He'd caught Jensen in the hallway, somewhere on her trip to deliver what was apparently... dogtags...? The look on her face was something awful, something that actually scared him for a minute, so he stopped her out of concern. Got the story, or at least as much of it as he could before her voice started frazzling.
He understood the gist of it, and promised to keep her company.
She was a little proud of herself for almost keeping it totally together when she stepped into that room. When she saw Captain Grif looking like that and General Kimball talking to him but she'd managed.
She hadn't broken down and made it even worse than it already was and she even manages to leave the room on steady feet.
Until she finds him waiting there for her and then she just crumples her fingers curling in his shirt as soon as it's in reach, Katie all but clinging to him.
He's impressed too, really. She looks pretty devastated, but she's walking calmly, head up, without a flood of tears tracking down her face. He opens his mouth to say something about that- a second too soon, because he suddenly finds his arms full of a crumbling Jensen.
Immediately, he hugs on to her, keeping her upright by holding her against himself. He frowns, bending his head down far enough to sigh in to her hair gently. "I'm sorry, Katie." He had been her captain, after all.
He knew Simmons had been hurt, but hadn't realized he was that bad off.
And she's honestly not even able to speak because her shoulders are shaking as she's crying into his chest but she finally manages to find her voice, to breathe, even if her breath is hitching.
"...He's gone." Her lisp is even more prominent this time and then she's coughing, trying to get air before she wipes at her eyes.
"Captain Grif's face...he was...I've never seen him look like that..."
Those damn braces are going to be the death of her one day. They'll have to take care of that, some time. Whenever society gets rebuilt. "Stop, catch your breath," he scolds gently.
He can only hope Captain Grif is taking it better than Jensen is, but from the sound of things, maybe not. "They've been on the same team for... forever." That's how the stories go, right? "Of course he's going to be upset too, but he'll be all right. The Reds and Blues, they're strong people." Loss happens. A lot of it, in this case, but they've been through tough situations before. They all have.
He doesn't know the extent of it in this case, though.
"No, he's...Captain Simmons had a ring on his dogtags." Jensen's voice was quieter but it kept hitching, even if it was less frequently.
"Dr Grey told me to make sure Captain Grif got it, and they were together when Captain Simmons passed. We weren't allowed in because General Kimball and Dr Grey wanted to give them time."
"A ring?" Puzzled, he looks down at her. Her face is a flushed mess, he notes idly, and he reaches up to swipe the tears from her cheeks while they continue to talk.
He doesn't see what a ring has to do with...
He pauses.
Understanding flashes across his face, quickly followed by even more confusion. "What? They...?" ...Really...?
That's... not a couple he would've spotted on his own. They didn't act very affectionate towards each other. Forget that, he's not even sure if he'd ever seen them being nice to each other.
Sure does change the situation. "Maybe he's just in shock, it might take a few days to pass."
Hooking an arm around hers, he begins to walk- leading her away from the door. Somewhere private would be better for this. Someplace he can sit her down and she can cry it out in full if she needs to. "You think he'll be okay?"
"I don't know, but it's not... He doesn't have anyone, John." His name slips out and she's leaning against him as they walk, her fingers rubbing at her eyes because crying isn't going to help anything.
"I mean, he lost his whole team, and you know how they were. It's not..." Katie shook her head.
"Maybe we can talk to the General? She's been spending time with him, she might have advice." She's obviously busy right now, so that'll have to wait, but he turns forward again and begins walking once more. He's got a new plan for them, until they get a chance to talk to Kimball. "Come on, we should at least tell Bitters."
Bitters is sort of full of himself and puts on a ton of doesnt-give-a-shit airs, but he has a feeling this is something he might care about at least a little.
The morning routine is always the same, even if the meals vary from day to day and Jensen is actually not the worst in the kitchen.
Some of the time. Usually she just makes sure everything is out and ready for John when he comes in at six though. And then it's time to set the tables.
Which thankfully use paper and plastic since she has a tendency to drop things.
John usually wakes the residents up since they tend to react better, or at least Sarge does, Caboose wouldn't really mind either of them and by time 9 a.m. rolls around, they've defused more than a few crises.
Which is when Dr. Grey comes in to handle therapy and her daily appointments, leaving them time to change the beds and get the laundry downstairs.
Pandemonium before 9am? He can handle that. He seems to thrive on the extra work, oddly enough, and by the time bed-turning rolls around, he's still in fairly high spirits.
