This Love, This Hate: Aftermath Part 5
Everything was happening so fast.
At least, it felt as if it was. Perhaps it was some sort of effect from the past three months, where everything had large gaps of time between anything going on -- hours upon hours spent alone between action - but it now felt as if every time he lit his optics, something was going on.
Had he really only been back for a couple of days?
Cliffjumper sat back on the berth, absently playing with recently discovered buttons on the side. Every press sent the head of the berth either up or down; it was a distraction from the screen being set up nearby.
He had been given options; either being left ignorant of what Optimus Prime actually told the troops, watching the assembly from a distance via camera, or actually attending the assembly. Initially, he had been stunned that he had the ability to decide such a thing for himself, but, after a short moment of thought, he had decided on the camera.
He had wanted to know what everyone would be told, but sure as Pit didn’t want to actually be there for it. Not still looking the way that he did.
Bumblebee stayed with him. The yellow scout sat at his berthside, the worry splayed on his faceplate a constant presence since his arrival.
Wires were plugged in to the screen. Swoop had actually been told to put it up, much to Cliffjumpers’ surprise; he hadn’t even known that the dinobots could put together anything at all, let alone electronics. Still, the medic-in-training-and-apparent-technician seemed to know what he was doing.
After a while, a blare of static, both visual and audial, let itself out from the setup. Swoop grinned to himself, let out what sounded like a soft ‘caw’-like noise, and then pressed buttons on a remote control. After a few flickering images sped by, the clear view of an empty meeting hall was in plain sight.
Swoop appeared entirely too proud of himself; at least, as far as Cliffjumper was concerned. The remote was left by the berthside and, without a word or even a glance from the flying Autobot, Swoop rushed out of the room.
Cliffjumper snorted, finally settling against the propped up headrest. “This should be fun.”
Bumblebee held his hand; he hadn’t let go for hours. Cliffjumper had been surprised by how nice such a simple thing felt. It continued to amaze him how starved for attention he had been. “If you change your mind at any time..”
Cliffjumper shook his head. “No, it.. I think I need this. I need to know what the others’ll know.” Even if he had preferred that they know nothing at all.
It had taken a while to realize that he had wanted to keep it all private. It wasn’t the sort of thing he thought of at length while in captivity, even with the lack of distraction hours of solitude provided. What he had wanted, what he had truly wanted, was for Ratchet to just fix him up and to be sent on his way.
He had wanted everything to go back to normal. To go on as if the last few months hadn’t even happened; he had just wanted things to be normal again.
Normal, it seemed, was something he wasn’t going to get. Internally, he gave a bitter curse to Soundwave for what felt like the millionth time; if it hadn’t been for him, none of this would have happened at all. He wouldn’t have had to suffer.
He wouldn’t have had to deal with the aftermath, either.
“Pit, if people are gonna start treating me like I’m covered in scraplets, I wanna know what they know.”
Bumblebee frowned deeply. “I don’t think the others would -“
Cliffjumper gave his best friend a hard stare.
Bumblebee fell silent, shifting uncomfortably. He gave the hand he held a small squeeze.
Some noise came from the screen. Both minibots looked up at the sound; Autobots began to file in to the room from the double doors, talking quietly amongst themselves and sporting various degrees of confusion.
“Heh. No one’s figured it out.” Cliffjumper couldn’t help the slight smirk; however, it quickly vanished.
He was nervous. He knew that this was probably not going to be a pleasant thing to watch. He didn’t know what people were going to think.
He didn’t even know why he cared; there were very few people that he considered close friends, and he knew that they would understand. Bumblebee, at least, understood. He doubted that anyone would actually blame him for what had happened.
Then, why was he so nervous?
Seats were being filled up. As usual, various groups were formed amidst the portable folding chairs; by either luck or purposeful design, the rest of the minibots all sat together in an area that the camera had a clear view of. They were so close, Cliffjumper could clearly make out their bafflement at Bumblebee being missing; he could even hear Warpath asking where the yellow scout was, only to receive a few shrugs in response.
It took a few seemingly long minutes for the chairs to fill up. It wasn’t until then that he noticed that not one, but two chairs were empty amidst the minibots. Cliffjumper frowned at the sight.
“It was Windcharger’s idea.” He turned to look at Bumblebee; his friend seemed.. Embarrassed? “To leave a chair open for you, I mean. None of us really wanted to think that you were..” He looked away. “..You know. Gone.”
He wasn’t entirely certain how to respond to that. Although he wasn’t really surprised -- the minibots as a whole were fairly closely knit as a group - he hadn’t thought that they would put up such a visible display of their worry. “Huh.”
A few loud thumps came from the speakers. Then, the collected Autobots dulled down in to silence, all optics looking to a spot just off of the camera. It took a second more to realize that Optimus must have entered the room or at least called for attention in the silent sort of way that only he could pull off.
The seconds waiting for Optimus to speak felt like hours.
When he finally did, it was with the same cool, collected tone that he always had. A booming, somehow calming sound that echoed ever so slightly.
