Being vulnerable was hard for you. Trusting was hard for you. You never really felt like you were part of the team, so your dad dying was especially isolating. (©TRS0125CAI)

You couldn't really explain why, but ever since the funeral, you had found yourself hiding out in the quinjet when it wasn't in use. The empty hangar was peaceful, and the shadows surrounded you like they were embracing you in your grief.

"There you are, Little Steele." Griffin's voice drew your gaze up from the tear-smudged pages of your book. "Go away..." you sniffled, wiping the tears off your cheeks. The last thing you wanted was for the bionic staring machine to pity you.

"You don't have to be alone..." Griffin said, sympathy in his eyes. "I said, 'go away'!" you shouted, throwing your book at him in a burst of anger. He took a step back, his hands raised in a sign of surrender. Your anger turned to panic when he turned to leave you alone.

"Wait!" you gasped, sitting forward in your seat. Griffin turned back toward you, seeing the fear of more loss in your eyes. "Look... you may be a total @ss half the time... but... I need you." you sniffled. He walked over to you and dropped down into the jumpseat next to yours, sitting silently beside you for a moment.

"Whatever you need." he finally murmured. "Whatever I need?" you repeated, almost unsure if you had heard him correctly. Griffin nodded, looking at you with complete sincerity. "I'm always here for you, doll."