Fic: Winter Coat (6/?)
Title: Winter Coat
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Hound, Mirage, several OC Decepticons, Ratchet
Summary: Hound can see underneath the cold exterior that Mirage uses to protect himself. Knowing what's wrong doesn't make helping him any easier, however.
Warnings: Violence
A/N: Thanks goes to naggingfishwife for betaing.
Mirage felt his anxiety spike as Hound disappeared from his sight. In the scout’s place was a large filthy old dumpster. Mirage feared for a moment that the Decepticons would notice and figure Hound out. Instead, they went right on arguing about whether to go back to their base or blow up the area. Mirage waited for several tense minutes until Hound fired his first shot.
There were cries of shock from the Decepticons, and he could hear a flurry of movement, but couldn’t see what they were doing. He didn’t dare move to see, but watched and listened as shots were traded between Hound and whatever Decepticons remained.
A familiar voice cried out and Hound’s hologram flickered. Mirage caught a brief glimpse of Hound holding a hand to his side before the dumpster illusion was back in place. Unfortunately, it appeared the other Decepticons had seen it too. Within moments one had barreled through the illusion, dragging Hound out of Mirage’s sight.
“That idiot, I told him,” Mirage growled. He flinched as he heard the unmistakable sounds of a one sided beating. Mirage pressed his hands to the wall at his back, pushing himself up. He bit back a groan as fire raced up his leg, but despite the pain he managed to stand up fully.
With the an arm on the wall for support and the other still holding his pistol, Mirage started shambling his way towards the mouth of the alley. He flinched and almost stumbled as he heard Hound’s shouts of pain beyond his sight. He took another painful step, venting heavily as his leg throbbed.
Mirage was almost to the mouth of the alley when Hound’s grunts and cries cut off, and his spark clenched in fear for the scout. His working limbs trembled and burned as he fought to keep moving. If he stopped now, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to summon the strength to get back up.
He felt his tanks lurch as he finally reached the alley’s opening and saw four Decepticons gathered around Hound, who was curled up on the ground and unconscious. Numerous dents littered Hound’s frame as well as smears of energon, Mirage could also see a burn hole in Hound’s side that was bleeding, likely the wound that had broken Hound’s concentration on his hologram.
The Decepticons were savagely beating Hound, kicking him over and over. This wasn’t a fight, it was a mauling. Even as he raised his pistol, some separate part of Mirage’s consciousness questioned why the Decepticons hadn’t just killed Hound. He wasn’t a threat, and hadn’t incurred their wrath like Mirage had, so why were they beating a mech they could kill so easily now?
Mirage pushed those thoughts away as he pulled the trigger. He had to focus on protecting Hound, and couldn’t allow aimless wonderings to distract him. He could think later, for now he had to act. The first shot got a mech in the knee. He collapsed, stunned and expression twisted in pain. Mirage’s next shot got him in the faceplate.
The Decepticons were instantly on alert and running for cover. “I told you! I knew he was still here!” Recoil shouted. Mirage got another mech in the back of the helm as he retreated, however the pistol couldn’t penetrate as deeply as his rifle would have and the thick helm armor protected the vital CPU it encased. The helm was still left with a rather nasty dent and burn mark, at least.
The street was silent for several moments as the Decepticons and Mirage tried to figure out what to do next. Mirage knew that he had little time before the Decepticons grew bold and tried to rush him, or the seekers came back. He was stuck where he was, however, trapped because of his leg. Mirage gave Hound a quick once over, wincing again at the damage. Hound’s armor was dented and cracked, energon steadily seeping from the cracks and the natural gaps in the armor, his optics were offline, one shattered, and one of his hands was crumpled and missing several digits.
For a moment, Mirage was almost overwhelmed by complete helplessness. He was alone with an unconscious companion, injured, and outnumbered. He knew they wouldn’t make it out without help. He slowly slid down the wall, suddenly too tired to support himself. He kept his gun leveled, though, ready to fire at whoever made a target of himself.
