Ficlet: Sunstreaker and Rung
Muse jumped on me and made me write today.
I suspect it was because I read the MTMTE #6 preview.
Also it was a chance to test out my new keyboard I bought for my ipad, which works better than my fucked up laptop one.
My head did a full dialogue with Rung and Sunstreaker and i realised I NEEDED to write it, so I did.
Title: Fresh Paint
WordCount: 4930
Verse: IDW- MTMTE and other ongoing and AHM continuities. (which I may have remembered incorrectly so sorry for non-canon inconsistency)
Rating: PG
Warnings: Angst, spoilers for the comics. You won't understand a lot of it if you don't know what happened to Sunstreaker.
Summary: Rung runs into Sunstreaker on the 'Lost Light' And decides it's time he got him to talk.
(story under cut)
"Stop!...Heel! Agh, I need that! Bring it back!"
Rung ran after the insecticon, since he was faster at a stride down the corridors of the 'Lost Light' than he was in his alt mode. Mostly because he would topple taking corners too fast, one of the curses of being a tri-wheel vehicle rather than the standard quad.
The insecticon made no move to slow, bounding down the corridors of the habitation suites, further and further into an area Rung had not visited. It was mostly storage rooms, so far as the schematic he had told him.
His pistons hissing loudly in protest, not used to having to work that rapidly for so long, he forced himself to continue.
That wasn't any old stylus after all. It was the one he'd received on graduation from the academy. it wouldn't even mean a great deal to him just from that except it had been given specifically to him by his single most admired role-model.
Expatiator, the greatest psychologist and psychiatrist Cybertron had ever seen (at least Rung thought so), had given him THAT stylus, and told him to 'Go out there and repair what the medics can't'.
That stylus was a symbol of his life's work, trying to live up to the task Expatiator had set him.
He was not about to let a pet insecticon steal it and use it as a chew toy.
So focused on pushing himself to break his frame's protests at such unusually vigorous use, he took another corner and ran headlong into something that did not give way, sending him sprawling across the deck on his aft rather spectacularly.
"Watch it." Was the gruff reply of the thing he'd run into, which was the only clue that told him it was a mech and not a wall.
A golden wall.
"Oh... Sunstreaker? I'm terribly sorry, I was... chasing your pet actually."
The psychiatrist looked up at the dour frontliner, trying not to stare.
It wasn't the first time they had met. But as with any time, and much like many other mechs, Rung found it difficult not to stare.
After all, Sunstreaker's narcissistic tendencies were not baseless.
It took the psychiatrist a moment to realise Sunstreaker, frowning as if slightly annoyed, was offering him a servo up.
He scrambled to accept, slightly embarrassed, but quickly recovered himself.
"I don't mean to trouble you, but your... insecticon has stolen something of mine I rather value-"
"Bob. Drop it."
The insecticon gave his master a mechanical whine and a tilt of his head.
The golden mech repeated his command with a tone that bore no argument and Bob finally relinquished, dropping the stylus into his master's outstretched servo.
"Ah, thankyou. I'm a little curious as to why he took it, is this a habit of his?"
Sunstreaker seemed to consider him a moment, expression unchanged, and turned to walk in the opposite direction as he answered.
"No. I sent him to look for things. I didn't mean for him to take things that belonged to other bots."
Curiosity found Rung following the frontliner without really consciously deciding to do so.
He had actually been meaning for some time to speak with Sunstreaker, but he'd hoped the mech would come to him of his own volition.
Part of him knew it had been too much to hope for really.
"What are you doing down here? I thought perhaps you'd be keeping company with the others in Swerve's distillery."
The frontliner gave a half shrug, his insecticon pet, 'Bob', trotting happily along beside him.
"Not really my kind of crowd I guess."
"I suppose it's the crowd part that puts you off the most?" Rung said neutrally.
"No." Flat, non-commital answer. At least it was an answer.
"So have you chosen a habitation suite yet?" A change of topic should get him talking a little better. He'd done an assessment on Sunstreaker and Sideswipe before. The golden twin was touted as the strong silent type by most of his peers, but in truth he was very talkative, assuming the conversation was intelligent and of interest to him.
"Sort of. It's not really a habitation suite. No one else was going to use it though."
There was a beat of silence as Rung caught up to the larger mech's sedate strides.
He knew the other mech was not walking slowly to let him keep up, but rather to stall their arrival at wherever Sunstreaker was headed.
"Look, I don't need shrinking, so i don't know why you're following me."
"On the contrary Sunstreaker, your recent records tell me otherwise. I'm not here to 'shrink' you, I just want to talk. Or more, I want you to talk, since i know that is not something you are inclined to do. What you are inclined to is-"
"Don't pretend to know me." The golden mech snarled, Bob mirroring the sound out of instinct.
Rung continued in a calm tone that was intended to be as non-provocative as possible.
"-you tend to bottle things up when you don't have another mech you feel comfortable talking to. And since neither your brother, nor Ironhide are here, and i haven't seen you taking any sort of liking to any of the other crew members-"
"Wrong again." Sunstreaker growled.
"Tell me how I am wrong. I do not wish to be right on this." Rung responded softly.
the frontliner stopped in his tracks suddenly, ex-venting in aggravation, Bob plopping down on his aft and looking between the two mechs with bemused confusion.
"It's not that I don't like any of them. They don't like ME. They have no reason to. Not after what I did."
"On Earth?" Rung asked without any bias in his tone, but he could see the dark blue optics cycling tightly.
Just the name of the planet had a negative effect.
Rung knew just from that he could not leave Sunstreaker untreated. It would go against every code he lived by.
Sunstreaker began walking again, stiff and clearly unwilling to touch the subject.
Rung didn't press. He knew he didn't have to. He just needed to wait a moment...
"You don't even know slag about Earth."
He knew enough about the golden mech to know he couldn't keep it to himself when there was a willing outlet like him around.
"I have reviewed every file of every mech on this ship and what happened on that planet to those who were there."
"Oh yeah? And what the slag would any of the records say about what happened to me? I'm sure there's a fully detailed report on how I betrayed the Autobot cause." He spat violently, Bob making a small whining noise, clearly not sure why his master was angry.