“Several solar cycles ago, many of you were asked to partake in a daring, dangerous assault against the Decepticons in their own home base. What you were all told was that it was a rescue mission, intended to take out an Autobot that had been held captive for an unknown, but assumed lengthy amount of time.”
There came a pause; the confusion on the masses settled to a sort of curiosity.
“Of course, with as many unknowns as there have been in regards to this thankfully successful mission, there have been rumors as to who this mystery Autobot may have been. I am pleased to confirm the rumors that the Autobot rescued from the Decepticons is, in fact, Cliffjumper.”
The reaction came swiftly and, to Cliffjumper, startlingly; curiosity quickly shifted in to shock and disbelief. What joy that there was seemed few and far between, and even that faded in to a fearful sort of anticipation.
What murmurs that there were faded quickly and all optics locked on their commander.
There came another few seconds of silence. Over the audio, Optimus Prime could be heard taking in a deep intake of breath.
“However.. I am also saddened to have to confirm the rumors that Cliffjumpers’ long months of captivity had been.. Intimate in nature.”
Several exclamations of shock rose from the masses. A few even shot to their feet, expressions of horror ringing clearly amidst the crowd.
The assembled minibots, however, were practically animated in their response. From where the camera was pointed, Cliffjumper could clearly see the fury on Warpath and Gears’ faces, the hands covering a horrified Windchargers’ mouth, and the absolutely shell-shocked Huffer actually leaning against a similarly stunned Pipes’ shoulder. Beachcomber looked ready to faint; Seaspray didn’t look much better.
He hadn’t known that they cared this much.
“Cliffjumper has, as you can well imagine, experienced severe damage. Ratchet has informed me that it will take months more to recover from the physical wounds alone. I ask that you all give him the respect and privacy needed for what he has been through. However, we also believe that Cliffjumper was not specifically targeted.”
The room had fallen in to a deathly silence; those that had stood slowly sat back down again.
“The Decepticons may be targeting Autobots that share Cliffjumpers’ class type. For this reason, I am ordering all Autobots that leave the ARK under any circumstances to stay in groups of at least three, and for all Class-M Autobots to not leave the ARK at all.”
Cliffjumper frowned in slight surprise; he would have thought that only those sharing his frame type would be held back. He supposed blanketing the danger helped a little; if they all thought that it could be any of them, it might make his life a little easier. It might not make it so much about him as all of them.
At least, he wasn’t sure how else to take it.
“Those that want to visit Cliffjumper as he recovers must speak with Ratchet first. However, I have been informed that, given enough time, he should make a complete recovery.” A breath. “Dismissed.”
Almost immediately, there came several startled yelps; Beachcomber had purged on the floor.
At least, it felt as if it was. Perhaps it was some sort of effect from the past three months, where everything had large gaps of time between anything going on -- hours upon hours spent alone between action - but it now felt as if every time he lit his optics, something was going on.
Had he really only been back for a couple of days?
Cliffjumper sat back on the berth, absently playing with recently discovered buttons on the side. Every press sent the head of the berth either up or down; it was a distraction from the screen being set up nearby.
He had been given options; either being left ignorant of what Optimus Prime actually told the troops, watching the assembly from a distance via camera, or actually attending the assembly. Initially, he had been stunned that he had the ability to decide such a thing for himself, but, after a short moment of thought, he had decided on the camera.
He had wanted to know what everyone would be told, but sure as Pit didn’t want to actually be there for it. Not still looking the way that he did.
Bumblebee stayed with him. The yellow scout sat at his berthside, the worry splayed on his faceplate a constant presence since his arrival.
Wires were plugged in to the screen. Swoop had actually been told to put it up, much to Cliffjumpers’ surprise; he hadn’t even known that the dinobots could put together anything at all, let alone electronics. Still, the medic-in-training-and-apparent-technician seemed to know what he was doing.
After a while, a blare of static, both visual and audial, let itself out from the setup. Swoop grinned to himself, let out what sounded like a soft ‘caw’-like noise, and then pressed buttons on a remote control. After a few flickering images sped by, the clear view of an empty meeting hall was in plain sight.
Swoop appeared entirely too proud of himself; at least, as far as Cliffjumper was concerned. The remote was left by the berthside and, without a word or even a glance from the flying Autobot, Swoop rushed out of the room.
Cliffjumper snorted, finally settling against the propped up headrest. “This should be fun.”
Bumblebee held his hand; he hadn’t let go for hours. Cliffjumper had been surprised by how nice such a simple thing felt. It continued to amaze him how starved for attention he had been. “If you change your mind at any time..”
Cliffjumper shook his head. “No, it.. I think I need this. I need to know what the others’ll know.” Even if he had preferred that they know nothing at all.
It had taken a while to realize that he had wanted to keep it all private. It wasn’t the sort of thing he thought of at length while in captivity, even with the lack of distraction hours of solitude provided. What he had wanted, what he had truly wanted, was for Ratchet to just fix him up and to be sent on his way.
He had wanted everything to go back to normal. To go on as if the last few months hadn’t even happened; he had just wanted things to be normal again.
