Star-crossed: Off the Deep End (35/37)
Title Star-Crossed: Off the Deep End (35/37) (Finale Part 1 of 3)
Pairing/Characters Prowl/Sideswipe, Jazz
Rating M
Summary We can never control who we fall in love with. Those determined to be together will let nothing stand in their way. This is one such pair.
Author’s Note: It’s been over 30 chapters, since ‘Offline’, I figured a little reminder didn’t hurt. Also, attempting to fit lyrics to the finale, forgive any butchering?
I lie awake beside the windowsill
Like a flower in a vase
A moment caught in glass…
The rays of sunlight come and beckon me
To a sleepy dreamy haze
A sense of summer days…
Where was Ratchet.... Ironhide... Brawn? Primus where was Prowl?
It all blurred together.
Black fingers caressed the cold, ash grey crown.
His brother's voice mingled with the soft tones of another. His mangled audio receptors distorted their words past the point of recognition. But it didn't matter, not anymore.
“You know what he meant? How could you? How could you know anything? How could youknow that I-“
He loved him, and it had all been taken away. One blinding flash, he understood that phrase, oh how he understood it. But never in relation to Prowl. It was Sunstreaker, always Sunny, who could be gone in that one blinding flash. A shot. An explosion. Under the enraged hands of the Decepticons.
But never Prowl.
He couldn’t remember Prowl’s smile... that rare laugh... that warm, gentle touch...
Prowl had been the only other constant in his life besides Sunstreaker.
'Slaggit, Prowl, I'm the fragging warrior! Why... you?'
He's gone... He's gone. He's gone!
Sideswipe crumpled to the ground again, dragging the two mechs trying to support his dead weight down. Static keened out of his vocalizer, a restrained scream, unvoiced words that could never be spoken to the one that deserved them.
A fist pounded his back, and his ventilators jumped online in response. A gasp squeezed past his lips, drawing desperately needed air in to cool his heated systems. Pain spiked in his arms, but that was a distant thought to the agony that twisted his spark. That coiled in a nauseous ball in the pit of his fuel tank.
Fuel was forced through his lines, pumped from an outside source.
Oh Primus. Oh, Primus. They were making him live. Didn't they know? Didn't Sunny understand? He had nothing, now. Nothing! It all lay in the cold corpse on that shuttle. What use was it to try anymore when the thing he held dearest to him, the only thing he asked for from this thankless existence would no longer greet him with a twitch of his doorwings? Something so fragile and tenuous that it had all crumbled to rust and dust in his hands when a single mech had shaken their world.
He didn't want to continue. Oh Primus, he hurt! He hurt! He wanted to die! Why couldn't they just...
“Fragging leave me alone!” The transfusion lines ripped free from his arm, spilling energon across the ground, and across his plating. He shoved away from his brother and the medic attending him. His systems responded sluggishly, lack of fuel combined with emotional shock sending minor systems into shut down.
A golden blur suddenly rolled him onto his back, and Sideswipe snarled up at Sunstreaker, as his brother shook him viciously. His brother clutched at him through their bond, the stress on his systems evident in the flickering of his optics. He screamed at Sideswipe, but the words were lost in feedback. His fingers dug into the red twin's shoulders, the empty latches that held the launcher in place. And he continued to shake Sideswipe, screaming the whole time.
Sideswipe didn't need to hear the words to know what they were. He could make out the sense of them easily enough through their bond. Don't you slagging do this!
“He's gone,” the words came out in a whisper he only heard in the vibrations of his frame, crackling and glitching, choked with grief, “He's gone, he's gone he's gone he's gone...”
The yellow arms slid around him, clutching the red mech to the golden chestplate. Sunstreaker hugged Sideswipe tightly, his head on the red twin's shoulder. He rocked Sideswipe, his garbled words rumbling through his chestplate. I'm not!
How could you do that, Sunny?
Sideswipe clung to his brother, feeling golden plating give under his fingers. He shook, vision flickering with static. It shouldn't hurt so much. He tightened his grip on Sunstreaker as the medic, First Aid, tried to pry him away. Must everything be taken from him by force? Was he not allowed peace? Even his own brother denied it of him. Forced him to stay where he did not want to be.
With his hand no longer crushing his audio horns, his self-repair systems kicked in, and words filtered through the static.
“Sunny... happened?”
Sideswipe hunched himself down, aware of the lines being reattached to his arm. His brother's grip tightened on him, his head turned to look at the medic; indistinguishable words rumbling through his frame.
“...anything... is privileged information.”
“I can't,” Sunstreaker moaned, rocking Sideswipe. “I can't, I can't I can't...” His grip tightened on his brother's frame. 'Please, Sides, let me tell him. He can help, he wants to help. Don't do this to me.'
Don't do this? What the slag was Sunny talking about? He wasn't the one who’d had everything he had worked toward dashed into the smelting pit without a thought? “Don't do what?” He snarled at his brother. Sideswipe shoved Sunstreaker away, physically, mentally, curling into a heaving, shaking ball. “Do what to you, Sunny? He's dead! What does that have to do with you? Why would you care about that? He's dead! He's dead, he's dead, he's dead, he's dead.” Sideswipe petered off, rocking back and forth as the words repeated themselves in his processor, shredding through his spark, so like those times he'd known Sunny sat on the edge of death.
He didn't want to see First Aid's reaction. He didn't want to see the surprise. He didn't want the damned Protectobot's pity!
They were making him live, but that didn't mean he had to face life without Prowl. He didn't have to watch the world go by.
He would never remember the ride back to the Autobot City. He would never remember being unloaded or the harried rush to take him into medical.
He knew, peripherally at least, that Sunstreaker was a constant by his side. But he couldn't bring himself out of his funk to care.
Not when Prowl still lived and moved and laughed within his memories. Not when he could still hear the tactician's voice, see the flicker of his optics, feel the caress of white hands that knew exactly where and when to stroke all played out in his processor. He played them through, reliving every byte of memory that contained his lover. From the first lectures, long archived and corrupted with age and new input, to the last memories he had of Prowl, seen through Sunstreaker's optics; broken and depleted. He relived their fights, the anger, the betrayal.
They were all he had left of Prowl now.
Memories that he sorted and filtered and filed and archived. He ran defrag after defrag, not wanting any of their parts to be separated from the whole. He ran more defrags than was considered safe, and still he ran some more.
And he hurt, he hurt like he never thought possible if it didn't involve his brother. Yet, that too was a fragment of Prowl that he clung to; a connection he never realized existed or had so desperately craved.
For it hurt deep in his spark, in the part of himself that he'd tried to give to the tactician eons ago, a lifetime ago. A time so distant, that he no longer was sure it was real, though the scene played clearly in his processor, the pain as real in his mind as it was at the time.
Sometimes his pain would morph into the blackest rage. And he just wanted to strike something, to grab the golden mech that stood beside him, always beside him, and scream at him that it was all. His. Fault. But he couldn't do it, because the real reason was nowhere near, and patterned so similarly to his Prowl... Sideswipe didn't know if he could bear to see the slagging retrograde.