"Actually, Jazz made rather a large effort to retrieve any and all information regarding what the Humans did to you."
"Oh did he now? Pity he didn't expend the same effort to actually find me when it was happening." He snarled.
Stealing a sideways glance, Rung could see the normally extremely handsome faceplate was screwed up with intense anger and unspoken rage.
But even as he watched, it drained to a much wearier look.
"But I guess they paid their dues with my mistake. I mean frag, what slagging idiot takes STARSCREAM at his word?"
A cold, bitter laugh with no mirth followed, and they fell into silence again for a while.
"So you believe the crew here does not want you around because you betrayed your comrades? Even the mechs who were not part of the same crew, or not part of the war altogether?"
"You know me so well, what do you think? I've never exactly been social. In fact, your initial assessment was something like 'sociopathic to the point of discouraging contact with any but the few he trusts'. Oh, and that gem about me being narcissistic to the point that I value the condition of my paint over the safety of other mechs in my unit."
"At the time, that WAS the case you know. Mechs do change. Especially in war." The psychologist offered in a sort of apology.
"You haven't." He flung back gruffly, but there was no sting to it.
"On the contrary, I feel I have, but perhaps not outwardly. The point is, so have you. As you have proven through many occasions of sacrifice."
The golden mech did not respond, staring straight ahead and schooling his faceplates to hide his emotions behind a gruff mask.
It was as Rung wondered where best to steer the conversation that he noticed his own paint scuffs on the floor.
"Are you leading me in circles?"
"Are you?" He quipped back dodgingly.
"Is there something you do not wish me to see?"
"No... maybe... I don't know. I kind of hoped you'd get bored and leave. Or take a hint."
Rung frowned sightly as his mind started piecing little clues together.
"Would this have anything to do with your pet-"
"Bob."
"...with Bob stealing my stylus?"
The golden mech seemed to debate internally over how much he should reveal before he gave a rather loud ex-vent.
"I've been sending Bob out to find me supplies."
"Supplies?"
"...Art supplies. I show him stuff I want, get him to sniff it, train him to find it and then he goes and looks. He probably thought your stylus was a carbon stick. It's made of a carbon rich alloy I guess."
Rung looked over his stylus, nodding. "Yes, i believe so. So you still make art then? May I see what you've been doing recently?"
Again the frontliner seemed to work through some inner turmoil before reluctantly nodding.
"Fine. But no shrinking it, fraggit. It's not meant to be something I show mechs. I'm only letting you see because you'll understand most of it."
Rung nodded and they headed down a different corridor, Bob moving to follow Rung now, sniffing curiously at the psychiatrists servos, trying to get the stylus out of his grip.
Rung subspaced it and cautiously scratched the insecticon on the helm.
He smiled slightly as Bob whirred and pressed into the contact, eager for more.
"So why did you choose to get a pet? Not that it is uncommon in isolated Cybertronians."
"We didn't 'choose', it just kinda happened."
Rung tilted his helm at that half-afted answer. "Oh? What was the purpose for it?"
"HIM. He's not an 'it'." Sunstreaker grumbled.
"Nono, you misunderstand me... I meant the act, the taking on of the task, catching, training... what made you think to do it?"
"Oh... I guess Ironhide really thought of it first. I mean, he was out there killing the bugs, he noticed things about them. He realised the loners were different to the rest of the swarm. They were smarter for one, he thinks that's why they were alone, they got kicked out of the swarms or they left because they couldn't assimilate with the way the other bugs acted."
"So Ironhide caught him for you?" Rung asked casually.
"Yea, he thought I needed... a companion I guess. Something to keep me occupied while I was stuck in that chair with only Trion the almighty ego for company." He smirked. "Plus he had some idea like Bob would be my extra protection since I couldn't really fight with my legs not working."
"So why 'Bob'? It's an oddly un-Cybertronian name."
"Better than Hunte-" Sunstreaker cut himself off with a bark of feedback as he realised what he'd let slip and looked away.
"That was the name of the human, yes? The one that helped you escape?"
"I'm not talking about it."
The frontliner's voice was colder than solidified nitrogen. But Rung was not about to steer away from what was clearly one of the heaviest emotional burdens weighing Sunstreaker down.
"You must face what happened to you at some stage. Both of you, together I mean."
"That'll be a bit hard since he's dead." The golden mech bit back.
"Not entirely."
For the second time, they stopped dead in the middle of the corridor, but the look Sunstreaker turned on Rung was so intense the psychologist nearly stepped back.
Instead he forced himself to hold his ground and counter with an open sort of calm that diffused Sunstreaker's anger.
"What do you mean 'not entirely'? What kind if slag is that?"
"You were bonded on a neuro-cynaptic level. That is what Ratchet's report states. Therefore you shared, for a small while, one mind. You were both separate identities yes, but parts of you... leaked into one another. If Ratchet had not separated you soon enough, the 'leak' would have continued until you both became a new, melded identity. One lifeform in two bodies. Two brains. He may be dead, but parts of his mind remained imprinted into yours."
Sunstreaker's optics remained cold, hard, cycling tightly, searching Rung's for a lie he wished was there.
"Why didn't Ratchet tell me this?"
"You'll have to ask him that. But I suspect he meant to, and simply didn't want to have to broach the subject unless it became necessary. To be fair, you are not exactly open to discussing the topic."
"Damn slagging right I'm not." He growled, turning to walk again, moving to a door a little way ahead of them and punching his code into the door angrily.
"How eager would you be to discuss the fact one of those filthy organic primitives had been inside you? Had seen everything about you, every secret laid bare, no thought your own. How would you like it if you had to bind yourself to one of the species that tore you into pieces and let you suffer like you were in the seven smelts of the pit?
I asked him to kill me. Even he wouldn't grant me that mercy."
The door opened and Bob bounded in, Sunstreaker stomping in after and not waiting for Rung.
"Mechs liked that stupid meatbag. He had friends. They mourned him. They hated me for not mourning him. You know what the worst part is?"