He saw a helm start to poke out from behind a crumbling wall and fired. The other pulled back before they were hit. Mirage kept his optics moving, scanning the street for the first Decepticon to brave the open.
They couldn’t find him, even if they dared to look, they couldn’t find him. He just had to remind himself of this. He could hold them off at least for a while. Maybe if he held out long enough by the time they overpowered him the other Autobots would arrive. He just had to hope for that, even if hope was in such short supply in these troubled times.
“Getting scared, Autobot?” a voice called out. Mirage’s fingers tightened on the pistol’s handle as he waited.
“You like what we did to your friend? We’ve got worse saved up for you! Maybe when we’re done we’ll drag you and your friend back to our base alive. Everyone’s been getting a little bored, some Autobots would really bring energy to the place, don’t you think?”
Mirage fought not to tremble. They were just trying to scare him, then he would make a mistake and they could overpower him. He just had to keep calm and watch out for anything they tried to do.
“You two would be great entertainment, I can tell you’d fight us every astrosecond we had you until we broke you both down. The way that friend of yours was fighting for you, I bet he’d be real upset watching us hurt you.”
“I bet they’ve got something going on between them!” another voice crowed and both of the taunting mechs cackled madly. “Who wouldn’t take the chance to jump that chassis?”
“Including you, Fragment?”
“Maybe if anything’s left of him.”
Mirage’s hands shook violently and he tried not to huddle up and cringe at the implications. Hearing the taunts was in some ways worse than when the Decepticons had been beating him. He hated anticipating and imagining them putting their words to action.
Mirage cried out as a searing pain struck his hand. He dropped his pistol in reflex, realizing his mistake the instant it slipped from his fingers. Footsteps pounded toward him as he scrambled for his pistol. His fingers brushed the handle when broad hands grabbed his shoulders and forced him up against the wall.
He knew even before he raised his optics that it was Recoil who had him. Mirage mentally berated himself for letting the other two Decepticons draw his attention from their third companion.
“Fancy meeting you again,” Recoil said as he tightened his hand around Mirage’s throat.
Before Mirage could retaliate, Recoil swung him around and back into the alley. Mirage bit back a scream as he tumbled painfully onto his front. As he was pushing himself up a pede struck out at his side. The force of the kick rolled him onto his back to stare up at Recoil.
Recoil stormed over kicking out at Mirage again. Mirage twisted, trying to protect his front and the pede connected with his back. Blow after blow rained down on Mirage, never giving him a chance to put up any sort of defense or retaliation. In what rational thought he could pull together between the pain of the strikes, Mirage felt an even greater fear at the blind fury the Decepticon seemed to be under. Before, he’d been calculating, trying to hurt and humiliate Mirage, and drag out his torment for his own twisted satisfaction. Now he just wanted to reduce Mirage to a pile of scrap and let out all of his own rage in the process.
Before, Mirage could argue and fight back, but under Recoil’s relentless, blind assault he was helpless; he wasn’t given a moment’s opportunity to do anything but curl up and hope he was knocked unconscious soon.
Over the din of metal striking metal Mirage thought he could hear something else right outside the alley, frenzied and panicked shouts. For a moment, he thought the other two Decepticons had roused Hound and started beating him again. He realized it sounded bigger than even that and his spark swelled with anticipation, hoping it was the other Autobots. Before he could find out for certain, Recoil aimed a kick at his helm that knocked him out.
---
“-stay down… or I swear I…”
The muffled shouting was the first thing Mirage picked up. As his systems came online he could feel the aching of his limbs, the pounding in his helm; all as system diagnostics flitted through his CPU. That he felt anything was a good sign.
“-aren’t in any shape yourself… surrounded by idiots! The whole lot of you!”
Mirage smiled, finally recognizing who the voice belonged to. If Ratchet was ranting in such a manner, then that meant he was safe, both medically and in location.
“-just for a moment, Ratchet? I’m going crazy here.”