He floundered for an untold amount of time, systems regulated by outside forces, unwelcome invaders when he had no reason to continue.
Still a small part of him, the part that existed outside of his own frame, protested. 'What about me?' And he turned his back to that part.
So lost in his processor was he, lost in the memories of a black and white mech whose rare smile lit every circuitboard in his body, that Sideswipe dreamed. He dreamed of white hands that soothed his aches, and white hands that caressed over his audio horns and cheekguards. White hands that passed over his waking vision. White hands in front of a grey face, and suddenly Sideswipe jolted online. Fully online for the first time in... weeks? Months? His chronometer had frozen in the agonizing stupor that grin its state of disuse and ill repair.
Prowl's optics lit up when Sideswipe focused on him. A keening whimper burst out of a vocalizer that hadn't seen use for too long. The black and white mech pulled his hands away, crooked smile showing relief. Sideswipe caught the hand, unable to say anything past the glitch that caught his vocalizer at every attempt to speak, but not wanting to lose the feel of his lover's hand in his. His mouth moved and he pushed himself up, and reached out his other hand to cup Prowl's cheek.
Confusion pulled Prowl's mouth into a frown, widened his optics. The optics blinked, and suddenly...
His optics darkened and Prowl's beautiful paint job dissolved to the grey of death.
"No!" Sideswipe yanked his hand back, yanked his body away from the specter of his lover. Sideswipe screamed, lashing out, kicking the apparition away. He missed and the dead hand caught his ankle.
It reached for him, lips moving with the warrior's name. “Siiiddeessss….” the deception breathed, dead optics full of concern.
Sideswipe shoved the thing away. “No, no no! You’re dead!” He tumbled to the floor, sluggish processor not understanding why dead-Prowl suddenly loomed over him, fright pulsing through his limbs and pushing him away. “You’re dead, you’re dead you’re dead! You can’t be here.”
Hurt flashed across the stoic face, and Prowl moved around the table, still reaching for the warrior. “What is it? What’s wrong? Talk to me, it’s me it’s-“
“Bluestreak!” Prowl spun about toward the sound of that voice. “What the frag did I tell you? Get the slag outta here!" Sunstreaker stalked up to the phantom figure, his expression thunderous.
“But, Sides... He's online…” The tone…. That wasn’t Prowl.
Sideswipe moved back another eight feet, watching the vision of Prowl melt into Bluestreak’s familiar, undesired face. The small spark that had hoped, if only for an astrosecond, fizzled and guttered and faded away to nothing more than the memory that he had lost himself in.
“I see that, but you’re not helping. Get out!” Sunstreaker shoved Bluestreak away from the medical berth, away from Sideswipe.
“What’s going on here?” First Aid came out of the office, his visor flashing.
“Get out!” Sunstreaker swatted at Bluestreak again, advancing on the gunner another step, his dental plates bared in a snarl. “Get. Out!
Bluestreak looked between the two brothers with wide optics before he beat a hasty retreat.
Sideswipe watched the door panels vanish through the doorway, for a nanosecond, his vision fritzed and the panels turned black and white. A buzz shivered through Sideswipe’s systems, and he pressed his back against the wall. Sunstreaker turned his glowing optics on the red mech and the snarl faded from his face.
Sideswipe couldn’t get his systems to respond as Sunstreaker crouched next to him. He couldn’t coordinate himself to stand, to push his brother away, or embrace him. He didn't even know which he wanted. Sunstreaker pulled him away from the wall, and into his arms.
“You idiot. What the slag made you think that was…” Sunstreaker trailed off, tightening his grip around Sideswipe.
First Aid stood behind Sunstreaker, his visor dim. “Did you have to be so crass about it, Sunny?”
Sunstreaker turned his head to glance at the medic. “I told Blue to leave Sideswipe the frag alone! He can go to the Pits if he doesn’t listen.”
Sideswipe didn’t relax against his brother, Prowl still haunted his memories, reaching for him, his name on the grey lips. Red plating clanked together as he shook, unable to stop himself. Primus, why was this happening to him? What had he done to deserve this?
“It’s good to see you lucid, finally.” First Aid knelt next to Sunstreaker, scans pinging off of Sideswipe’s systems. “You shouldn’t be moving, I still need to run a diagnostic. Can you stand?”
Sideswipe stared at Ratchet’s apprentice…. Oh Primus, Ratchet was dead! And Ironhide, and slagging Brawn they were dead. He remembered their cold corpses from what seems ages ago.
… and… Prowl…
He was…
Sideswipe jerked away from the two mechs, unable to process and finish that thought. It couldn’t be true. Couldn’t…
“- you save them?”
First Aid paused, his fingers reaching for Sideswipe’s shoulder. “What?”
Pleading blue optics stared up at the red and white medic so like his mentor. “Couldn’t you save them?”
First Aid withdrew his hand, pulling away from the brothers. “I-“
Sunstreaker’s engine grumbled, belying his even tone. “Sides, they were gone before the shuttle even crashed. Don’t put the blame on him.“ The high performance Lamborghini engine growled. “It’s not his fault!”
Sideswipe stared out at the medbay. Unbidden, the image of gray frames carried by reverent hands passed through his processor. They’d brought the bodies here. He snapped his optics off, but the image remained unwanted. Oh, Primus, why did he have to remember that?
“Then whose fault is it?”
Yellow knuckles slammed into the floor by Sunstreaker's leg. “You don't have to ask that, Sides,” Sunstreaker snarled, face twisted in hate and anger. “You know damned full well who's to blame.” The golden twin looked up from glaring at the floor. “The slagger's still on Cybertron.”
Confusion furrowed First Aid's brow. “What are you talking about? The Decepticons aren't on Cybertron anymore, we won it back.”
“I'm not talking about the slagging 'Cons, Aid.”
“But it was the 'Cons that killed...”
A single sparkbeat of data had Sideswipe lunging for the medic. He threw the ambulance down and seized a handful of neck cables. Black fingers squeezed until First Aid's vocalizer buzzed with strain. “How much have you told him, Sunny?”
White hands scrabbled at the armored back of Sideswipe's hand. Noises sputtered out of the vocalizer clenched between the black fingers.
Sunstreaker's hard stare briefly slid toward the medic before centering his gaze back on his brother. “Not one slagging thing that he couldn't figure out on his own.”
Understanding lit through Sideswipe's processor and a bitter laugh burst from Sideswipe's vocalizer. 'You idiot,' he snarled at his brother. He couldn't find it in him to feel sympathy for his brother, not right then, not when it still felt like a piece of his spark had been ripped out. How could Sunny be so selfish when his brother was still hurting and couldn't even show it?
Yet...
Sideswipe couldn't hurt his twin, no matter that he hurt so much himself. His grip on the medic ease. Sunstreaker was all he had left to love. All he was allowed to love.