He turned to face the psychiatrist, who's optics had never left him.
"The worst part is I DID feel bad. And I didn't know WHY. I didn't want to care. I didn't even like the kid. I was glad to be rid of him except that i never WILL be... Ratchet didn't tell me about any... neuro-linko slag, but that doesn't mean i couldn't still feel bits of him in my head. I thought... I thought i must be going nuts at one stage. I HATE Earth. Hate everything on it, every stinkin' thing about it, but I kept getting these feelings. I kept MISSING things about the place I didn't even know about. Chips and pizza, or video games, or the smell of pines... HUMAN things, stuck in my head, and I'm never going to be rid of them!"
He turned, flinging his arm in an angry gesture towards the wall as he stomped over to the window that took up one side of the room and flopped down on a bench that looked like it had been turned into a berth.
At the gesture, Rung finally took his optics off Sunstreaker to examine the room.
It appeared to be an observation lounge somewhere overlooking the aft section of the ship. There were clear signs it had not been used as an observation deck in some time, refuse and boxes Sunstreaker hadn't cleared away that were not his.
The window taking up half the room let in glow from the engines, providing an odd sort of moody lighting that was... rather appealing.
As Rung turned to the wall Sunstreaker had gestured at, his mouth opened slightly.
The whole wall was covered in images. Somewhere, the golden mech had managed to find a range of paint colours, and with them he had covered the wall in a haphazard mural, painted by the looks of it with his bare servos.
The work was not the ordered, lauded paintings Rung knew to be Sunstreaker's public work.
It was instead a mess of scenes, flowing into one another without being a part of one another.
A landscape from earth... another of old Cybertron's crystal city... what looked like a fuzzy image of the pits of Kaon mid battle from a fighter's point of view... what looked like a picture of Sideswipe half turned to look at the viewer, the silhouette of two humans, the smiling face of Ironhide, a greyed out frame in pieces... and through everything there were these wires, cables, threading through, around and over indiscernible images between the defined scenes.
Every wire led to the middle of the wall, to a circle in which sat two fuzzy blue balls, squashed tight in their tiny space, surrounded by black and cables.
Rung moved closer, focussing in on the two blue dots. When he was standing directly in front of them, he reached out a servo to touch... tracing the very subtle, delicate details of what had looked at first like careless splotches.
But no... they were sparks. Two sparks crammed together.
A representation of the twin spark Sunstreaker shared with Sideswipe?
Rung turned back to Look at Sunstreaker, hunched on his bench as if exhausted, silhouetted against the window.
Bob had moved to stare up at his master, audial protrusions flicking and lowered as he made a plaintive sort of whine.
Sunstreaker reached a heavy servo out to pat him.
"He was afraid I'd try to kill myself if he left me alone."
the golden mech murmured as Rung moved over to sit on the end of the bench, looking out the window.
"Who was?"
"Ironhide. He didn't say it. He said it to Trion and didn't mean for me to hear. That's why he got Bob. He wanted something to keep me company... keep me distracted."
The golden mech's vocaliser was laced with static, telling Rung just how little he'd used it to be straining it already from such little use as their conversation.
"I thought briefly about calling him Hunter but... couldn't do it. Went with an Earth name because 'Hide suggested it and thought it was funny."
"That sounds about right to me. Ironhide has seen... far too many young mechs take their own lives over the course of the war to not be expecting and trying to prevent it where he can." The peach and cream mech explained quietly, scratching Bob's helm as the insecticon unceremoniously moved out from under Sunstreaker's unresponsive servo to flop his helm on Rung's lap.
"Without him here I don't... I'm not sure what i should be doing. I just knew I couldn't stay on Cybertron. Not with all those mechs reminding me what I did to them and trying to get me to talk."
He gave a short, mirthless laugh. "Should have known when i saw you on board that I wouldn't escape having to 'talk' eventually."
"What you haven't talked much about is how you felt about the fact you had to, essentially, save yourself." Rung mentioned quietly.
He looked over at the golden mech, who stared resolutely out the window, once again trying to effect his emotional mask.
"Do I even need to? I made a deal with the Decepticons to let them kill any and all humans they wanted. If that doesn't say how i felt about them abandoning me, i don't know what else to tell you."
"What that tells me is that you were hurt, and you didn't know how to express that short of lashing out."
"I never meant to hurt any of ours. Never. I just... I hated that planet, those humans, so much... It was them I wanted to hurt.. Just them."
"On the contrary... I think perhaps you were prepared to hurt the others in your unit as well. Essentially... you were damaged, you suffered, greatly, and after it all you were not given any indication that they cared enough to find you. So you made them all feel what you felt."
Sunstreaker stood suddenly and moved away, pacing, fists clenching and unclenching.
His engine rumbled, half in aggravation, half in distress.
Rung sat quietly, watching and waiting for the backlash. He'd hit a deep diode and he knew it.
Eventually Sunstreaker walked towards his mural, optics dark, and snarled, punching one of the more shadowy figures in the corner Rung had missed.
He wasn't sure how he'd missed it, the blue optics standing out vividly.
Sunstreaker punched Optimus' face numerous times, until energon spattered the wall and he didn't remove his fist, resting his forehelm against the bulkhead, fans whirring harshly in the ensuing silence.
Bob had moved to cower under the berth-bench, but Rung hadn't even flinched.
He waited patiently for Sunstreaker to sort out his emotional responses. It was a full three kliks before the golden mech spoke.
"I thought I'd gotten used to it. But it was different to me and Sides getting abandoned by our creators. I got over that a long time ago, we were sparked to be a product, that's what we were to them. I accepted that. I accepted I wasn't important enough within the army to waste resources on, but i wasn't... prepared for no one caring. No one but Sideswipe, and then the first thing he says to me... the first thing he wants to talk about is Hunter. I thought he'd get it... thought he knew me better than the others but he was just the same. And Optimus..."
He snarled, grinding his abused fist against the painted face, now impressively dented and energon spattered, benign blue optics captured so realistically in paint staring out impassionately.