All of Mirage’s remaining anxiety fled at the plaintive voice. It was a relief to hear Hound, and if he was well enough to get a lashing from Ratchet’s sharp glossa, he was likely recovering fine.
“You take a step off that berth and I’ll weld you to it.”
A static laced chuckle escaped Mirage at the mental image of Ratchet holding Hound down one handed as he used a welding torch to connect Hound’s aft to the berth. He could feel the shifting of a body and felt the presence of another at his side. “Are you awake, Mirage?” Ratchet asked as gentle fingers traced over his frame.
Mirage didn’t know if he could speak and instead made a soft sound of assent. He kept his optics off, as he knew if he turned them on he’d only be blinded by the med bay’s florescent lighting, and let Ratchet check him over.
“Your health appears to still be stable and your systems are already doing automatic repairs. You’re still heavily damaged, however, and you won’t be well enough to leave for the next two days. It’d best that you rest for now; you’ll heal faster that way. That goes for you too, Hound. You aren’t stepping out of this room until I say so.”
Mirage smiled and relaxed. When Ratchet seemed satisfied with his check on Mirage, he moved away and to whatever other task required his attention.
“It was a real relief to know you’d be alright,” Mirage heard Hound murmur, and realized he must have the berth next to him. “You’d be surprised how many visitors we’ve gotten, or potential visitors. Ratchet hasn’t really let many mechs in; I think he’s worried too much excitement would upset your recovery.”
Although Hound didn’t say it, Mirage could hear what he meant anyway. Ratchet was worried some of the mechs might display a negative attitude towards Mirage and hinder his recovery with their behavior.
“He’s let in the officers though, I got to talk to Trailbreaker for a while. He told me some of the stuff that happened when we were rescued; apparently the twins and Bluestreak did a real good job taking out the seekers. Looking at Bluestreak, you wouldn’t really think him to be so good with a rifle, maybe you two should try pitting yourselves against each other, it’d be interesting to see who’s a better shot. Prime and Jazz were also here earlier. Jazz was really relieved to see you’d be alright. He didn’t show it, but I think he was anxious to know you’d be fine. He was apparently with Blaster when I sent in the comm that you were captured. He tries to hide it behind all the joviality, but he does think of us as his responsibility, you even more-so because you’re still in training. Prime seemed interested in what happened with you after I was knocked out; wish I could’ve told him, but I don’t have any idea either…”
Mirage let the sound of Hound’s voice slowly lull him into recharge, ignoring the doubt that there’d be so much concern for him. He didn’t wish to dwell on the mingled hope and bitterness on the concern of others.
---
When Mirage next onlined, he did feel better than last time. He was still sore, but he could move some at least. He was even able to power up his optics and look around the med bay. There was nothing really new to the room, aside from Hound on the berth next to him reading a data pad.
“I didn’t take you for the reading sort,” Mirage said.
Hound looked up at Mirage’s voice and beamed. He put the pad in his lap and focused his attention on Mirage. “I do sometimes, when I find something that interests me. Besides, there’s not much else to do when there’s no one to talk to.”
“What are you reading?”
“An old file about the family structures of cyberwolves.”
“Where did you get such a file? I wouldn’t think such a thing would be preserved during these times.”
Hound shrugged and grinned sheepishly. “Mechs save what they can, archivists, researchers, and the sort would’ve wanted to save whatever information they could, whether it was the schematics of a rifle or the mating habits of mechanimals. There are computers set up in most bases with access to a lot of Cybertron’s history and culture, what’s been saved, at least.”
“I’ll have to look into what we have access to, then. How are you, by the way? The Decepticons had worked you over when I last saw you.”
“I’m doing better now. One of those ‘Cons managed to bust my fuel tank when they’d been beating me up, but Ratchet says that if the repairs hold until this evening, he’ll let me out. What happened while I was out? Did they discover you?”
Mirage offered a weak shrug. “Something of the sort. When they pulled you out of my sight, I had to follow. I couldn’t let them kill you.”