Hydraulics that hadn't seen use in far too long hissed in protest to all the sudden demands. Sideswipe sluggishly shoved himself away from the two mechs. Oh Primus, he couldn't deal with this.
He couldn't bear to look at these two, so like him and Prowl. He couldn't stand First Aid's pitying gaze anymore.
Sideswipe twisted around, clawing his way up the nearest wall. He had to get out.
But his systems wouldn't respond as they should and he staggered. Sunstreaker caught him, heated glare vanished and replaced by concern. First Aid placed a staying hand on the red chestplate, his touch radiating the worry that his mask and visor couldn't express.
“You're still malfunctioning, Sides. I haven't been able to bring you out of standby since we found you. You need to refuel and recharge.”
Sideswipe glared at the medic before turning to his brother.
Sunstreaker's tight grip answered before he even opened his mouth.
With a savage snarl Sideswipe wrested his arm out of Sunstreaker's grip and pushed past them, his legs heavy and weak.
The doors whooshed open and Sideswipe nearly shut down as Prowl's specter waited on the other side, jumping as the door moved.
“Sides!”
A black hand smacked at the large red button marked 'Close', the doors obeying at a seemingly accelerated rate. Sideswipe pedaled away from the door to put as much distance between himself and the phantom. He shook, gears rotating without his consent; his ventilators hitched, the fans stuttering and unable to turn and draw in the air necessary to cool his systems. His optics burned, taking in too much detail at once. Foot falls resounded in his audio sensors and he looked up at Sunstreaker's concerned face.
“Sides, come on, listen to the slagging medic for once. Look at yourself. You can't walk, you can barely stand.”
Sideswipe shook his head. “No.” He wrested control of his circuitry from the fear that shook him down to his spark and stalked past his brother. The door opened before him, once again revealing Prowl's specter-no Bluestreak. Revealing Bluestreak waiting there, his doorwings hanging in his shock and optics brightening on seeing Sideswipe step out of the medbay.
“Sideswipe!”
Sideswipe clenched his fists at his sides as he stalked past, darkening his optics so he couldn't see the relief written on the gunner/Prowl's face. Prowl was dead, this wasn't Prowl.
“Um.. Sides... where...” Bluestreak shifted, gears humming as he turned around, his whisper reaching Sideswipe's overly sensitive audio receptors. “Sunny where's Sides going?”
“Sides is going the wrong way is where he’s going. We’re in Autobot City, dummy, quarters are that way.” Sunstreaker's finger jabbed down the hall.
“If…” Fingers curled around Sideswipe’s shoulder, but he didn’t have to look to see who it was. And he stiffened at the unwanted touch. “If you’re still feeling confused maybe you shouldn’t be leaving the medbay yet.” Sideswipe turned toward the grey mech, ire heating his systems. Bluestreak smiled at him, his optics still dim in dejection, then he turned his head toward the golden brother. “Don’t you agree, Sunny?”
“Blue…”
“Get your slagging hand off me.”
The gunner’s optics blinked in confusion.
Sideswipe whirled suddenly, his fist swinging toward Bluestreak’s cheek.
Bluestreak only had time to jerk back a little, though not nearly enough to dodge the incoming fist. Time moved like a thick gel to Sideswipe's befuddled systems, and he saw in nearly crystal clarity
every minute dentline in Bluestreak's face. The miniscule changes of expression as he watched Sideswipe's fist approach. Lights in the hallway flashed across the red angles of his chevron.
Bluestreak's optics darkened, their lights fading to a nearly complete indigo.
And he waited, dental plates gritted and bared for the powerful blow.
Gears ground to a halt, hydraulics screeching with a sudden command to stop. Feedback rushed through a racing system, the engine stalling at the unexpected demand.
Sideswipe's vision flickered, static breaking up the perfect face before him, so different, yet too alike for him to strike.
The black fist pulled away and dropped to Sideswipe's side. The red twin glared at the Datsun before he turned down the hallway, once again heading for his room.
The grey gunner stayed where Sideswipe left him, though his gaze pressed heavily on the warrior's back. He could hear the hiss of vent his systems and gears whining with despair. Then footsteps carried Bluestreak's presence down the corridor, heading the opposite direction of the red mech.
Sideswipe, didn't stop. Right then, he couldn't care less.
~*~*~*~
The door chimed.
After receiving no response, it chimed again.
The double tone managed to convey a sense of impatience. Sounding, to Sideswipe's receivers at least, like an imperious 'O-pen'.
He thought about acknowledging the query, even with a shouted 'Go away!', but he couldn't bring himself to even run the lines of code that would require, much less to open his mouth. Even though he had left the medic's care, Sideswipe still did not feel whole, and pain still pulsed through his spark, illogical (Ha!) as it seemed since he knew Sunstreaker was currently in the rec room.
The third chime never came; instead the door slid open admitting whoever stood on the other side.
Sideswipe didn't bother turning to face the mech, figuring it to be an officer, though too short to be Prime or Ultra Magnus, and Jazz had yet to return. If it was First Aid coming to pester him again, the mech could frag himself. Anyone else could shove their orders up their tailpipes so far that they'd have to drag themselves to medical and beg Primus to live through extracting the orders from sensitive areas...
The imagery actually pulled at Sideswipe's lips into an almost smile. A sigh heaving from his vents as it faded as quickly as it formed. It didn't feel right to be happy not when...
“Is this where you’ve been hiding? Like some human child, just laying there and pouting?”
Every joint in Sideswipe’s body tensed at the sound of that particular voice. Anger surged through his vocalizer and he found the will to snarl over his shoulder at his unwanted visitor. “Get the slag out, Springer.”
The whine of hydraulics coming to a rest stated Springer’s intent to do exactly the opposite of Sideswipe’s demand. “I don’t think so, you see, there’s a problem, and I’m here to deal with that problem.”
“Ask if I give a frag about any of you or your problems.”
Springer’s vocalizer clicked, and metal scraped and clanged like he was crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, now, that right there is the problem. We have a soldier who abandoned his base, and needed the CMO to go fetch him when other mechs needed his attention. Then that soldier lays in medical for over a year and the CMO can't even figure out what's wrong with him. He finally and suddenly comes out of his apparently self-initiated stasis lock and nobody on the command staff hears from him.”
“So they sent you. You came. Now get the frag out.”
Springer shifted and then his steps announced his approach. “Well, I sent myself really. Since Aid couldn't get you off your skidplate, it was either me, or Magnus, and you wouldn't want Magnus coming for you, would you Sides?”
“What the frag is it to you anyways?”
A hand clapped onto Sideswipe's shoulder and pushed it down to turn him to face the frowning triplechanger, his burning optics revealing the extent of his displeasure. “What the frag is your problem Sideswipe? Slaggit, do you think you're the only one who's had their life turned upside down?” A dry laugh followed on the tail of that comment. “All you lost was some pains in your aft! Frag it, you'd almost think someone had killed Sunny with the way you're carrying on.”