"He's supposed to be the symbol of what we stand for. The mech with endless compassion and ability to accept, forgive, absolve. He didn't have time for me. I didn't matter to him, was't important to him. And I could live with that too, if he'd just... said SOMETHING. Anything... just a 'sorry we couldn't find you' or just 'Are you going to be okay'. Everything that happened, and he just... didn't care."
He let his servo fall from the wall and leant back, looking down at his dented knuckle joints, two out of alignment and aching to pit. He embraced the pain. It was easy. It felt like the Pits. Pits had been so much easier. Fight to survive, had to survive, no questioning it, not like now...
"I realised after a while that not only was I not important to the Autobot cause, I was unwanted. I was a burden. That's when I just... stopped trying I guess. Really I just wished I'd snuffed it under Ratchet's scalpel like Hunter. When the bridge happened and the swarm was coming after everyone... I saw my chance, and I took it. I'd been looking for it. I didn't do it to save them, I did it to save me."
Rung had dealt with many a suicidal patient. He had learnt a certain amount of detachment was necessary. But he was not cold sparked... that would be very counter productive to his profession.
And Sunstreaker... was one of the more tragic cases. And he felt his spark ache for the mech, less from what he was telling him, and more because he knew how hard it was for Sunstreaker to voice it. After all, the mech had internalised it to his end. It was nothing short of a miracle that he had survived what he had.
It was perhaps... unfortunate in a way that he HAD survived it, but then Rung did not discount the will of Primus. He had seen a lot of misplaced faith in his time, and much that made him wonder how any higher being could allow such terrible suffering, but Sunstreaker's survival against the odds had to mean something. There had to be some cosmic purpose behind it, and he liked to hope that perhaps it was so the mech could enjoy some form of healing and coming to terms with himself enough to find peace.
"If you were to meet Optimus again, is there anything you think you'd like to say to him?" Rung asked softly.
The golden mech turned slightly to him, arms limp by his sides.
"...No. I don't... want to see him. If i do, I'll probably just try to avoid him. I want to forget."
"These paintings look more like a reminder than an attempt to forget." He observed neutrally.
"I said I WANT to forget, not that I CAN. I just... I need to know what I am now. That's why this is here. This me... attempting to understand what I'm supposed to do now. There are things i need to remind myself of so I don't..."
"Become someone you don't like?" Rung supplied when Sunstreaker trailed off into a lengthy silence, making no sign he knew how to finish that train of thought.
The frontliner gave a non committal sort of noise that Rung took as a yes.
"That is a good thing. You are fully aware of what your experiences have done to you. You are clearly making an effort not to turn into something you dislike. You know... that extreme narcissism I saw in you so many vorns ago... is probably the thing that is working to keep you from becoming something you dislike."
Sunstreaker snorted and turned his helm fully to look at the psychiatrist with smouldering optics.
"You mean I'm saved by my ego?... Lucky me." His tone was wry, but he wandered back over, tension drained from him once more to be replaced with a weariness to rival that which Ratchet displayed.
"That doesn't help my sociopathic behavioural tendencies." he murmured as he sat heavily on the berth, Bob poking his helm out from underneath to look at him with big, over-bright optics.
"Perhaps not. But you know you are not a mech without skill, clearly". He gestured lightly at the mural. "And I know that art is not your only skill at that. You are by no means a useless mech, or a burden."
"Maybe not here." Sunstreaker consented in a murmur.
Rung took a chance, reaching out to lay his servo on the frontliner's shoulder, getting only a mild flinch in return and a slightly quizzical look.
"As far as I am concerned, you are not a useless mech anywhere. And you know as well as I that Ironhide would agree. It is important to remember when you are surrounded by those who do not know you that you still have the support of those that do."
To even the peach and cream mech's surprise, the tiniest, barest trace of a smile tugged at the corner of Sunstreaker's mouth.
Rung smiled softly in return and stood to leave, sensing that most of his work was done for today, but he was caught around the wrist by a servo.
He looked at Sunstreaker, slightly surprised but inviting him to say whatever it was he clearly needed to.
The golden mech opened his mouth, closed it, looked away, and cycled his vents before speaking without looking at him.
"Stay a while?... I'm... tired of being alone. It... I can't stop myself from... thinking, when it's just me."
Rung nodded understandingly and sat back down, entertaining Bob with scritches again as his lap was promptly filled with insecticon head.
"So...why this room? It seems rather nice, but I'm wondering why it is not still used as an observation deck." Rung asked curiously, looking around.
"Oh, there was a huge energon spatter across the wall I painted on and remains of a long-dead mech in the corner. It looked like one of the spark-eaters former victims, I incinerated the frame and painted over the stain, I figured no-one else would want this room anyway if they knew."
Rung gave him a queasy look. "Ah...I see... um... I think it's very safe to say you are right." He shuddered to remember the whole episode with the spark-eater, and Sunstreaker seemed to realise his discomfort belatedly with a slightly apologetic look.
"Oh, yea... heard about what Rodimus did. Want me to punch him for you? I actually hate the guy."
"No no... that's quite alright. I'm... no big fan of his either. To his credit, his plan was a good one, but it was wholly unnecessary for him to not just tell me what he wanted. I would have jumped out of the way in time."
Rung noticed Sunstreaker absently rubbing his damaged fist as he sought a change of subject.
"You should probably go to Ratchet and get that servo seen to soon. I'm sure you know him better than I, but I get the impression he does not suffer mechs to leave their injuries for a long time before going to him. I've been hearing stories about his accuracy with wrenches at a distance."
Sunstreaker smirked, looking the energon coated, dented plating over with mild interest.
"Yeah. We used to joke he should have been a sniper. We'dve won the war in a vorn if he was."
"I sense that you have many stories concerning your old CMO... I wouldn't mind hearing them if you'd indulge me."
Sunstreaker gave him a bemused look and nodded, launching into a particularly infamous story about the effectiveness of Ratchet's wrath on interrupting Decepticons during a field operation, Bob leaking mouth lubricants over Rung's thigh as he absently scratched behind an audial protrusion.
Excuse my shitty formatting and lack of capitalisation, Office2 HD doesnt Auto-capitalise like word-works does and i'm a lazy ass typer.