Normal, it seemed, was something he wasn’t going to get. Internally, he gave a bitter curse to Soundwave for what felt like the millionth time; if it hadn’t been for him, none of this would have happened at all. He wouldn’t have had to suffer.
He wouldn’t have had to deal with the aftermath, either.
“Pit, if people are gonna start treating me like I’m covered in scraplets, I wanna know what they know.”
Bumblebee frowned deeply. “I don’t think the others would -“
Cliffjumper gave his best friend a hard stare.
Bumblebee fell silent, shifting uncomfortably. He gave the hand he held a small squeeze.
Some noise came from the screen. Both minibots looked up at the sound; Autobots began to file in to the room from the double doors, talking quietly amongst themselves and sporting various degrees of confusion.
“Heh. No one’s figured it out.” Cliffjumper couldn’t help the slight smirk; however, it quickly vanished.
He was nervous. He knew that this was probably not going to be a pleasant thing to watch. He didn’t know what people were going to think.
He didn’t even know why he cared; there were very few people that he considered close friends, and he knew that they would understand. Bumblebee, at least, understood. He doubted that anyone would actually blame him for what had happened.
Then, why was he so nervous?
Seats were being filled up. As usual, various groups were formed amidst the portable folding chairs; by either luck or purposeful design, the rest of the minibots all sat together in an area that the camera had a clear view of. They were so close, Cliffjumper could clearly make out their bafflement at Bumblebee being missing; he could even hear Warpath asking where the yellow scout was, only to receive a few shrugs in response.
It took a few seemingly long minutes for the chairs to fill up. It wasn’t until then that he noticed that not one, but two chairs were empty amidst the minibots. Cliffjumper frowned at the sight.
“It was Windcharger’s idea.” He turned to look at Bumblebee; his friend seemed.. Embarrassed? “To leave a chair open for you, I mean. None of us really wanted to think that you were..” He looked away. “..You know. Gone.”
He wasn’t entirely certain how to respond to that. Although he wasn’t really surprised -- the minibots as a whole were fairly closely knit as a group - he hadn’t thought that they would put up such a visible display of their worry. “Huh.”
A few loud thumps came from the speakers. Then, the collected Autobots dulled down in to silence, all optics looking to a spot just off of the camera. It took a second more to realize that Optimus must have entered the room or at least called for attention in the silent sort of way that only he could pull off.
The seconds waiting for Optimus to speak felt like hours.
When he finally did, it was with the same cool, collected tone that he always had. A booming, somehow calming sound that echoed ever so slightly.
“Several solar cycles ago, many of you were asked to partake in a daring, dangerous assault against the Decepticons in their own home base. What you were all told was that it was a rescue mission, intended to take out an Autobot that had been held captive for an unknown, but assumed lengthy amount of time.”
There came a pause; the confusion on the masses settled to a sort of curiosity.
“Of course, with as many unknowns as there have been in regards to this thankfully successful mission, there have been rumors as to who this mystery Autobot may have been. I am pleased to confirm the rumors that the Autobot rescued from the Decepticons is, in fact, Cliffjumper.”
The reaction came swiftly and, to Cliffjumper, startlingly; curiosity quickly shifted in to shock and disbelief. What joy that there was seemed few and far between, and even that faded in to a fearful sort of anticipation.
What murmurs that there were faded quickly and all optics locked on their commander.
There came another few seconds of silence. Over the audio, Optimus Prime could be heard taking in a deep intake of breath.
“However.. I am also saddened to have to confirm the rumors that Cliffjumpers’ long months of captivity had been.. Intimate in nature.”
Several exclamations of shock rose from the masses. A few even shot to their feet, expressions of horror ringing clearly amidst the crowd.
The assembled minibots, however, were practically animated in their response. From where the camera was pointed, Cliffjumper could clearly see the fury on Warpath and Gears’ faces, the hands covering a horrified Windchargers’ mouth, and the absolutely shell-shocked Huffer actually leaning against a similarly stunned Pipes’ shoulder. Beachcomber looked ready to faint; Seaspray didn’t look much better.
He hadn’t known that they cared this much.
“Cliffjumper has, as you can well imagine, experienced severe damage. Ratchet has informed me that it will take months more to recover from the physical wounds alone. I ask that you all give him the respect and privacy needed for what he has been through. However, we also believe that Cliffjumper was not specifically targeted.”
The room had fallen in to a deathly silence; those that had stood slowly sat back down again.
“The Decepticons may be targeting Autobots that share Cliffjumpers’ class type. For this reason, I am ordering all Autobots that leave the ARK under any circumstances to stay in groups of at least three, and for all Class-M Autobots to not leave the ARK at all.”
Cliffjumper frowned in slight surprise; he would have thought that only those sharing his frame type would be held back. He supposed blanketing the danger helped a little; if they all thought that it could be any of them, it might make his life a little easier. It might not make it so much about him as all of them.
At least, he wasn’t sure how else to take it.
“Those that want to visit Cliffjumper as he recovers must speak with Ratchet first. However, I have been informed that, given enough time, he should make a complete recovery.” A breath. “Dismissed.”
Almost immediately, there came several startled yelps; Beachcomber had purged on the floor.