Something within Sideswipe snapped and he launched himself, howling, at the green mech. He exchanged his arms out for his piledrivers almost without thought, almost without realizing it until one of them smashed Springer across his fragging cheekguard, bending the metal, the hard edge of the driver slicing over the triplechanger's face. Springer staggered, buzzing with a pained groan. Then he straightened, optics flashing in anger. His foot crashed into the red chestplate, the powerful kick crumpling the metal and Sideswipe’s diagnostics flared red in alarm.
The red mech slumped to the floor, already low reserves spent, but he still leveled a fierce glare at the triplechanger.
Springer bent over him, anger washed away by concerned. “If you’re damaged, stay in medical. Right now you’re on active duty, and not showing up for your shifts. Ultra Magnus has half a mind to discharge you for abandoning your post. Where will that leave Sunstreaker? Have you thought about how your actions are affecting him? Do you ever consider Sunny? He's supposed to be your brother! But you just mope around like his opinions, his wants, his future doesn't matter to you!” Springer gestured sharply toward Sideswipe, his green hand snapping just in front of the downed mech's face. “Do you go around and make all his decisions for him? Approve every little action? Censor any thought that doesn't process the way you want?” The officer's blue optics burned with a fury Sideswipe hadn't seen since he'd told Sunstreaker that he would not bond with the triplechanger. Though the exchange had never been in words.
Sideswipe stared at the green mech, low energy warnings flashing in his HUD. Words finally dragged from his vocalizer, the sounds hissing and buzzing from his throat.
“It was Sunny's decision...” Sideswipe had offered to transfer, he knew Prowl would have approved rather than break the twins up. Sunstreaker had refused; the trip would be short, they wouldn't be gone long. “He wanted to...” He wanted to make Sideswipe happy...
Springer tensed, his fingers clenched into tight fists at his side. The officer reached down and dragged Sideswipe to his feet. “I'll send a medic down to the brig.”
Brig?
Springer snorted, slinging one of Sideswipe's arms over his shoulder. “You didn't think you could assault an officer and get away with it? Prowl would be disappointed in you.”
Pain squeezed any words tight into Sideswipe's vocalizer. He looked away from Springer, though the words reverberated through his processor and almost made him want to laugh, even though his optics flickered with statics.
'You would be disappointed in me, wouldn't you sparkles?'
~*~*~*~
Sideswipe hesitated just outside the door. He didn't have to hear to know what his brother was doing inside their quarters. He didn't have to ask to find out who his brother was with. The name whispered over their link, had been whispering far longer than Sideswipe had truthfully been paying attention to, lost in his grief.
Anger sliced through him, curling his fingers into claws that he scraped down the metal of the locked door. He pounded his access code into the keypad and barged into the room.
Sunstreaker sat at the foot of his berth, his blue optics already on the door. Propped up on his elbows First Aid turned in surprise, visor flashing at seeing Sideswipe enter. They looked to be having a simple conversation, but Sideswipe knew better. Their engines ran hot, ventilators rushing with excitement. White scraped across Sunstreaker's chestplate, even the glass of his windshield, evidence of their more intimate actions.
First Aid sat up, planting his feet on the floor, balanced to stand quickly. “Sideswipe, is everything okay?” The medic rocked to his feet, stepping lightly over to the red warrior and laying a hand on a shoulder tire. “Are you still malfunctioning?””
Sideswipe glared at the medic, taking the white hand and shoving it off his tire. “Get out.”
First Aid sputtered, then stiffened. “This is Sunstreaker's quarters as well, Sideswipe. I'm here visiting him-”
Sideswipe took a single menacing step toward the medic, looming over the smaller mech. “I said get out.”
Sunstreaker jumped to his feet, moving First Aid to the side before seizing his brother's arm. “Slagger, what the frag do you think you're doing? You don't like Aid in here, than you can slagging get out yourself.” The golden mech yanked Sideswipe closer, his voice dropping to a near hiss. “Isn't that what we always agreed to do if we don't like the other's company? When you had Prowl in here...”
A black hand lashed out, knocking the golden Lamborghini's hand away. Rage choked his intakes, surged through his vocalizer in a burst of sound, and he snatched at one of his brother's vents.
Sunstreaker snarled, blocking Sideswipe's hand. “You keep this up, bro, and I'll make sure you can't move for a few decacycles!”
First Aid suddenly stepped between them, shoving Sideswipe back. “That's enough of this! Do you think I'm just going to stand by while you two beat the circuits out of each other?” The CMO lifted a placating hand as Sideswipe's optics brightened. “I realize that Prowl was important to you, but-”
Sideswipe whipped the ambulance about, fingers pressing into the white mask. “What the frag do you know?” He threw First Aid into the wall, only managing to take a single step toward him before Sunstreaker crashed into him.
Sideswipe, his systems returned to normal operating status, took the weight and propelled his brother to the ground. A black knee smashed down onto Sunstreaker's chest, pinning the golden twin.
Sunstreaker, growled, his engine vibrating Sideswipe's frame. He grabbed Sideswipe's arms, tossing his brother with the ease of many practice sessions. “You slagger, you're going after the wrong mech! It's not Aid's fault!”
First Aid moved toward Sunstreaker, but the golden twin halted the medic with a hand.
“I'll see you later Aid. I gotta deal with this right now.”
First Aid hesitated.
“Go!”
Sideswipe watched the mech back out of the door, heard him reassure the curious mechs standing just outside of their door. He stared at the door, optics wide in shock as no one questioned the CMO's presence in the twins' quarters.
The door hissed shut and Sideswipe slid a glare at his brother, emotions he couldn't put words to churning through his processor.
Sunstreaker straightened from his crouch and approached Sideswipe, his steps slow and cautious. He knelt next to the red mech, not touching Sideswipe, though he leaned in close. “Sides...”
“What the frag are you thinking? Didn’t you learn anything from what happened? Why the slag are you putting yourself through this? He just waltzed out there! What kind of stupid afthead is he? Doesn’t he know what will happen if anyone finds out? You sure as slag should!“
Sunstreaker glared at Sideswipe, and his chin lifted a little in defiance. “Prime knows.”
“…what?”
A golden hand flicked the concern away. “He’s okay with it.”
Suddenly on his feet, Sideswipe staggered, shock jolting through him. “What?”
“I should say, Ultra Magnus doesn’t like it. But Rodimus is okay with it,” Sunstreaker looked away as he grumbled, “not that he has room to talk.”
Sideswipe’s vocalizer clicked on and off a few times before he finally managed to ask his next question. “Who??”
“Rodimus Prime, you-Oh slaggitall, Sides! Haven’t you read any of the sitreps?”
Sideswipe pressed his lips together, moving away from Sunstreaker to climb onto the abandoned berth. “Been a little preoccupied.”
“Fraggit. Optimus died when the Decepticons swarmed over the City. Slagging Hot Rod got the Matrix, and now he’s slotting Rodimus Prime.” Sunstreaker leaned in suddenly. “He doesn’t give a frag who the officers fraternize with as long as their job’s getting done.”