Hound grinned, and Mirage predicted the tease before he even said anything. “So, I’m not the only one for ‘idiot heroics’, am I?”
“What else was I to do? I couldn’t let them kill you. Although I was invisible, one of them still found me. I suppose he was able to figure out I’d come from the same alley as you’d been, and that I couldn’t have moved much after my first shots.”
“It was an infrared sensor actually. That’s how he said he found me right before they started going at me.” Hound’s typical cheer was replaced by a quieter, more contemplative look. “He was really set on you, Mirage. I’d even bet that sensor was so he could find you. Why would he be so focused on you?”
Mirage grimaced. “When the Towers were attacked, I took out any Decepticons I could. Recoil, that Decepticon, thought I may have been responsible for killing his brother. I wouldn’t even know, honestly. I didn’t take names while I was trying to shoot them. That attack is such a blur; I couldn’t describe a single mech I killed.” Mirage couldn’t hide the regret he felt about that, and Hound picked up on it.
“Does that bother you?”
“I don’t regret killing them, entirely, but they shouldn’t be faceless to me. I feel like their deaths should carry some weight. Despite how I come off, I don’t want to be that cold,” Mirage ended in a whisper. He looked away before he did something to embarrass himself.
“You’re not,” Hound replied without a trace of doubt in his tone. “If you were half as cold as you try to pretend you are, you wouldn’t have come after me, and you wouldn’t feel as burdened as you do about killing.”
Mirage nodded absently, still staring at the corner of Hound’s berth rather than at him. “Thank you.” A data pad was slid onto his berth and he looked back at Hound in bemusement. Hound was still holding his own pad, however.
“I asked Trailbreaker to drop a couple off for us, I didn’t know if you’d be up to much talking, but I didn’t want you lying in here with nothing to do. I don’t know what he put on your pad, but I figure anything’s better than nothing.”
Mirage nodded, stunned at the thoughtful gesture. He took the pad, feeling almost as much pain as appreciation at something so small. “Thank you, Hound, for thinking of me.”
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Hound, Mirage, several OC Decepticons, Ratchet
Summary: Hound can see underneath the cold exterior that Mirage uses to protect himself. Knowing what's wrong doesn't make helping him any easier, however.
Warnings: Violence
A/N: Thanks goes to naggingfishwife for betaing.
Mirage felt his anxiety spike as Hound disappeared from his sight. In the scout’s place was a large filthy old dumpster. Mirage feared for a moment that the Decepticons would notice and figure Hound out. Instead, they went right on arguing about whether to go back to their base or blow up the area. Mirage waited for several tense minutes until Hound fired his first shot.
There were cries of shock from the Decepticons, and he could hear a flurry of movement, but couldn’t see what they were doing. He didn’t dare move to see, but watched and listened as shots were traded between Hound and whatever Decepticons remained.
A familiar voice cried out and Hound’s hologram flickered. Mirage caught a brief glimpse of Hound holding a hand to his side before the dumpster illusion was back in place. Unfortunately, it appeared the other Decepticons had seen it too. Within moments one had barreled through the illusion, dragging Hound out of Mirage’s sight.
“That idiot, I told him,” Mirage growled. He flinched as he heard the unmistakable sounds of a one sided beating. Mirage pressed his hands to the wall at his back, pushing himself up. He bit back a groan as fire raced up his leg, but despite the pain he managed to stand up fully.
With the an arm on the wall for support and the other still holding his pistol, Mirage started shambling his way towards the mouth of the alley. He flinched and almost stumbled as he heard Hound’s shouts of pain beyond his sight. He took another painful step, venting heavily as his leg throbbed.
Mirage was almost to the mouth of the alley when Hound’s grunts and cries cut off, and his spark clenched in fear for the scout. His working limbs trembled and burned as he fought to keep moving. If he stopped now, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to summon the strength to get back up.