I suspect it was because I read the MTMTE #6 preview.
Also it was a chance to test out my new keyboard I bought for my ipad, which works better than my fucked up laptop one.
My head did a full dialogue with Rung and Sunstreaker and i realised I NEEDED to write it, so I did.
Title: Fresh Paint
WordCount: 4930
Verse: IDW- MTMTE and other ongoing and AHM continuities. (which I may have remembered incorrectly so sorry for non-canon inconsistency)
Rating: PG
Warnings: Angst, spoilers for the comics. You won't understand a lot of it if you don't know what happened to Sunstreaker.
Summary: Rung runs into Sunstreaker on the 'Lost Light' And decides it's time he got him to talk.
(story under cut)
"Stop!...Heel! Agh, I need that! Bring it back!"
Rung ran after the insecticon, since he was faster at a stride down the corridors of the 'Lost Light' than he was in his alt mode. Mostly because he would topple taking corners too fast, one of the curses of being a tri-wheel vehicle rather than the standard quad.
The insecticon made no move to slow, bounding down the corridors of the habitation suites, further and further into an area Rung had not visited. It was mostly storage rooms, so far as the schematic he had told him.
His pistons hissing loudly in protest, not used to having to work that rapidly for so long, he forced himself to continue.
That wasn't any old stylus after all. It was the one he'd received on graduation from the academy. it wouldn't even mean a great deal to him just from that except it had been given specifically to him by his single most admired role-model.
Expatiator, the greatest psychologist and psychiatrist Cybertron had ever seen (at least Rung thought so), had given him THAT stylus, and told him to 'Go out there and repair what the medics can't'.
That stylus was a symbol of his life's work, trying to live up to the task Expatiator had set him.
He was not about to let a pet insecticon steal it and use it as a chew toy.
So focused on pushing himself to break his frame's protests at such unusually vigorous use, he took another corner and ran headlong into something that did not give way, sending him sprawling across the deck on his aft rather spectacularly.
"Watch it." Was the gruff reply of the thing he'd run into, which was the only clue that told him it was a mech and not a wall.
A golden wall.
"Oh... Sunstreaker? I'm terribly sorry, I was... chasing your pet actually."
The psychiatrist looked up at the dour frontliner, trying not to stare.
It wasn't the first time they had met. But as with any time, and much like many other mechs, Rung found it difficult not to stare.
After all, Sunstreaker's narcissistic tendencies were not baseless.
It took the psychiatrist a moment to realise Sunstreaker, frowning as if slightly annoyed, was offering him a servo up.
He scrambled to accept, slightly embarrassed, but quickly recovered himself.
"I don't mean to trouble you, but your... insecticon has stolen something of mine I rather value-"
"Bob. Drop it."
The insecticon gave his master a mechanical whine and a tilt of his head.
The golden mech repeated his command with a tone that bore no argument and Bob finally relinquished, dropping the stylus into his master's outstretched servo.
"Ah, thankyou. I'm a little curious as to why he took it, is this a habit of his?"
Sunstreaker seemed to consider him a moment, expression unchanged, and turned to walk in the opposite direction as he answered.
"No. I sent him to look for things. I didn't mean for him to take things that belonged to other bots."
Curiosity found Rung following the frontliner without really consciously deciding to do so.
He had actually been meaning for some time to speak with Sunstreaker, but he'd hoped the mech would come to him of his own volition.
Part of him knew it had been too much to hope for really.
"What are you doing down here? I thought perhaps you'd be keeping company with the others in Swerve's distillery."
The frontliner gave a half shrug, his insecticon pet, 'Bob', trotting happily along beside him.
"Not really my kind of crowd I guess."
"I suppose it's the crowd part that puts you off the most?" Rung said neutrally.
"No." Flat, non-commital answer. At least it was an answer.
"So have you chosen a habitation suite yet?" A change of topic should get him talking a little better. He'd done an assessment on Sunstreaker and Sideswipe before. The golden twin was touted as the strong silent type by most of his peers, but in truth he was very talkative, assuming the conversation was intelligent and of interest to him.
"Sort of. It's not really a habitation suite. No one else was going to use it though."
There was a beat of silence as Rung caught up to the larger mech's sedate strides.
He knew the other mech was not walking slowly to let him keep up, but rather to stall their arrival at wherever Sunstreaker was headed.
"Look, I don't need shrinking, so i don't know why you're following me."
"On the contrary Sunstreaker, your recent records tell me otherwise. I'm not here to 'shrink' you, I just want to talk. Or more, I want you to talk, since i know that is not something you are inclined to do. What you are inclined to is-"
"Don't pretend to know me." The golden mech snarled, Bob mirroring the sound out of instinct.
Rung continued in a calm tone that was intended to be as non-provocative as possible.
"-you tend to bottle things up when you don't have another mech you feel comfortable talking to. And since neither your brother, nor Ironhide are here, and i haven't seen you taking any sort of liking to any of the other crew members-"
"Wrong again." Sunstreaker growled.
"Tell me how I am wrong. I do not wish to be right on this." Rung responded softly.
the frontliner stopped in his tracks suddenly, ex-venting in aggravation, Bob plopping down on his aft and looking between the two mechs with bemused confusion.
"It's not that I don't like any of them. They don't like ME. They have no reason to. Not after what I did."
"On Earth?" Rung asked without any bias in his tone, but he could see the dark blue optics cycling tightly.
Just the name of the planet had a negative effect.
Rung knew just from that he could not leave Sunstreaker untreated. It would go against every code he lived by.
Sunstreaker began walking again, stiff and clearly unwilling to touch the subject.
Rung didn't press. He knew he didn't have to. He just needed to wait a moment...
"You don't even know slag about Earth."
He knew enough about the golden mech to know he couldn't keep it to himself when there was a willing outlet like him around.
"I have reviewed every file of every mech on this ship and what happened on that planet to those who were there."
"Oh yeah? And what the slag would any of the records say about what happened to me? I'm sure there's a fully detailed report on how I betrayed the Autobot cause." He spat violently, Bob making a small whining noise, clearly not sure why his master was angry.
