Chapter Text
Part I
Sometimes Red base was quiet; quieter than could ever be believed. Those rare times that the base was quiet only occurred on the days that it was empty. Today, the base housed only one person; Grif. He sat alone at the kitchen table, swirling a straw around a glass of chocolate milk with a dazed expression on his face. He was silent; he sat listening to his breathing, conscious of the fact that those lungs expanding and deflating in his chest belonged—or use to—to Simmons. Grif was conscious of the fact that a lot of his body was once part of Simmons; so conscious of the scars where flesh melded, conscious of the differing skin pigmentation, conscious that he wasn’t... fully Grif. He sighed, shifting in his seat in restlessness until he gave up. Standing, Grif stretched and flexed, cracking his back. He made his way outside.
Grif stood, eyes adjusting to the sudden bright light that stung his eyes. He frowned, nodding his head in a lethargic manner before making his slow way up to the roof of the base. He was armour-less, but that fact didn’t faze him. He hummed low in his chest; a single content sound as he lowered himself to the ground. The base was... good empty. Grif enjoyed the rare solitude; being around three other people for such an extended period of time in such a confined area could drive the best of us crazy—and he was no exception. They left a day ago to “scout” the blue base, all three of them. Grif was happy they left him behind, he could finally catch up on the sleep Simmons’ whirring insides liked to keep him from. The sun brought colour to his cheeks, bleached his copper hair and reminded him of home.
Grif smiled, closing his heavy eyes, hands behind his head, and fell asleep in the warm sun.