He felt his tanks lurch as he finally reached the alley’s opening and saw four Decepticons gathered around Hound, who was curled up on the ground and unconscious. Numerous dents littered Hound’s frame as well as smears of energon, Mirage could also see a burn hole in Hound’s side that was bleeding, likely the wound that had broken Hound’s concentration on his hologram.
The Decepticons were savagely beating Hound, kicking him over and over. This wasn’t a fight, it was a mauling. Even as he raised his pistol, some separate part of Mirage’s consciousness questioned why the Decepticons hadn’t just killed Hound. He wasn’t a threat, and hadn’t incurred their wrath like Mirage had, so why were they beating a mech they could kill so easily now?
Mirage pushed those thoughts away as he pulled the trigger. He had to focus on protecting Hound, and couldn’t allow aimless wonderings to distract him. He could think later, for now he had to act. The first shot got a mech in the knee. He collapsed, stunned and expression twisted in pain. Mirage’s next shot got him in the faceplate.
The Decepticons were instantly on alert and running for cover. “I told you! I knew he was still here!” Recoil shouted. Mirage got another mech in the back of the helm as he retreated, however the pistol couldn’t penetrate as deeply as his rifle would have and the thick helm armor protected the vital CPU it encased. The helm was still left with a rather nasty dent and burn mark, at least.
The street was silent for several moments as the Decepticons and Mirage tried to figure out what to do next. Mirage knew that he had little time before the Decepticons grew bold and tried to rush him, or the seekers came back. He was stuck where he was, however, trapped because of his leg. Mirage gave Hound a quick once over, wincing again at the damage. Hound’s armor was dented and cracked, energon steadily seeping from the cracks and the natural gaps in the armor, his optics were offline, one shattered, and one of his hands was crumpled and missing several digits.
For a moment, Mirage was almost overwhelmed by complete helplessness. He was alone with an unconscious companion, injured, and outnumbered. He knew they wouldn’t make it out without help. He slowly slid down the wall, suddenly too tired to support himself. He kept his gun leveled, though, ready to fire at whoever made a target of himself.
He saw a helm start to poke out from behind a crumbling wall and fired. The other pulled back before they were hit. Mirage kept his optics moving, scanning the street for the first Decepticon to brave the open.
They couldn’t find him, even if they dared to look, they couldn’t find him. He just had to remind himself of this. He could hold them off at least for a while. Maybe if he held out long enough by the time they overpowered him the other Autobots would arrive. He just had to hope for that, even if hope was in such short supply in these troubled times.
“Getting scared, Autobot?” a voice called out. Mirage’s fingers tightened on the pistol’s handle as he waited.
“You like what we did to your friend? We’ve got worse saved up for you! Maybe when we’re done we’ll drag you and your friend back to our base alive. Everyone’s been getting a little bored, some Autobots would really bring energy to the place, don’t you think?”
Mirage fought not to tremble. They were just trying to scare him, then he would make a mistake and they could overpower him. He just had to keep calm and watch out for anything they tried to do.
“You two would be great entertainment, I can tell you’d fight us every astrosecond we had you until we broke you both down. The way that friend of yours was fighting for you, I bet he’d be real upset watching us hurt you.”
“I bet they’ve got something going on between them!” another voice crowed and both of the taunting mechs cackled madly. “Who wouldn’t take the chance to jump that chassis?”
“Including you, Fragment?”
“Maybe if anything’s left of him.”
Mirage’s hands shook violently and he tried not to huddle up and cringe at the implications. Hearing the taunts was in some ways worse than when the Decepticons had been beating him. He hated anticipating and imagining them putting their words to action.
Mirage cried out as a searing pain struck his hand. He dropped his pistol in reflex, realizing his mistake the instant it slipped from his fingers. Footsteps pounded toward him as he scrambled for his pistol. His fingers brushed the handle when broad hands grabbed his shoulders and forced him up against the wall.
He knew even before he raised his optics that it was Recoil who had him. Mirage mentally berated himself for letting the other two Decepticons draw his attention from their third companion.