Sideswipe's gaze didn't leave his brother's turning those words over in his processor.
“You idiot! Jazz is scheduled to return in a few weeks you can take out all your frustration then!”
Sideswipe didn't ease his heated stare, didn't respond to his brother's words.
“You slagger, I never bothered you when you were 'facing with Prowl! You knew! I know you knew! Why the slag did you go and do that?” Sunstreaker took a step forward, shoving his brother's shoulder. “Dammit, answer me Sides!” Sunstreaker ground his dental plates together, his already thin patience worn completely down to nothing.
Golden knuckles crashed into the red twin's face, slamming Sideswipe into the wall.
“Don't you dare go catatonic on me again!”
Sideswipe shoved off the wall, throwing himself at his brother. They tumbled to the floor, pushing and shoving and throwing fists and blocking blows.
“You were supposed to protect him! You were supposed to keep that slagmaker from getting his hands on him!” Sideswipe pinned his brother to the floor and pounded at his brother's face.
“I couldn't do anything! He wasn't letting me! He wasn't talking to me, Sides!” Sunstreaker managed to throw his brother off. “You fragger, I did what I could, but he didn't want my help!”
Sideswipe rubbed at a scrap along his chin, the metal of his face bent nearly double. He glared at the floor, unable to call his brother a liar when the truth sat on his face, when he knew Prowl, knew his pride, knew his mannerisms.
Prowl wouldn't ask for help.
His ventilators stuttered and he curled into himself. His optics shorted out and his vocalizer hitched against his words. Again, and again he had failed his lover. When Prowl had needed him he hadn't been there. Had everything Prowl had gone through been worth the snatched moments spent together, and so often those moments had been filled with refreshing memories of just how they'd felt together? He knew Prowl needed the release just as much as he did, he knew that Prowl had been very patient and considerate of Sideswipe's unusual demands.
Sideswipe clutched at the golden shoulder that had shoved him out of his pathetic ball. He couldn't stop his hands from trembling; he couldn't quite make out the face that scowled down at him. A hand that had been intent on returning blow for blow not even a breem before, lightly caressed his seams. Sideswipe sat there for a long time, his chronometer seeming to glitch ahead. And the entire time, Sunstreaker sat with him, not saying a word. And for brief spans of time, Sideswipe almost convinced himself that it was Prowl.
~*~*~*~
Sideswipe finally started dragging his aft out of his room, halfheartedly attending duty shifts, aware of everyone's optics on him. Sideswipe ignored them, ignored the questions after his well-being, where he’d been, what happened, what brought him back, “Are you even listening, Sides?”
Sideswipe turned his blank gaze on Streetwise and the Protectobot threw his hands into the air in exasperation and stormed away.
An energon cube hung from lax fingers, pink liquid slowly tipping out of the sagging corner.
Another hand swooped in suddenly' snatching the cube from Sideswipe's grip and downing the energon in one hasty gulp. “Guess who we just unloaded.” As quickly as he appeared, Sunstreaker moved away from Sideswipe's table as though he hadn't said a word to his brother.
Sideswipe stared at his now empty cube; his processor running the barest of functions before every system spiked and he surged to his feet. Swift steps carried him out of the rec room and down the hall. Every footfall jolted servomotors tighter, his fingers slowly clenching into fists in anticipation.
He had to come upon him while no one was there.
“Where?”
Sunstreaker answered the snarled question with far more cooperation than he normally showed. “Try his quarters, he mentioned cleaning up.”
How fortunate that Sunny had managed to obtain a set of security codes while Red Alert had been... indisposed. The mech had been none too happy with Sideswipe's sudden 'revival' and demanded that a check be made to ensure that he wasn't really an interloper in Sideswipe's frame. Sideswipe had taken none too kindly to the accusation, and in a fit of near Sunstreaker-like temper had savagely assaulted the security officer. Not exactly the first, nor the last, mech to receive such attention.
The mechs he passed registered on Sideswipe’s sensors, but he didn’t see them. Their faces flashed by, and Sideswipe recognized none of them. When he turned down the Officer’s Corridor the number diminished to next to none. It was the middle of a work day, after all.
The door slid open, permitting the warrior into the dimly-lit room. As soon as it shut, Sideswipe took the time to carefully pull the lock out, disabling the opening mechanism.
“Springer, ‘zzat you?”
Sideswipe turned, but saw no sign of the mech who’d spoken. He swept his gaze around the room, noting any irregularities as potential escape routes. He knew there had to be at least one, considering exactly whose room he was in.
“Hey, why ain’t ya answer…“
Sideswipe turned to meet Jazz’s gaze.
“-ing…” Surprise tightened into anger, only to be vented out. “Sides, I ain’t got nothin’ t’ say to ya. I think y’ need to leave.”
A short, sharp laugh barked out of the twin’s vocalizer. The brief smile that had pulled at his mouth quickly turned to a dental-bared frown. “I don’t think so.” Every sensor focused on the black and white frame that stood before him. He heard every minute shift in Jazz’s weight, the hum of energon flowing through his lines. Saw the twitch of Jazz’s fingers, and the slight tensing of his shoulders.
Finally the officer approached Sideswipe with far more surety than he had any right to. A black hand landed on Sideswipe’s arm, and turned the red mech toward the door. “Get out now, ‘fore I send yer aft packin’ to the brig fer breakin’ an’ enterin’.”
It was the opening Sideswipe had been waiting for.
He moved with Jazz’s tug, and then whirled. His elbow smashed into Jazz’s face, just above the cheek guard, shattering his visor and caving in his cheek structure.
The black and white mech dropped to the ground. Then, in a move reminiscent of the dance he was known for, Jazz spun about, foot outstretched, and knocked Sideswipe off his feet.
Sideswipe landed on his back, jolting his engine into an unhealthy cough. No time to consider that. He braced his hands on the floor and kicked out at the saboteur.
Except that Jazz rolled out of Sideswipe’s reach, coming up into a semi-crouch. “What th' frag is yer problem?”
Sideswipe turned in a single smooth motion, bracing his hands on the floor in preparation to move. “You shouldn’t have to ask!” He sprang into a dead run, fingers scraping the floor.
Two tons of angry Lamborghini crashed into the lighter mech. Metal shrieked, Sideswipe shoving Jazz back with the force of his charge. Jazz caught Sideswipe's hands, tangling their fingers and wrenching the larger frame around, using the warrior’ greater weight against him. “Ya really hold a grudge, don't ya Sides? Let it go man!”
“Let it go?” Sideswipe swung with Jazz and then threw the mech into a spin of his own. “Let it go? You fragging want me to do what? You're slagging glitched in the processor if you think I'm gonna do that! A black hand flashed out, grabbing hold of the visored face. Plating gave, and glass cracked under his fingers. “You slagger!” Words failed him, and he spat out anything that came to mind. “You fucking piece of shit! Where do you spark off to that idea? A grudge?” Sideswipe twisted his hand, throwing Jazz to the ground. “Prowl's not here to stop me anymore.” Sideswipe planted his knee under Jazz's bumper. “I’m going to rip your spark out through your exhaust port and shove it down that damned mouth of yours.” Black fingers seized the cables of Jazz's neck, squeezing them tightly.