He steps out of one of the rooms, arms full of sheets, flashing a quick smile at Katie as soon as he drops them in the trolley. "Done."
Maybe he'll burn out some day, but that day is definitely not today.
"They're going to be busy for a while with the doctor, so want to come down and help me in the laundry?" It's kind of their routine, but she still asks, every time.
"I'm happy to help." As always, he never says no. Not unless there's some minor emergency that requires his attention upstairs, like a resident or a cleanup or something, but that's a given.
He escorts her and the dirty laundry down to the facilities, which he finds... not in disarray, and it's not like there are wet sheets or towels sitting abandoned in the machines or anything, but it hasn't all been finished like usual.
He lingers, kind of awkwardly, instead of taking a seat. "Do you want me to do something specific? I don't mind, I know how to do laundry. I even do my own sometimes." Har, har.
"I'm almost done." She puts the last of the load into one of the machines before turning it on and then moves to lever herself up onto one of the dryers.
"They were asleep on the couch when I came in this morning."
That's a good place place for her. He likes that dryer-turned-seat deal, not because he gets to sit in it, but because he can move in, lean against the dryer, and place his arms on either side of Katie's legs, bracketing her in. They fit pretty well together like that, if he says so himself.
He ends up in his favorite spot, of course, fitting right in like a puzzle piece, but his face is one of pure concern rather than anything mischievous. "Was everything okay?"
"I think they just had a rough night." She likes it because it puts them at more even level when she's talking to him, and her hands slide over his in a light touch.
A brow arches. "And you didn't break your face from grinning as hard as I'm sure you were?" He fights to keep a straight face, himself. She sees them both a lot more than he does, so he can't really say or suspect much about them, but he's heard a few comments from her every now and then. Enough to know that she apparently thinks they're cute together.
Okay, now he can't help it. Now he's grinning. "I think he's just kind of shy," he states, reaching for her face. He grasps her chin gently, using his thumb to tug her lip out from between her teeth. None of that. "He's always been sort of private, you know?"
"Really, really private, but he's not...I mean, it's nothing to be ashamed of." She lets him stop her chewing on her lips and then edges herself closer to him on the dryer.
"I mean, I guess I can kind of understand, but we're all friends here..."
Smith hums thoughtfully, running the pad of his thumb across her lip one more time, just because he can. "I don't think he's ashamed or is keeping secrets because he doesn't like us, I think he's just..."
He shakes his head, at a loss for how to explain it.
She should stop smiling like that, it's pretty infectious. Or maybe the kiss was to blame. Either way, he's grinning like a fool. "Exactly."
She leans back and he leans in, chasing her. His arms drop, wrapping around her hips snugly. "I'm a good talker, I think I deserve another one of those."
"You think so?" She's not resisting though, her hands sliding up his arms to his shoulders, but he gets another quick brush of lips to the other corner of his mouth.
"Like what?" He purposely makes himself sound confused, and turns his head away just a fraction so he can make a show of looking around. "Is there a breeze in here?"
There's a brief choked laugh before she catches his chin in her hand and then turns him back to her face her before planting a very light and brief kiss on his lips.
He laughs quietly, then. Got her. "Okay, you promised," he says as he leans in, almost there- and that's when it happens.
Grif's voice sounds awfully loud in the room. "What the hell is going on in here?" He's standing in the doorway, arms spread in a stance that practically screams what the fuck, guys? "Really? In my office?!"
This isn't an office, Grif.
Still, it startles Smith pretty badly and he scrambles backwards, away from the dryer and Jensen so quickly that one would have thought they'd both burned him.
"We were talking and waiting for the laundry to finish so I could put it in the dryer, Mr. Grif." She slips off to her feet just as the washing machine beeps it's done.
"The residents were busy with Dr. Grey so John was just keeping me company down here." And okay maybe a kiss or two, but nothing bad.
Nuh uh. Grif knows every line in the book, and he shoots back, "Talking, huh? I didn't know face-sucking was a considered a dialect of English." Okay, he's not even mad, because it's true. They weren't doing anything bad or super inappropriate (...this time...?), but Grif does so enjoy giving others a hard time.
John stammers out an apology as Grif walks further in to the room. He doesn't usually find himself embarrassed, but there's something about being caught by surprise that's a little mortifying. Smith glances over at Katie with an exaggerated cringe that almost immediately ends up turning in to a sheepish smile. Oops.
"You should be nicer to John, Mr. Grif, he's very good with Caboose, and if he wasn't here, Ms. Kimball might have to reassign you." Katie is just eyeing Grif now.
