Red vs Blue: Enough Part II
Title: Enough Part II
Series: Red vs Blue
Pairings: Grif/Simmons
Warnings: Slash, Language
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 1,056
As always, thanks to jack_infinitude for her general awesomeness.
Part I
Simmons reached for a handful of pebbles and threw them one by one. He had been sitting outside the Red base for several hours, even since he had walked out of the kitchen when talking to Grif.
It was, as usual, unbearably hot. Sarge would never admit being bothered by the extreme heat, Donut was constantly trying to find the positive aspect of it (and if Simmons never saw another bottle of baby oil in his life, it would be too soon), while Grif complained about it. Constantly.
Simmons liked the heat, though. He was never cold. And that was good, because being cold made him think of Sidewinder and nothing good could come from that. Sarge had helped him understand that.
So why he had he mentioned it to Grif?
He scooped up another handful of pebbles and threw them as hard as he could.
Sidewinder was, without a doubt, the lowest point of his life. At point, in that prison cell, he had accepted he was going to die. He had wanted to die. His only fear was that, in the midst of the pain and intimidation, he might give away information that would cause other Red soldiers to die and the world to brand Dick Simmons as a traitor.
Then Sarge came.
Sometimes, Simmons thought that if he could just make Grif understand exactly what Sarge had done, his teammate would at least respect Simmons's devotion to their CO. He remembered lying in the cell, half-conscious and in pain, and suddenly seeing a flash of red. Sarge had carried Simmons out of the cell and, though most of it was pretty fuzzy, Simmons remembered Sarge saying, "Good job, soldier." And, more importantly, through the pain and humiliation, Simmons remembered the note of admiration in the older man's voice.
In the course of his recovery, Simmons discovered that Sarge had learned that the Blues were holding a Red soldier in Sidewinder and that the Red Army had decided that a rescue operation would endanger too many other soldiers and, since the private lacked any knowledge of sensitive material, Command had decided to abandon him. Sarge had agreed to go in alone, with no backup and the knowledge that the Red Army would not attempt a rescue if he were caught.
How could Simmons not respect the man?
Sarge had gone one step further, though. After Simmons had been released from the hospital, he had taken steps to get the private assigned to his command. Sarge hadn't held his hand and the one time Simmons had tried to discuss the ordeal, Sarge had awkwardly offered to find someone for Simmons to talk to, and then changed the subject. Still, he had helped Simmons recover. Sarge had given him a purpose and ways to keep busy...and keeping busy was almost as good as forgetting. Sometimes.
He couldn't forget, though, and it affected almost every aspect of his life, though he did everything in his power to hide it. Most of the time, he succeeded. And some things had even improved. Even when they had first met, Grif had little respect for personal space and, while he never actually touched Simmons, the other man somehow managed fill up every space he was in. Gradually, the tension had faded enough that Simmons barely noticed Grif's proximity any more.
Which brought him back to the question of why he had revealed anything to Grif. Simmons hadn't planned on keeping it a secret forever. Someday, Simmons would meet someone, a female someone, who would listen to the details of his ordeal and offer him comfort. And when that happened, he could put it all behind him.
So, once again, why Grif? He wanted to believe that it had somehow slipped out while he was defending Sarge and, with enough rationalization, he might even make himself believe it. But now, he had to admit that he could have easily defended Sarge without bringing up his experiences in Sidewinder. And he had kept it secret for years, so it would hardly slip out accidentally at this point.
That left a very disturbing answer: he had wanted to tell Grif. In the middle of that fight, Grif had looked concerned. And part of Simmons needed someone to be concerned, to listen to his story. Or so he thought.
Once the words were out, Simmons felt colder than he'd ever been in his life. Grif wasn't an enemy, but was he a friend? Would he betray Simmons's trust? Could Simmons deal with it if he did? And what would Sarge say?
So, in the end, he had just walked out and spent several hours outside the base, trying to figure out the best way of handling the situation; but he was too confused to think.
He jumped as he heard a sound behind him.
"Sorry," Grif said, hesitating briefly and then sitting down directly beside Simmons.
That was reassuring. Even if he had hesitated, Grif was still trying to treat him normally.
"Don't worry about it," Simmons muttered, unable to bring himself to look at his teammate.
"Yeah, well..." Grif trailed off and they were both silent for a long time. "I've been thinking about what you said and I can't.... I don't know what to say,"
Simmons shrugged, reaching for another handful of pebbles. "Don't worry about it."
"Are you okay?" Grif asked.
"Yeah."
"Is it something you want to talk about?"
"No."
Another long silence. "Okay. Do you want me to leave?"
He shrugged again. It was impossible to figure out what he wanted from Grif now, or what he wanted for anyone.
"Then I'll sit here for a while," Grif decided, grabbing his own handful of pebbles. "Are you aiming at anything?"
Simmons shook his head. "Nothing to aim at."
"Oh, right. I hate this fucking place," Grif muttered, throwing his own rock and smirking when it went further than Simmons's rocks.
Another long silence, interrupted only by sound of the pebbles hitting the ground.
"Look, man, for what it's worth, I'm sorry," Grif finally said.
Simmons looked at his teammate for the first time. "For what?"
Grif shrugged. "I don't know. For all the things I should apologize for?"
Simmons said nothing.
Two words. I'm sorry. It wasn't a lot, not in light of everything.