Jazz grabbed at the red arms, and twisted them painfully. “Whoa whoa! Come on man! I made my peace with Prowl! Why're ya so pissed?” With a grunt, Jazz rocked on his canopy and threw Sideswipe off.
Sideswipe rolled on his shoulder, turning with the ease of far too much practice. His legs coiled and he sprang up again, going for the saboteur picking himself up off the floor. “Peace? You broke your slotting word! How many times was it, Jazz?” His fist landed, just grazing the black helm. “How many times did you fuck him, using me as your leverage?” He spat the human word out with all the distaste curled in his frame, with all the strength that drove his fist toward Jazz again. Sparks shot out from under the black bumper, and Sideswipe ripped his arm away from delicate mechanisms; a fistful of wires in hand.
Jazz swore, slamming his hand into the Lamborghini's once smooth finish and ripping panels away. “What the frag do you want from me, Sides? I backed off; I let him come back here-”
“Come back? If it hadn't been for you, Prowl would never have gone in the first place?” Jazz's jaw caved under Sideswipe's harsh blow. Still the saboteur kept to his feet and retaliated with a low strike at the warrior's waist. A call went out, an alarm, a cry for assistance.
Sideswipe staggered, shoved away by Jazz's blow.
“Calm down and listen, you piece of scrap! Didn' Sunny tell ya! I backed off! I didn't touch him!”
Sideswipe shrieked in sheer, unbridled fury. He didn't remember moving until he found himself standing over the saboteur again, smashing the prominent bumper in with the full weight of his body. His optics burned in his face and every sensor tingled with the surges of power pouring into them. His ventilators heaved with the effort of cooling a processor overclocked by rage. “Lies! Like hell you didn't! You had him running ragged! He couldn't even sleep in the same room as you! You didn't back off! You made it worse! You killed him, Jazz! If it weren't for you, Prowl would still be here!”
“I hurt him, okay! I broke him! I admit it.” Voice spitting and hissing, normal rhythm broken and dental plates shattered Jazz still managed to snarl up at the Lamborghini “But I sure as slag didn't send those Decepticons on that ship. I didn't want him to die! I loved him, too, dammit!”
Sideswipe's fist crashed into Jazz's face. Again and again he struck, his vocalizer shorting with the volume of his wordless screams.
He kicked and he howled when hands dragged him away from the saboteur. Twisting and clawing, he fought his captors. He only went limp when First Aid stepped in and manually shut him down.
~*~*~*~
Sunstreaker straightened when Sideswipe activated his optics. The golden twin stood on the other side of the bars, his arms crossed over his chest.
Sideswipe turned away from the blue optics regarding him, pain in his spark cutting him deeper than any of the damage registering on his HUD.
“Happy, Sides?”
The red frame vented in answer.
“Are you done?”
Sideswipe looked at his brother, unable to draw any emotion to convey his desire.
Yet Sunstreaker understood him, as he always did. “Jazz isn't pressing charges. If Springer pesters you, I'll kick his aft. Rodimus is fritzing over all this and wants us off the planet.” Sunstreaker sighed softly. “We're being reassigned. Happy?”
Sideswipe pulled himself off the berth and over to his brother, reaching through the bar to grip the yellow arm that reached back. “Long as I'm with you, bro. What more do I have?”
A golden hand clapped over the black one. “Same as always has been. Same as it always will be.” Unspoken the words 'I'm here with you, for you,' lingered in the air.
And it was all Sideswipe could truthfully call his own anymore.
If only I could stop the flow of time
Turn the clock to yesterday
Erasing all the pain…
Author's End Note Thanks to vermilionbird, my dear friend, for the much needed kick in the rump to get this chapter posted. She posted hers. Now I'm posting mine. We should all be grateful to her, because it's very likely this wouldn't have gone up for who knows how long.
Pairing/Characters Prowl/Sideswipe, Jazz
Rating M
Summary We can never control who we fall in love with. Those determined to be together will let nothing stand in their way. This is one such pair.
Author’s Note: It’s been over 30 chapters, since ‘Offline’, I figured a little reminder didn’t hurt. Also, attempting to fit lyrics to the finale, forgive any butchering?
I lie awake beside the windowsill
Like a flower in a vase
A moment caught in glass…
The rays of sunlight come and beckon me
To a sleepy dreamy haze
A sense of summer days…
Where was Ratchet.... Ironhide... Brawn? Primus where was Prowl?
It all blurred together.
Black fingers caressed the cold, ash grey crown.
His brother's voice mingled with the soft tones of another. His mangled audio receptors distorted their words past the point of recognition. But it didn't matter, not anymore.
“You know what he meant? How could you? How could you know anything? How could youknow that I-“
He loved him, and it had all been taken away. One blinding flash, he understood that phrase, oh how he understood it. But never in relation to Prowl. It was Sunstreaker, always Sunny, who could be gone in that one blinding flash. A shot. An explosion. Under the enraged hands of the Decepticons.
But never Prowl.
He couldn’t remember Prowl’s smile... that rare laugh... that warm, gentle touch...
Prowl had been the only other constant in his life besides Sunstreaker.
'Slaggit, Prowl, I'm the fragging warrior! Why... you?'
He's gone... He's gone. He's gone!
Sideswipe crumpled to the ground again, dragging the two mechs trying to support his dead weight down. Static keened out of his vocalizer, a restrained scream, unvoiced words that could never be spoken to the one that deserved them.
A fist pounded his back, and his ventilators jumped online in response. A gasp squeezed past his lips, drawing desperately needed air in to cool his heated systems. Pain spiked in his arms, but that was a distant thought to the agony that twisted his spark. That coiled in a nauseous ball in the pit of his fuel tank.
Fuel was forced through his lines, pumped from an outside source.
Oh Primus. Oh, Primus. They were making him live. Didn't they know? Didn't Sunny understand? He had nothing, now. Nothing! It all lay in the cold corpse on that shuttle. What use was it to try anymore when the thing he held dearest to him, the only thing he asked for from this thankless existence would no longer greet him with a twitch of his doorwings? Something so fragile and tenuous that it had all crumbled to rust and dust in his hands when a single mech had shaken their world.
He didn't want to continue. Oh Primus, he hurt! He hurt! He wanted to die! Why couldn't they just...
“Fragging leave me alone!” The transfusion lines ripped free from his arm, spilling energon across the ground, and across his plating. He shoved away from his brother and the medic attending him. His systems responded sluggishly, lack of fuel combined with emotional shock sending minor systems into shut down.