"Actually, Jazz made rather a large effort to retrieve any and all information regarding what the Humans did to you."
"Oh did he now? Pity he didn't expend the same effort to actually find me when it was happening." He snarled.
Stealing a sideways glance, Rung could see the normally extremely handsome faceplate was screwed up with intense anger and unspoken rage.
But even as he watched, it drained to a much wearier look.
"But I guess they paid their dues with my mistake. I mean frag, what slagging idiot takes STARSCREAM at his word?"
A cold, bitter laugh with no mirth followed, and they fell into silence again for a while.
"So you believe the crew here does not want you around because you betrayed your comrades? Even the mechs who were not part of the same crew, or not part of the war altogether?"
"You know me so well, what do you think? I've never exactly been social. In fact, your initial assessment was something like 'sociopathic to the point of discouraging contact with any but the few he trusts'. Oh, and that gem about me being narcissistic to the point that I value the condition of my paint over the safety of other mechs in my unit."
"At the time, that WAS the case you know. Mechs do change. Especially in war." The psychologist offered in a sort of apology.
"You haven't." He flung back gruffly, but there was no sting to it.
"On the contrary, I feel I have, but perhaps not outwardly. The point is, so have you. As you have proven through many occasions of sacrifice."
The golden mech did not respond, staring straight ahead and schooling his faceplates to hide his emotions behind a gruff mask.
It was as Rung wondered where best to steer the conversation that he noticed his own paint scuffs on the floor.
"Are you leading me in circles?"
"Are you?" He quipped back dodgingly.
"Is there something you do not wish me to see?"
"No... maybe... I don't know. I kind of hoped you'd get bored and leave. Or take a hint."
Rung frowned sightly as his mind started piecing little clues together.
"Would this have anything to do with your pet-"
"Bob."
"...with Bob stealing my stylus?"
The golden mech seemed to debate internally over how much he should reveal before he gave a rather loud ex-vent.
"I've been sending Bob out to find me supplies."
"Supplies?"
"...Art supplies. I show him stuff I want, get him to sniff it, train him to find it and then he goes and looks. He probably thought your stylus was a carbon stick. It's made of a carbon rich alloy I guess."
Rung looked over his stylus, nodding. "Yes, i believe so. So you still make art then? May I see what you've been doing recently?"
Again the frontliner seemed to work through some inner turmoil before reluctantly nodding.
"Fine. But no shrinking it, fraggit. It's not meant to be something I show mechs. I'm only letting you see because you'll understand most of it."
Rung nodded and they headed down a different corridor, Bob moving to follow Rung now, sniffing curiously at the psychiatrists servos, trying to get the stylus out of his grip.
Rung subspaced it and cautiously scratched the insecticon on the helm.
He smiled slightly as Bob whirred and pressed into the contact, eager for more.
"So why did you choose to get a pet? Not that it is uncommon in isolated Cybertronians."
"We didn't 'choose', it just kinda happened."
Rung tilted his helm at that half-afted answer. "Oh? What was the purpose for it?"
"HIM. He's not an 'it'." Sunstreaker grumbled.
"Nono, you misunderstand me... I meant the act, the taking on of the task, catching, training... what made you think to do it?"
"Oh... I guess Ironhide really thought of it first. I mean, he was out there killing the bugs, he noticed things about them. He realised the loners were different to the rest of the swarm. They were smarter for one, he thinks that's why they were alone, they got kicked out of the swarms or they left because they couldn't assimilate with the way the other bugs acted."
"So Ironhide caught him for you?" Rung asked casually.
"Yea, he thought I needed... a companion I guess. Something to keep me occupied while I was stuck in that chair with only Trion the almighty ego for company." He smirked. "Plus he had some idea like Bob would be my extra protection since I couldn't really fight with my legs not working."
"So why 'Bob'? It's an oddly un-Cybertronian name."
"Better than Hunte-" Sunstreaker cut himself off with a bark of feedback as he realised what he'd let slip and looked away.
"That was the name of the human, yes? The one that helped you escape?"
"I'm not talking about it."
The frontliner's voice was colder than solidified nitrogen. But Rung was not about to steer away from what was clearly one of the heaviest emotional burdens weighing Sunstreaker down.
"You must face what happened to you at some stage. Both of you, together I mean."
"That'll be a bit hard since he's dead." The golden mech bit back.
"Not entirely."
For the second time, they stopped dead in the middle of the corridor, but the look Sunstreaker turned on Rung was so intense the psychologist nearly stepped back.
Instead he forced himself to hold his ground and counter with an open sort of calm that diffused Sunstreaker's anger.
"What do you mean 'not entirely'? What kind if slag is that?"
"You were bonded on a neuro-cynaptic level. That is what Ratchet's report states. Therefore you shared, for a small while, one mind. You were both separate identities yes, but parts of you... leaked into one another. If Ratchet had not separated you soon enough, the 'leak' would have continued until you both became a new, melded identity. One lifeform in two bodies. Two brains. He may be dead, but parts of his mind remained imprinted into yours."
Sunstreaker's optics remained cold, hard, cycling tightly, searching Rung's for a lie he wished was there.
"Why didn't Ratchet tell me this?"
"You'll have to ask him that. But I suspect he meant to, and simply didn't want to have to broach the subject unless it became necessary. To be fair, you are not exactly open to discussing the topic."
"Damn slagging right I'm not." He growled, turning to walk again, moving to a door a little way ahead of them and punching his code into the door angrily.
"How eager would you be to discuss the fact one of those filthy organic primitives had been inside you? Had seen everything about you, every secret laid bare, no thought your own. How would you like it if you had to bind yourself to one of the species that tore you into pieces and let you suffer like you were in the seven smelts of the pit?
I asked him to kill me. Even he wouldn't grant me that mercy."
The door opened and Bob bounded in, Sunstreaker stomping in after and not waiting for Rung.
"Mechs liked that stupid meatbag. He had friends. They mourned him. They hated me for not mourning him. You know what the worst part is?"
He turned to face the psychiatrist, who's optics had never left him.