"He's just messing with you. Come on and let's finish this laundry, though."
"I'm nice!" That is... also sort of true. Nice by Grif Standards. "But just because I'm nice, it doesn't mean I won't get the hose after you two." That's what he needs in here, a hose. For situations like this.
John finds his voice again, too, addressing Grif as he steps back over to Katie so he can assist her. "I'm sorry, really, but I swear your dryer's honor is still safe." There's a pause there, and he gets an idea. He's going to do it. He's totally gonna do it, and he can only pray that Katie doesn't get mad at him for it, but Grif deserves a taste of his own medicine. "The washer, though..."
Grif doesn't expect that sort of sass from Smith, of all people, so when he turns back around to face them with a basket in his arms, his jaw drops. He stares at them, stunned and frozen exactly like that for a moment, before flatly commenting, "I swear to fucking god." Well played, Smith and Jensen. Well played...
"Maybe." She's still leaning into him, still not all there yet because Simmons was her captain and Grif had looked so lost in there and there had to be something they could do.
But for the life of her she couldn't come up with any sort of idea, her hand curling around his.
Smith holds his poker face about as well as Jensen does. Almost immediately, he's smiling and apologizing, insisting, "I was kidding, really!"
Grif has hit his limit with them, though. Their powers combined are too damn much and two against one is absolutely not fair, so he drops his basket again, freeing up his arms so he can wave the both of them out. "Nope. Both of you get out, your laundry room privileges are suspended for the day."
Smith settles his hands on Katie's shoulders, steering her towards the door from behind as Grif herds them out.
And just so neither of them feels bad about ditching, Grif makes sure to add, "I got the rest of this, seriously. It's not even going to take long."
"We should probably get back to work anyway, until the kids show up." Kids being Leon and Tucker, and she lets John maneuver her out and back up the stairs.
"How does pizza sound tonight?" Because lol, cooking what's that?
"Yeah, probably." His hands stay right where they are even after they're out of the laundry room and marching up the stairs, fingers drumming against her shoulders idly while they walk.
"That sounds fine to me. Anchovies and pineapple, right?" God, no.
He's got weird taste sometimes, but surely this one isn't serious...
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bad end cont
He understood the gist of it, and promised to keep her company.
He's there now, waiting outside for her.
Re: bad end cont
She hadn't broken down and made it even worse than it already was and she even manages to leave the room on steady feet.
Until she finds him waiting there for her and then she just crumples her fingers curling in his shirt as soon as it's in reach, Katie all but clinging to him.
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He's impressed too, really. She looks pretty devastated, but she's walking calmly, head up, without a flood of tears tracking down her face. He opens his mouth to say something about that- a second too soon, because he suddenly finds his arms full of a crumbling Jensen.
Immediately, he hugs on to her, keeping her upright by holding her against himself. He frowns, bending his head down far enough to sigh in to her hair gently. "I'm sorry, Katie." He had been her captain, after all.
He knew Simmons had been hurt, but hadn't realized he was that bad off.
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"...He's gone." Her lisp is even more prominent this time and then she's coughing, trying to get air before she wipes at her eyes.
"Captain Grif's face...he was...I've never seen him look like that..."
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He can only hope Captain Grif is taking it better than Jensen is, but from the sound of things, maybe not. "They've been on the same team for... forever." That's how the stories go, right? "Of course he's going to be upset too, but he'll be all right. The Reds and Blues, they're strong people." Loss happens. A lot of it, in this case, but they've been through tough situations before. They all have.
He doesn't know the extent of it in this case, though.
"Are you going to be okay?"
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"Dr Grey told me to make sure Captain Grif got it, and they were together when Captain Simmons passed. We weren't allowed in because General Kimball and Dr Grey wanted to give them time."
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He doesn't see what a ring has to do with...
He pauses.
Understanding flashes across his face, quickly followed by even more confusion. "What? They...?" ...Really...?
No, really?
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"I don't know what he's going to do."
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Sure does change the situation. "Maybe he's just in shock, it might take a few days to pass."
Hooking an arm around hers, he begins to walk- leading her away from the door. Somewhere private would be better for this. Someplace he can sit her down and she can cry it out in full if she needs to. "You think he'll be okay?"
If Kimball's with him, he should be.
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"I mean, he lost his whole team, and you know how they were. It's not..." Katie shook her head.
"There has to be something we can do for him."
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She has a point.
Grif's still got the Blues, and he's still got all of them here, but it's not the same, is it?