“Fancy meeting you again,” Recoil said as he tightened his hand around Mirage’s throat.
Before Mirage could retaliate, Recoil swung him around and back into the alley. Mirage bit back a scream as he tumbled painfully onto his front. As he was pushing himself up a pede struck out at his side. The force of the kick rolled him onto his back to stare up at Recoil.
Recoil stormed over kicking out at Mirage again. Mirage twisted, trying to protect his front and the pede connected with his back. Blow after blow rained down on Mirage, never giving him a chance to put up any sort of defense or retaliation. In what rational thought he could pull together between the pain of the strikes, Mirage felt an even greater fear at the blind fury the Decepticon seemed to be under. Before, he’d been calculating, trying to hurt and humiliate Mirage, and drag out his torment for his own twisted satisfaction. Now he just wanted to reduce Mirage to a pile of scrap and let out all of his own rage in the process.
Before, Mirage could argue and fight back, but under Recoil’s relentless, blind assault he was helpless; he wasn’t given a moment’s opportunity to do anything but curl up and hope he was knocked unconscious soon.
Over the din of metal striking metal Mirage thought he could hear something else right outside the alley, frenzied and panicked shouts. For a moment, he thought the other two Decepticons had roused Hound and started beating him again. He realized it sounded bigger than even that and his spark swelled with anticipation, hoping it was the other Autobots. Before he could find out for certain, Recoil aimed a kick at his helm that knocked him out.
---
“-stay down… or I swear I…”
The muffled shouting was the first thing Mirage picked up. As his systems came online he could feel the aching of his limbs, the pounding in his helm; all as system diagnostics flitted through his CPU. That he felt anything was a good sign.
“-aren’t in any shape yourself… surrounded by idiots! The whole lot of you!”
Mirage smiled, finally recognizing who the voice belonged to. If Ratchet was ranting in such a manner, then that meant he was safe, both medically and in location.
“-just for a moment, Ratchet? I’m going crazy here.”
All of Mirage’s remaining anxiety fled at the plaintive voice. It was a relief to hear Hound, and if he was well enough to get a lashing from Ratchet’s sharp glossa, he was likely recovering fine.
“You take a step off that berth and I’ll weld you to it.”
A static laced chuckle escaped Mirage at the mental image of Ratchet holding Hound down one handed as he used a welding torch to connect Hound’s aft to the berth. He could feel the shifting of a body and felt the presence of another at his side. “Are you awake, Mirage?” Ratchet asked as gentle fingers traced over his frame.
Mirage didn’t know if he could speak and instead made a soft sound of assent. He kept his optics off, as he knew if he turned them on he’d only be blinded by the med bay’s florescent lighting, and let Ratchet check him over.
“Your health appears to still be stable and your systems are already doing automatic repairs. You’re still heavily damaged, however, and you won’t be well enough to leave for the next two days. It’d best that you rest for now; you’ll heal faster that way. That goes for you too, Hound. You aren’t stepping out of this room until I say so.”
Mirage smiled and relaxed. When Ratchet seemed satisfied with his check on Mirage, he moved away and to whatever other task required his attention.
“It was a real relief to know you’d be alright,” Mirage heard Hound murmur, and realized he must have the berth next to him. “You’d be surprised how many visitors we’ve gotten, or potential visitors. Ratchet hasn’t really let many mechs in; I think he’s worried too much excitement would upset your recovery.”
Although Hound didn’t say it, Mirage could hear what he meant anyway. Ratchet was worried some of the mechs might display a negative attitude towards Mirage and hinder his recovery with their behavior.