"The worst part is I DID feel bad. And I didn't know WHY. I didn't want to care. I didn't even like the kid. I was glad to be rid of him except that i never WILL be... Ratchet didn't tell me about any... neuro-linko slag, but that doesn't mean i couldn't still feel bits of him in my head. I thought... I thought i must be going nuts at one stage. I HATE Earth. Hate everything on it, every stinkin' thing about it, but I kept getting these feelings. I kept MISSING things about the place I didn't even know about. Chips and pizza, or video games, or the smell of pines... HUMAN things, stuck in my head, and I'm never going to be rid of them!"
He turned, flinging his arm in an angry gesture towards the wall as he stomped over to the window that took up one side of the room and flopped down on a bench that looked like it had been turned into a berth.
At the gesture, Rung finally took his optics off Sunstreaker to examine the room.
It appeared to be an observation lounge somewhere overlooking the aft section of the ship. There were clear signs it had not been used as an observation deck in some time, refuse and boxes Sunstreaker hadn't cleared away that were not his.
The window taking up half the room let in glow from the engines, providing an odd sort of moody lighting that was... rather appealing.
As Rung turned to the wall Sunstreaker had gestured at, his mouth opened slightly.
The whole wall was covered in images. Somewhere, the golden mech had managed to find a range of paint colours, and with them he had covered the wall in a haphazard mural, painted by the looks of it with his bare servos.
The work was not the ordered, lauded paintings Rung knew to be Sunstreaker's public work.
It was instead a mess of scenes, flowing into one another without being a part of one another.
A landscape from earth... another of old Cybertron's crystal city... what looked like a fuzzy image of the pits of Kaon mid battle from a fighter's point of view... what looked like a picture of Sideswipe half turned to look at the viewer, the silhouette of two humans, the smiling face of Ironhide, a greyed out frame in pieces... and through everything there were these wires, cables, threading through, around and over indiscernible images between the defined scenes.
Every wire led to the middle of the wall, to a circle in which sat two fuzzy blue balls, squashed tight in their tiny space, surrounded by black and cables.
Rung moved closer, focussing in on the two blue dots. When he was standing directly in front of them, he reached out a servo to touch... tracing the very subtle, delicate details of what had looked at first like careless splotches.
But no... they were sparks. Two sparks crammed together.
A representation of the twin spark Sunstreaker shared with Sideswipe?
Rung turned back to Look at Sunstreaker, hunched on his bench as if exhausted, silhouetted against the window.
Bob had moved to stare up at his master, audial protrusions flicking and lowered as he made a plaintive sort of whine.
Sunstreaker reached a heavy servo out to pat him.
"He was afraid I'd try to kill myself if he left me alone."
the golden mech murmured as Rung moved over to sit on the end of the bench, looking out the window.
"Who was?"
"Ironhide. He didn't say it. He said it to Trion and didn't mean for me to hear. That's why he got Bob. He wanted something to keep me company... keep me distracted."
The golden mech's vocaliser was laced with static, telling Rung just how little he'd used it to be straining it already from such little use as their conversation.
"I thought briefly about calling him Hunter but... couldn't do it. Went with an Earth name because 'Hide suggested it and thought it was funny."
"That sounds about right to me. Ironhide has seen... far too many young mechs take their own lives over the course of the war to not be expecting and trying to prevent it where he can." The peach and cream mech explained quietly, scratching Bob's helm as the insecticon unceremoniously moved out from under Sunstreaker's unresponsive servo to flop his helm on Rung's lap.
"Without him here I don't... I'm not sure what i should be doing. I just knew I couldn't stay on Cybertron. Not with all those mechs reminding me what I did to them and trying to get me to talk."
He gave a short, mirthless laugh. "Should have known when i saw you on board that I wouldn't escape having to 'talk' eventually."
"What you haven't talked much about is how you felt about the fact you had to, essentially, save yourself." Rung mentioned quietly.
He looked over at the golden mech, who stared resolutely out the window, once again trying to effect his emotional mask.
"Do I even need to? I made a deal with the Decepticons to let them kill any and all humans they wanted. If that doesn't say how i felt about them abandoning me, i don't know what else to tell you."
"What that tells me is that you were hurt, and you didn't know how to express that short of lashing out."
"I never meant to hurt any of ours. Never. I just... I hated that planet, those humans, so much... It was them I wanted to hurt.. Just them."
"On the contrary... I think perhaps you were prepared to hurt the others in your unit as well. Essentially... you were damaged, you suffered, greatly, and after it all you were not given any indication that they cared enough to find you. So you made them all feel what you felt."
Sunstreaker stood suddenly and moved away, pacing, fists clenching and unclenching.
His engine rumbled, half in aggravation, half in distress.
Rung sat quietly, watching and waiting for the backlash. He'd hit a deep diode and he knew it.
Eventually Sunstreaker walked towards his mural, optics dark, and snarled, punching one of the more shadowy figures in the corner Rung had missed.
He wasn't sure how he'd missed it, the blue optics standing out vividly.
Sunstreaker punched Optimus' face numerous times, until energon spattered the wall and he didn't remove his fist, resting his forehelm against the bulkhead, fans whirring harshly in the ensuing silence.
Bob had moved to cower under the berth-bench, but Rung hadn't even flinched.
He waited patiently for Sunstreaker to sort out his emotional responses. It was a full three kliks before the golden mech spoke.
"I thought I'd gotten used to it. But it was different to me and Sides getting abandoned by our creators. I got over that a long time ago, we were sparked to be a product, that's what we were to them. I accepted that. I accepted I wasn't important enough within the army to waste resources on, but i wasn't... prepared for no one caring. No one but Sideswipe, and then the first thing he says to me... the first thing he wants to talk about is Hunter. I thought he'd get it... thought he knew me better than the others but he was just the same. And Optimus..."
He snarled, grinding his abused fist against the painted face, now impressively dented and energon spattered, benign blue optics captured so realistically in paint staring out impassionately.
