again, kid." Sharkface stood up, grabbing the bomb that was evidence of Simmons' actions and looking over at the heavily-armed bar customers who were now pointedly regarding their conversation with rather marked interest, "I paid these guys a hefty sum to keep you detained until this sale shit blows over."
…Which would totally fuck up whatever small opportunity Simmons had risked giving him. Grif frowned and stood to follow after Sharkface, who only paused for a moment to mutter a half-hearted "Later, or not." over his shoulder at him. As if on a silent cue everyone else in the dive stood up as well.
"Son," the grizzly-looking bartender started to walk around the bar towards Grif, his own gun already out, "I think maybe it's time you got well-acquainted with our backroom for a while."
Before Grif could even curse at this new turn of events, the door to the bar once again flew open, a figure in red armor standing in the entrance with his shotgun at the ready.
"Well I'll be!" Sarge exclaimed loudly as he kept the weapon leveled at the bartender's newly exposed back, "I figured this place looked like a good last minute waterin' hole for intel, but I never thought I'd find one of our own here." He tilted his head in Grif's direction, "Get on over here, dirtbag. We should skedaddle."
Grif couldn't help but smile slightly at the odd hint of relief in the older man's voice as he made his way over to the exit under Sarge's protective cover, "For once I'm glad to see you too, Sarge."
If Sarge and the others were here, then he could definitely make sure that Simmons' actions wouldn't go to waste. He could help save them all.
Sarge harrumphed, but there was a slight smile in his usually gruff tone of voice as he added, "Don't go getting' all sentimental on me now, Grif."
"Hey, Bitters?"
Antoine Bitters sighed at the tentative voice calling his name to the right, "What is it, Matthews?"
There was a slight pause, as if the younger man was debating whether or not what he was about to say was even worth it, "Do you…" Matthews paused again, took in a deep breath, and tried once more, "Do you think we'll all be bought together or…?"
"Don't even fucking think of that right now." Bitters said, wishing he could see Matthews clearly as his hands clenched to fists at his sides.
The frown in Matthews' voice was apparent, "B—but…!"
"Butters is right!" Caboose suddenly called out from across the way in his own transport cell that was nearly too small for him, "Church is going to come rescue us and then Freckles will shoot confetti and we will all go to a party while Santa explains to us the true meaning of Christmas!"
"That seems oddly specific, Captain Caboose." Jensen gently added in from Bitters' left.
"I wrote about it in my dream journal once." Caboose lowered his voice to a loud, conspiratorial whisper.
"Oh, you have one of those too?" Palomo seemed to perk up at this bit of information, "I keep mine under my pillow."
"So that your dreams will come true?" Jensen teased.
The darkening blush on Palomo's face was apparent even through the heavy energy shielding, "How did you know?"
"I like to tell Church about them." Caboose continued, "He is the best at pretending to listen."
Bitters knew what they were really doing. They were trying to distract Matthews from his fear. His mouth twitched upwards slightly at that realization.
"Y—you guys!" Matthews sniffled out, clearly also getting it.
"Save your tears for when we get out of here, Matthews." Bitters promptly told him.
There was a sharp burst of cruel laughter, and Bitters glared as one of Hargrove's mercenaries strode into their midst. He was an asshole who went by the name of Zachary Miller, and he seemed to take great pleasure in taunting Charon's captives whenever the opportunity for it arose. Bitters couldn't help but imagine him just lying in wait like the jerk he was for just such moments.
"As if there's going to be a fucking chance of that happening." Miller told Bitters with a full-on sneer covering his face.
If there wasn't a wall of volatile energy blocking him from doing so, Bitters would have knocked his ass to the ground.
Miller smirked and placed special attention on the cells next to Bitters then, "Sale's coming up, and I just know you guys will be some big hits." He told Jensen and Matthews in a fake amicable tone, "The demand for unaltered young bodies is always pretty high." He grinned maliciously as he added with glee, "I wonder just who will buy you two and why."
Bitters didn't have to see Matthews to know that he had probably blanched and shrank further into his cell. He could just picture Jensen's stricken look as the words sunk in.
"That's not nice. At all." Caboose said in a surprisingly low voice, "I don't think we can be friends."
"Hey, quit being such an asshole!" Palomo shouted.
Bitters stepped right up to the shielding that separated him from Miller rather threateningly.
Miller waved a finger and "tsked" at all of them, holding up an all-too familiar remote, "I'd still be on my best behavior if I were you." He mockingly advised before happily sauntering off.
Bitters let out a shaky breath and kicked the side of his cell, ignoring the pain that the action caused, "Fuck that guy."
There were a few moments of uneasy silence, and then surprisingly it was Matthews who spoke up, "It's…it's going to be okay, Bitters."