“He’s let in the officers though, I got to talk to Trailbreaker for a while. He told me some of the stuff that happened when we were rescued; apparently the twins and Bluestreak did a real good job taking out the seekers. Looking at Bluestreak, you wouldn’t really think him to be so good with a rifle, maybe you two should try pitting yourselves against each other, it’d be interesting to see who’s a better shot. Prime and Jazz were also here earlier. Jazz was really relieved to see you’d be alright. He didn’t show it, but I think he was anxious to know you’d be fine. He was apparently with Blaster when I sent in the comm that you were captured. He tries to hide it behind all the joviality, but he does think of us as his responsibility, you even more-so because you’re still in training. Prime seemed interested in what happened with you after I was knocked out; wish I could’ve told him, but I don’t have any idea either…”
Mirage let the sound of Hound’s voice slowly lull him into recharge, ignoring the doubt that there’d be so much concern for him. He didn’t wish to dwell on the mingled hope and bitterness on the concern of others.
---
When Mirage next onlined, he did feel better than last time. He was still sore, but he could move some at least. He was even able to power up his optics and look around the med bay. There was nothing really new to the room, aside from Hound on the berth next to him reading a data pad.
“I didn’t take you for the reading sort,” Mirage said.
Hound looked up at Mirage’s voice and beamed. He put the pad in his lap and focused his attention on Mirage. “I do sometimes, when I find something that interests me. Besides, there’s not much else to do when there’s no one to talk to.”
“What are you reading?”
“An old file about the family structures of cyberwolves.”
“Where did you get such a file? I wouldn’t think such a thing would be preserved during these times.”
Hound shrugged and grinned sheepishly. “Mechs save what they can, archivists, researchers, and the sort would’ve wanted to save whatever information they could, whether it was the schematics of a rifle or the mating habits of mechanimals. There are computers set up in most bases with access to a lot of Cybertron’s history and culture, what’s been saved, at least.”
“I’ll have to look into what we have access to, then. How are you, by the way? The Decepticons had worked you over when I last saw you.”
“I’m doing better now. One of those ‘Cons managed to bust my fuel tank when they’d been beating me up, but Ratchet says that if the repairs hold until this evening, he’ll let me out. What happened while I was out? Did they discover you?”
Mirage offered a weak shrug. “Something of the sort. When they pulled you out of my sight, I had to follow. I couldn’t let them kill you.”
Hound grinned, and Mirage predicted the tease before he even said anything. “So, I’m not the only one for ‘idiot heroics’, am I?”
“What else was I to do? I couldn’t let them kill you. Although I was invisible, one of them still found me. I suppose he was able to figure out I’d come from the same alley as you’d been, and that I couldn’t have moved much after my first shots.”
“It was an infrared sensor actually. That’s how he said he found me right before they started going at me.” Hound’s typical cheer was replaced by a quieter, more contemplative look. “He was really set on you, Mirage. I’d even bet that sensor was so he could find you. Why would he be so focused on you?”
Mirage grimaced. “When the Towers were attacked, I took out any Decepticons I could. Recoil, that Decepticon, thought I may have been responsible for killing his brother. I wouldn’t even know, honestly. I didn’t take names while I was trying to shoot them. That attack is such a blur; I couldn’t describe a single mech I killed.” Mirage couldn’t hide the regret he felt about that, and Hound picked up on it.
“Does that bother you?”
“I don’t regret killing them, entirely, but they shouldn’t be faceless to me. I feel like their deaths should carry some weight. Despite how I come off, I don’t want to be that cold,” Mirage ended in a whisper. He looked away before he did something to embarrass himself.
“You’re not,” Hound replied without a trace of doubt in his tone. “If you were half as cold as you try to pretend you are, you wouldn’t have come after me, and you wouldn’t feel as burdened as you do about killing.”
Mirage nodded absently, still staring at the corner of Hound’s berth rather than at him. “Thank you.” A data pad was slid onto his berth and he looked back at Hound in bemusement. Hound was still holding his own pad, however.
“I asked Trailbreaker to drop a couple off for us, I didn’t know if you’d be up to much talking, but I didn’t want you lying in here with nothing to do. I don’t know what he put on your pad, but I figure anything’s better than nothing.”
Mirage nodded, stunned at the thoughtful gesture. He took the pad, feeling almost as much pain as appreciation at something so small. “Thank you, Hound, for thinking of me.”