"He's supposed to be the symbol of what we stand for. The mech with endless compassion and ability to accept, forgive, absolve. He didn't have time for me. I didn't matter to him, was't important to him. And I could live with that too, if he'd just... said SOMETHING. Anything... just a 'sorry we couldn't find you' or just 'Are you going to be okay'. Everything that happened, and he just... didn't care."
He let his servo fall from the wall and leant back, looking down at his dented knuckle joints, two out of alignment and aching to pit. He embraced the pain. It was easy. It felt like the Pits. Pits had been so much easier. Fight to survive, had to survive, no questioning it, not like now...
"I realised after a while that not only was I not important to the Autobot cause, I was unwanted. I was a burden. That's when I just... stopped trying I guess. Really I just wished I'd snuffed it under Ratchet's scalpel like Hunter. When the bridge happened and the swarm was coming after everyone... I saw my chance, and I took it. I'd been looking for it. I didn't do it to save them, I did it to save me."
Rung had dealt with many a suicidal patient. He had learnt a certain amount of detachment was necessary. But he was not cold sparked... that would be very counter productive to his profession.
And Sunstreaker... was one of the more tragic cases. And he felt his spark ache for the mech, less from what he was telling him, and more because he knew how hard it was for Sunstreaker to voice it. After all, the mech had internalised it to his end. It was nothing short of a miracle that he had survived what he had.
It was perhaps... unfortunate in a way that he HAD survived it, but then Rung did not discount the will of Primus. He had seen a lot of misplaced faith in his time, and much that made him wonder how any higher being could allow such terrible suffering, but Sunstreaker's survival against the odds had to mean something. There had to be some cosmic purpose behind it, and he liked to hope that perhaps it was so the mech could enjoy some form of healing and coming to terms with himself enough to find peace.
"If you were to meet Optimus again, is there anything you think you'd like to say to him?" Rung asked softly.
The golden mech turned slightly to him, arms limp by his sides.
"...No. I don't... want to see him. If i do, I'll probably just try to avoid him. I want to forget."
"These paintings look more like a reminder than an attempt to forget." He observed neutrally.
"I said I WANT to forget, not that I CAN. I just... I need to know what I am now. That's why this is here. This me... attempting to understand what I'm supposed to do now. There are things i need to remind myself of so I don't..."
"Become someone you don't like?" Rung supplied when Sunstreaker trailed off into a lengthy silence, making no sign he knew how to finish that train of thought.
The frontliner gave a non committal sort of noise that Rung took as a yes.
"That is a good thing. You are fully aware of what your experiences have done to you. You are clearly making an effort not to turn into something you dislike. You know... that extreme narcissism I saw in you so many vorns ago... is probably the thing that is working to keep you from becoming something you dislike."
Sunstreaker snorted and turned his helm fully to look at the psychiatrist with smouldering optics.
"You mean I'm saved by my ego?... Lucky me." His tone was wry, but he wandered back over, tension drained from him once more to be replaced with a weariness to rival that which Ratchet displayed.
"That doesn't help my sociopathic behavioural tendencies." he murmured as he sat heavily on the berth, Bob poking his helm out from underneath to look at him with big, over-bright optics.
"Perhaps not. But you know you are not a mech without skill, clearly". He gestured lightly at the mural. "And I know that art is not your only skill at that. You are by no means a useless mech, or a burden."
"Maybe not here." Sunstreaker consented in a murmur.
Rung took a chance, reaching out to lay his servo on the frontliner's shoulder, getting only a mild flinch in return and a slightly quizzical look.
"As far as I am concerned, you are not a useless mech anywhere. And you know as well as I that Ironhide would agree. It is important to remember when you are surrounded by those who do not know you that you still have the support of those that do."
To even the peach and cream mech's surprise, the tiniest, barest trace of a smile tugged at the corner of Sunstreaker's mouth.
Rung smiled softly in return and stood to leave, sensing that most of his work was done for today, but he was caught around the wrist by a servo.
He looked at Sunstreaker, slightly surprised but inviting him to say whatever it was he clearly needed to.
The golden mech opened his mouth, closed it, looked away, and cycled his vents before speaking without looking at him.
"Stay a while?... I'm... tired of being alone. It... I can't stop myself from... thinking, when it's just me."
Rung nodded understandingly and sat back down, entertaining Bob with scritches again as his lap was promptly filled with insecticon head.
"So...why this room? It seems rather nice, but I'm wondering why it is not still used as an observation deck." Rung asked curiously, looking around.
"Oh, there was a huge energon spatter across the wall I painted on and remains of a long-dead mech in the corner. It looked like one of the spark-eaters former victims, I incinerated the frame and painted over the stain, I figured no-one else would want this room anyway if they knew."
Rung gave him a queasy look. "Ah...I see... um... I think it's very safe to say you are right." He shuddered to remember the whole episode with the spark-eater, and Sunstreaker seemed to realise his discomfort belatedly with a slightly apologetic look.
"Oh, yea... heard about what Rodimus did. Want me to punch him for you? I actually hate the guy."
"No no... that's quite alright. I'm... no big fan of his either. To his credit, his plan was a good one, but it was wholly unnecessary for him to not just tell me what he wanted. I would have jumped out of the way in time."
Rung noticed Sunstreaker absently rubbing his damaged fist as he sought a change of subject.
"You should probably go to Ratchet and get that servo seen to soon. I'm sure you know him better than I, but I get the impression he does not suffer mechs to leave their injuries for a long time before going to him. I've been hearing stories about his accuracy with wrenches at a distance."
Sunstreaker smirked, looking the energon coated, dented plating over with mild interest.
"Yeah. We used to joke he should have been a sniper. We'dve won the war in a vorn if he was."
"I sense that you have many stories concerning your old CMO... I wouldn't mind hearing them if you'd indulge me."
Sunstreaker gave him a bemused look and nodded, launching into a particularly infamous story about the effectiveness of Ratchet's wrath on interrupting Decepticons during a field operation, Bob leaking mouth lubricants over Rung's thigh as he absently scratched behind an audial protrusion.
Excuse my shitty formatting and lack of capitalisation, Office2 HD doesnt Auto-capitalise like word-works does and i'm a lazy ass typer.