He snorted at the auburn-haired lieutenant's attempt to comfort him, "How are you so damn calm?"
"Me?" Matthews choked in surprise, "I'm…I'm terrified."
Just like that, Bitters was desperate to think of something, anything to say to help reassure the young kiss-ass again, but he stopped as a looming figure was suddenly standing right in front of him.
"You." Locus gestured towards Bitters with a tilt of his head as the shielding suddenly dissipated, "Get out."
He was equally surprised as he warily stepped out to find a sullen-looking Washington behind Locus.
"Bitters." Washington dipped his head towards him in way of acknowledgement, "You okay?"
The dark-skinned man raised an eyebrow, "What do you think?" He asked in aggravation.
Before Washington could respond, Matthews was uncertainly calling out, "B—Bitters?"
Bitters turned to the auburn-haired man and tried giving a reassuring smile, "It's going to be okay, Matthews."
"What's going on?" Jensen demanded.
"Are Butters and Washington going on a field trip?" Caboose asked, "What will they have for snacks?"
"All of you. Quiet." Locus ordered without any fanfare before he pushed the two men he had just released in a direction away from the cells, "Move. Now."
The two glanced at one another but knew they had to comply thanks to the bombs still wrapped around their necks and the others', the added security, and being wholly outnumbered. They silently followed Locus with growing trepidation as he took them through a less crowded part of the warehouse and down a surprisingly secluded path once they were outside.
It was a solid twenty minutes before the towering mercenary in steel and green motioned for them to stop in an alleyway, another moment of stunned silence as they both watched their suddenly deactivated bombs drop to the dirt-covered ground.
"There." Locus stated as if that completely explained everything.
Washington took a step forward, though he wisely kept his distance as he knew Locus was still armed and very dangerous in close quarters, "What the hell is going on?" The former Freelancer demanded.
"I'm giving you a chance to escape." Locus informed him, "You should take it."
"Why?" Washington looked at him suspiciously.
Locus shrugged, "I have my reasons, Agent Washington." He jerked his head to the alley's exit, "Go. Your comrades should be close by."
Washington's gray eyes never once left Locus' impassive helmet, "Bitters," he called out, "Go find Tucker and the others and tell them what's happening."
"But…" Bitters stared at the two men reluctantly, realizing from Washington's determined pose that the Freelancer didn't intend to come along with him.
The blond-haired man let out a sigh, "We still don't know where exactly Junior and Simmons are." Washington informed him, "And someone should help organize our escape attempt from the inside."
"Sounds shitty, but I get it." Bitters grumbled, "So long as it gets everyone out, I can't complain."
He turned and left without looking back, only hearing Washington say to Locus, "Hurry up and make it look convincing."
The sound of an armored fist hitting flesh was the only indication that the mercenary had complied. Bitters hurried his footsteps away.
The sound of small, hesitant steps approaching the bed was what finally forced Simmons to open his still sleep-lidded eyes. He came face-to-face with Junior peering at him, glancing over his shoulder fearfully at the closed door as if it might burst open at any second.
A new wave of nausea threatened to overtake Simmons and he wanted to do nothing more than curl in around himself and cry. He remembered everything and now things were beyond fucked up, but he knew they didn't have time for that. After all, Junior needed him to be the adult here.
"Hey, kiddo." Simmons greeted him rather lamely with what he hoped was only a slightly watery smile, "How did you get in here?"
Junior made some complicated hand motions that Simmons could only interpret as that he had slipped past the nurse-guards while they had been distracted by something.
He frowned, wondering just how long he had been asleep and when the sale would be happening. Not wanting to worry Junior though, he smiled again to reassure the boy, "Everything's going to be all right, Junior." The redhead told the silent child, "I'll get us out of this. Somehow."
And by us, he meant all of them. He thought of the baby in the nursery still, and knew where their first stop had to be. Junior smiled at him reassuringly too as Simmons stood up, the pair quickly making their way to the exit while holding hands for strength and encouragement.
Author's Notes: Simmons' adventures in babysitting will continue in the next chapter, along with all of the various rescue operations that are now underway! You guys, we seriously only have a couple more updates to go before the ending of this story-verse! I'm both oddly sad yet definitely excited that we've reached this point! Here's to hoping that Grif and Simmons, along with everybody else, gets that happy ending they so deserve in this tale after all the stuff I keep putting them through. XD
I apologize if anything about this update seems a bit wonky as I've been suffering from a rather nasty lack of sleep recently, but I shall persevere. Two more Grimmons prequels to go along with the last couple of chapters for When We Were Soldiers, and I will have hit the first of my NaNoWriMo goals! So exciting! :D
Thank you so much, as always, for sticking with me and reading! You have no idea how much it means to me. :)