His expression falls in to something somber and thoughtful. What can they do, though? "Like what?"
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"I mean, we can't bring him back...I just..."
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Bitters is sort of full of himself and puts on a ton of doesnt-give-a-shit airs, but he has a feeling this is something he might care about at least a little.
Vet center
Some of the time. Usually she just makes sure everything is out and ready for John when he comes in at six though. And then it's time to set the tables.
Which thankfully use paper and plastic since she has a tendency to drop things.
John usually wakes the residents up since they tend to react better, or at least Sarge does, Caboose wouldn't really mind either of them and by time 9 a.m. rolls around, they've defused more than a few crises.
Which is when Dr. Grey comes in to handle therapy and her daily appointments, leaving them time to change the beds and get the laundry downstairs.
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He steps out of one of the rooms, arms full of sheets, flashing a quick smile at Katie as soon as he drops them in the trolley. "Done."
Maybe he'll burn out some day, but that day is definitely not today.
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He escorts her and the dirty laundry down to the facilities, which he finds... not in disarray, and it's not like there are wet sheets or towels sitting abandoned in the machines or anything, but it hasn't all been finished like usual.
"Huh..." Weird.
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"Guess you can just sit for a bit then."
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"They were asleep on the couch when I came in this morning."
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He ends up in his favorite spot, of course, fitting right in like a puzzle piece, but his face is one of pure concern rather than anything mischievous. "Was everything okay?"
Bleeding heart.
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"They were curled up together though."
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Now they're just encouraging her.
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"I think I upset Mr. Simmons, though," chewing on her lower lip. "but Mr. Grif didn't seem to mind."
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"I mean, I guess I can kind of understand, but we're all friends here..."
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He shakes his head, at a loss for how to explain it.
He's just. Simmons.
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"I know, he's just really...private, like you said." settling back in her seat.
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She leans back and he leans in, chasing her. His arms drop, wrapping around her hips snugly. "I'm a good talker, I think I deserve another one of those."
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"Like that?"
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Shots fired.
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"Better?"
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If he makes himself look pitiful enough, maybe he can get her to feel sorry for him.
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Really.
At least not in a mean way, which makes it better right? Right?
"Okay, okay, come here and I'll make it better."
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Grif's voice sounds awfully loud in the room. "What the hell is going on in here?" He's standing in the doorway, arms spread in a stance that practically screams what the fuck, guys? "Really? In my office?!"
This isn't an office, Grif.
Still, it startles Smith pretty badly and he scrambles backwards, away from the dryer and Jensen so quickly that one would have thought they'd both burned him.
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"The residents were busy with Dr. Grey so John was just keeping me company down here." And okay maybe a kiss or two, but nothing bad.
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John stammers out an apology as Grif walks further in to the room. He doesn't usually find himself embarrassed, but there's something about being caught by surprise that's a little mortifying. Smith glances over at Katie with an exaggerated cringe that almost immediately ends up turning in to a sheepish smile. Oops.
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"He's just messing with you. Come on and let's finish this laundry, though."
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John finds his voice again, too, addressing Grif as he steps back over to Katie so he can assist her. "I'm sorry, really, but I swear your dryer's honor is still safe." There's a pause there, and he gets an idea. He's going to do it. He's totally gonna do it, and he can only pray that Katie doesn't get mad at him for it, but Grif deserves a taste of his own medicine. "The washer, though..."
Grif doesn't expect that sort of sass from Smith, of all people, so when he turns back around to face them with a basket in his arms, his jaw drops. He stares at them, stunned and frozen exactly like that for a moment, before flatly commenting, "I swear to fucking god." Well played, Smith and Jensen. Well played...
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"Y-you..oh my God, your face."
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But for the life of her she couldn't come up with any sort of idea, her hand curling around his.
"...Yeah, we should."
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Grif has hit his limit with them, though. Their powers combined are too damn much and two against one is absolutely not fair, so he drops his basket again, freeing up his arms so he can wave the both of them out. "Nope. Both of you get out, your laundry room privileges are suspended for the day."
Smith settles his hands on Katie's shoulders, steering her towards the door from behind as Grif herds them out.
And just so neither of them feels bad about ditching, Grif makes sure to add, "I got the rest of this, seriously. It's not even going to take long."
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"How does pizza sound tonight?" Because lol, cooking what's that?
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"That sounds fine to me. Anchovies and pineapple, right?" God, no.
He's got weird taste sometimes, but surely this one isn't serious...
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"Mm on one of them anyway if that's what you want to try."