A golden blur suddenly rolled him onto his back, and Sideswipe snarled up at Sunstreaker, as his brother shook him viciously. His brother clutched at him through their bond, the stress on his systems evident in the flickering of his optics. He screamed at Sideswipe, but the words were lost in feedback. His fingers dug into the red twin's shoulders, the empty latches that held the launcher in place. And he continued to shake Sideswipe, screaming the whole time.
Sideswipe didn't need to hear the words to know what they were. He could make out the sense of them easily enough through their bond. Don't you slagging do this!
“He's gone,” the words came out in a whisper he only heard in the vibrations of his frame, crackling and glitching, choked with grief, “He's gone, he's gone he's gone he's gone...”
The yellow arms slid around him, clutching the red mech to the golden chestplate. Sunstreaker hugged Sideswipe tightly, his head on the red twin's shoulder. He rocked Sideswipe, his garbled words rumbling through his chestplate. I'm not!
How could you do that, Sunny?
Sideswipe clung to his brother, feeling golden plating give under his fingers. He shook, vision flickering with static. It shouldn't hurt so much. He tightened his grip on Sunstreaker as the medic, First Aid, tried to pry him away. Must everything be taken from him by force? Was he not allowed peace? Even his own brother denied it of him. Forced him to stay where he did not want to be.
With his hand no longer crushing his audio horns, his self-repair systems kicked in, and words filtered through the static.
“Sunny... happened?”
Sideswipe hunched himself down, aware of the lines being reattached to his arm. His brother's grip tightened on him, his head turned to look at the medic; indistinguishable words rumbling through his frame.
“...anything... is privileged information.”
“I can't,” Sunstreaker moaned, rocking Sideswipe. “I can't, I can't I can't...” His grip tightened on his brother's frame. 'Please, Sides, let me tell him. He can help, he wants to help. Don't do this to me.'
Don't do this? What the slag was Sunny talking about? He wasn't the one who’d had everything he had worked toward dashed into the smelting pit without a thought? “Don't do what?” He snarled at his brother. Sideswipe shoved Sunstreaker away, physically, mentally, curling into a heaving, shaking ball. “Do what to you, Sunny? He's dead! What does that have to do with you? Why would you care about that? He's dead! He's dead, he's dead, he's dead, he's dead.” Sideswipe petered off, rocking back and forth as the words repeated themselves in his processor, shredding through his spark, so like those times he'd known Sunny sat on the edge of death.
He didn't want to see First Aid's reaction. He didn't want to see the surprise. He didn't want the damned Protectobot's pity!
They were making him live, but that didn't mean he had to face life without Prowl. He didn't have to watch the world go by.
He would never remember the ride back to the Autobot City. He would never remember being unloaded or the harried rush to take him into medical.
He knew, peripherally at least, that Sunstreaker was a constant by his side. But he couldn't bring himself out of his funk to care.
Not when Prowl still lived and moved and laughed within his memories. Not when he could still hear the tactician's voice, see the flicker of his optics, feel the caress of white hands that knew exactly where and when to stroke all played out in his processor. He played them through, reliving every byte of memory that contained his lover. From the first lectures, long archived and corrupted with age and new input, to the last memories he had of Prowl, seen through Sunstreaker's optics; broken and depleted. He relived their fights, the anger, the betrayal.
They were all he had left of Prowl now.
Memories that he sorted and filtered and filed and archived. He ran defrag after defrag, not wanting any of their parts to be separated from the whole. He ran more defrags than was considered safe, and still he ran some more.
And he hurt, he hurt like he never thought possible if it didn't involve his brother. Yet, that too was a fragment of Prowl that he clung to; a connection he never realized existed or had so desperately craved.
For it hurt deep in his spark, in the part of himself that he'd tried to give to the tactician eons ago, a lifetime ago. A time so distant, that he no longer was sure it was real, though the scene played clearly in his processor, the pain as real in his mind as it was at the time.
Sometimes his pain would morph into the blackest rage. And he just wanted to strike something, to grab the golden mech that stood beside him, always beside him, and scream at him that it was all. His. Fault. But he couldn't do it, because the real reason was nowhere near, and patterned so similarly to his Prowl... Sideswipe didn't know if he could bear to see the slagging retrograde.
He floundered for an untold amount of time, systems regulated by outside forces, unwelcome invaders when he had no reason to continue.
Still a small part of him, the part that existed outside of his own frame, protested. 'What about me?' And he turned his back to that part.
So lost in his processor was he, lost in the memories of a black and white mech whose rare smile lit every circuitboard in his body, that Sideswipe dreamed. He dreamed of white hands that soothed his aches, and white hands that caressed over his audio horns and cheekguards. White hands that passed over his waking vision. White hands in front of a grey face, and suddenly Sideswipe jolted online. Fully online for the first time in... weeks? Months? His chronometer had frozen in the agonizing stupor that grin its state of disuse and ill repair.
Prowl's optics lit up when Sideswipe focused on him. A keening whimper burst out of a vocalizer that hadn't seen use for too long. The black and white mech pulled his hands away, crooked smile showing relief. Sideswipe caught the hand, unable to say anything past the glitch that caught his vocalizer at every attempt to speak, but not wanting to lose the feel of his lover's hand in his. His mouth moved and he pushed himself up, and reached out his other hand to cup Prowl's cheek.
Confusion pulled Prowl's mouth into a frown, widened his optics. The optics blinked, and suddenly...
His optics darkened and Prowl's beautiful paint job dissolved to the grey of death.
"No!" Sideswipe yanked his hand back, yanked his body away from the specter of his lover. Sideswipe screamed, lashing out, kicking the apparition away. He missed and the dead hand caught his ankle.
It reached for him, lips moving with the warrior's name. “Siiiddeessss….” the deception breathed, dead optics full of concern.
Sideswipe shoved the thing away. “No, no no! You’re dead!” He tumbled to the floor, sluggish processor not understanding why dead-Prowl suddenly loomed over him, fright pulsing through his limbs and pushing him away. “You’re dead, you’re dead you’re dead! You can’t be here.”
Hurt flashed across the stoic face, and Prowl moved around the table, still reaching for the warrior. “What is it? What’s wrong? Talk to me, it’s me it’s-“
“Bluestreak!” Prowl spun about toward the sound of that voice. “What the frag did I tell you? Get the slag outta here!" Sunstreaker stalked up to the phantom figure, his expression thunderous.
“But, Sides... He's online…” The tone…. That wasn’t Prowl.
Sideswipe moved back another eight feet, watching the vision of Prowl melt into Bluestreak’s familiar, undesired face. The small spark that had hoped, if only for an astrosecond, fizzled and guttered and faded away to nothing more than the memory that he had lost himself in.
“I see that, but you’re not helping. Get out!” Sunstreaker shoved Bluestreak away from the medical berth, away from Sideswipe.
“What’s going on here?” First Aid came out of the office, his visor flashing.
“Get out!” Sunstreaker swatted at Bluestreak again, advancing on the gunner another step, his dental plates bared in a snarl. “Get. Out!