But somehow, it was enough.
Series: Red vs Blue
Pairings: Grif/Simmons
Warnings: Slash, Language
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 1,056
As always, thanks to jack_infinitude for her general awesomeness.
Part I
Simmons reached for a handful of pebbles and threw them one by one. He had been sitting outside the Red base for several hours, even since he had walked out of the kitchen when talking to Grif.
It was, as usual, unbearably hot. Sarge would never admit being bothered by the extreme heat, Donut was constantly trying to find the positive aspect of it (and if Simmons never saw another bottle of baby oil in his life, it would be too soon), while Grif complained about it. Constantly.
Simmons liked the heat, though. He was never cold. And that was good, because being cold made him think of Sidewinder and nothing good could come from that. Sarge had helped him understand that.
So why he had he mentioned it to Grif?
He scooped up another handful of pebbles and threw them as hard as he could.
Sidewinder was, without a doubt, the lowest point of his life. At point, in that prison cell, he had accepted he was going to die. He had wanted to die. His only fear was that, in the midst of the pain and intimidation, he might give away information that would cause other Red soldiers to die and the world to brand Dick Simmons as a traitor.
Then Sarge came.
Sometimes, Simmons thought that if he could just make Grif understand exactly what Sarge had done, his teammate would at least respect Simmons's devotion to their CO. He remembered lying in the cell, half-conscious and in pain, and suddenly seeing a flash of red. Sarge had carried Simmons out of the cell and, though most of it was pretty fuzzy, Simmons remembered Sarge saying, "Good job, soldier." And, more importantly, through the pain and humiliation, Simmons remembered the note of admiration in the older man's voice.
In the course of his recovery, Simmons discovered that Sarge had learned that the Blues were holding a Red soldier in Sidewinder and that the Red Army had decided that a rescue operation would endanger too many other soldiers and, since the private lacked any knowledge of sensitive material, Command had decided to abandon him. Sarge had agreed to go in alone, with no backup and the knowledge that the Red Army would not attempt a rescue if he were caught.
How could Simmons not respect the man?
Sarge had gone one step further, though. After Simmons had been released from the hospital, he had taken steps to get the private assigned to his command. Sarge hadn't held his hand and the one time Simmons had tried to discuss the ordeal, Sarge had awkwardly offered to find someone for Simmons to talk to, and then changed the subject. Still, he had helped Simmons recover. Sarge had given him a purpose and ways to keep busy...and keeping busy was almost as good as forgetting. Sometimes.
He couldn't forget, though, and it affected almost every aspect of his life, though he did everything in his power to hide it. Most of the time, he succeeded. And some things had even improved. Even when they had first met, Grif had little respect for personal space and, while he never actually touched Simmons, the other man somehow managed fill up every space he was in. Gradually, the tension had faded enough that Simmons barely noticed Grif's proximity any more.
Which brought him back to the question of why he had revealed anything to Grif. Simmons hadn't planned on keeping it a secret forever. Someday, Simmons would meet someone, a female someone, who would listen to the details of his ordeal and offer him comfort. And when that happened, he could put it all behind him.
So, once again, why Grif? He wanted to believe that it had somehow slipped out while he was defending Sarge and, with enough rationalization, he might even make himself believe it. But now, he had to admit that he could have easily defended Sarge without bringing up his experiences in Sidewinder. And he had kept it secret for years, so it would hardly slip out accidentally at this point.
That left a very disturbing answer: he had wanted to tell Grif. In the middle of that fight, Grif had looked concerned. And part of Simmons needed someone to be concerned, to listen to his story. Or so he thought.
Once the words were out, Simmons felt colder than he'd ever been in his life. Grif wasn't an enemy, but was he a friend? Would he betray Simmons's trust? Could Simmons deal with it if he did? And what would Sarge say?
So, in the end, he had just walked out and spent several hours outside the base, trying to figure out the best way of handling the situation; but he was too confused to think.
He jumped as he heard a sound behind him.
"Sorry," Grif said, hesitating briefly and then sitting down directly beside Simmons.
That was reassuring. Even if he had hesitated, Grif was still trying to treat him normally.
"Don't worry about it," Simmons muttered, unable to bring himself to look at his teammate.
"Yeah, well..." Grif trailed off and they were both silent for a long time. "I've been thinking about what you said and I can't.... I don't know what to say,"
Simmons shrugged, reaching for another handful of pebbles. "Don't worry about it."
"Are you okay?" Grif asked.
"Yeah."
"Is it something you want to talk about?"
"No."
Another long silence. "Okay. Do you want me to leave?"
He shrugged again. It was impossible to figure out what he wanted from Grif now, or what he wanted for anyone.
"Then I'll sit here for a while," Grif decided, grabbing his own handful of pebbles. "Are you aiming at anything?"
Simmons shook his head. "Nothing to aim at."
"Oh, right. I hate this fucking place," Grif muttered, throwing his own rock and smirking when it went further than Simmons's rocks.
Another long silence, interrupted only by sound of the pebbles hitting the ground.
"Look, man, for what it's worth, I'm sorry," Grif finally said.
Simmons looked at his teammate for the first time. "For what?"
Grif shrugged. "I don't know. For all the things I should apologize for?"
Simmons said nothing.
Two words. I'm sorry. It wasn't a lot, not in light of everything.
But somehow, it was enough.