Bluestreak looked between the two brothers with wide optics before he beat a hasty retreat.
Sideswipe watched the door panels vanish through the doorway, for a nanosecond, his vision fritzed and the panels turned black and white. A buzz shivered through Sideswipe’s systems, and he pressed his back against the wall. Sunstreaker turned his glowing optics on the red mech and the snarl faded from his face.
Sideswipe couldn’t get his systems to respond as Sunstreaker crouched next to him. He couldn’t coordinate himself to stand, to push his brother away, or embrace him. He didn't even know which he wanted. Sunstreaker pulled him away from the wall, and into his arms.
“You idiot. What the slag made you think that was…” Sunstreaker trailed off, tightening his grip around Sideswipe.
First Aid stood behind Sunstreaker, his visor dim. “Did you have to be so crass about it, Sunny?”
Sunstreaker turned his head to glance at the medic. “I told Blue to leave Sideswipe the frag alone! He can go to the Pits if he doesn’t listen.”
Sideswipe didn’t relax against his brother, Prowl still haunted his memories, reaching for him, his name on the grey lips. Red plating clanked together as he shook, unable to stop himself. Primus, why was this happening to him? What had he done to deserve this?
“It’s good to see you lucid, finally.” First Aid knelt next to Sunstreaker, scans pinging off of Sideswipe’s systems. “You shouldn’t be moving, I still need to run a diagnostic. Can you stand?”
Sideswipe stared at Ratchet’s apprentice…. Oh Primus, Ratchet was dead! And Ironhide, and slagging Brawn they were dead. He remembered their cold corpses from what seems ages ago.
… and… Prowl…
He was…
Sideswipe jerked away from the two mechs, unable to process and finish that thought. It couldn’t be true. Couldn’t…
“- you save them?”
First Aid paused, his fingers reaching for Sideswipe’s shoulder. “What?”
Pleading blue optics stared up at the red and white medic so like his mentor. “Couldn’t you save them?”
First Aid withdrew his hand, pulling away from the brothers. “I-“
Sunstreaker’s engine grumbled, belying his even tone. “Sides, they were gone before the shuttle even crashed. Don’t put the blame on him.“ The high performance Lamborghini engine growled. “It’s not his fault!”
Sideswipe stared out at the medbay. Unbidden, the image of gray frames carried by reverent hands passed through his processor. They’d brought the bodies here. He snapped his optics off, but the image remained unwanted. Oh, Primus, why did he have to remember that?
“Then whose fault is it?”
Yellow knuckles slammed into the floor by Sunstreaker's leg. “You don't have to ask that, Sides,” Sunstreaker snarled, face twisted in hate and anger. “You know damned full well who's to blame.” The golden twin looked up from glaring at the floor. “The slagger's still on Cybertron.”
Confusion furrowed First Aid's brow. “What are you talking about? The Decepticons aren't on Cybertron anymore, we won it back.”
“I'm not talking about the slagging 'Cons, Aid.”
“But it was the 'Cons that killed...”
A single sparkbeat of data had Sideswipe lunging for the medic. He threw the ambulance down and seized a handful of neck cables. Black fingers squeezed until First Aid's vocalizer buzzed with strain. “How much have you told him, Sunny?”
White hands scrabbled at the armored back of Sideswipe's hand. Noises sputtered out of the vocalizer clenched between the black fingers.
Sunstreaker's hard stare briefly slid toward the medic before centering his gaze back on his brother. “Not one slagging thing that he couldn't figure out on his own.”
Understanding lit through Sideswipe's processor and a bitter laugh burst from Sideswipe's vocalizer. 'You idiot,' he snarled at his brother. He couldn't find it in him to feel sympathy for his brother, not right then, not when it still felt like a piece of his spark had been ripped out. How could Sunny be so selfish when his brother was still hurting and couldn't even show it?
Yet...
Sideswipe couldn't hurt his twin, no matter that he hurt so much himself. His grip on the medic ease. Sunstreaker was all he had left to love. All he was allowed to love.
Hydraulics that hadn't seen use in far too long hissed in protest to all the sudden demands. Sideswipe sluggishly shoved himself away from the two mechs. Oh Primus, he couldn't deal with this.
He couldn't bear to look at these two, so like him and Prowl. He couldn't stand First Aid's pitying gaze anymore.
Sideswipe twisted around, clawing his way up the nearest wall. He had to get out.
But his systems wouldn't respond as they should and he staggered. Sunstreaker caught him, heated glare vanished and replaced by concern. First Aid placed a staying hand on the red chestplate, his touch radiating the worry that his mask and visor couldn't express.
“You're still malfunctioning, Sides. I haven't been able to bring you out of standby since we found you. You need to refuel and recharge.”
Sideswipe glared at the medic before turning to his brother.
Sunstreaker's tight grip answered before he even opened his mouth.
With a savage snarl Sideswipe wrested his arm out of Sunstreaker's grip and pushed past them, his legs heavy and weak.
The doors whooshed open and Sideswipe nearly shut down as Prowl's specter waited on the other side, jumping as the door moved.
“Sides!”
A black hand smacked at the large red button marked 'Close', the doors obeying at a seemingly accelerated rate. Sideswipe pedaled away from the door to put as much distance between himself and the phantom. He shook, gears rotating without his consent; his ventilators hitched, the fans stuttering and unable to turn and draw in the air necessary to cool his systems. His optics burned, taking in too much detail at once. Foot falls resounded in his audio sensors and he looked up at Sunstreaker's concerned face.
“Sides, come on, listen to the slagging medic for once. Look at yourself. You can't walk, you can barely stand.”
Sideswipe shook his head. “No.” He wrested control of his circuitry from the fear that shook him down to his spark and stalked past his brother. The door opened before him, once again revealing Prowl's specter-no Bluestreak. Revealing Bluestreak waiting there, his doorwings hanging in his shock and optics brightening on seeing Sideswipe step out of the medbay.
“Sideswipe!”
Sideswipe clenched his fists at his sides as he stalked past, darkening his optics so he couldn't see the relief written on the gunner/Prowl's face. Prowl was dead, this wasn't Prowl.
“Um.. Sides... where...” Bluestreak shifted, gears humming as he turned around, his whisper reaching Sideswipe's overly sensitive audio receptors. “Sunny where's Sides going?”
“Sides is going the wrong way is where he’s going. We’re in Autobot City, dummy, quarters are that way.” Sunstreaker's finger jabbed down the hall.
“If…” Fingers curled around Sideswipe’s shoulder, but he didn’t have to look to see who it was. And he stiffened at the unwanted touch. “If you’re still feeling confused maybe you shouldn’t be leaving the medbay yet.” Sideswipe turned toward the grey mech, ire heating his systems. Bluestreak smiled at him, his optics still dim in dejection, then he turned his head toward the golden brother. “Don’t you agree, Sunny?”
“Blue…”
“Get your slagging hand off me.”
The gunner’s optics blinked in confusion.
Sideswipe whirled suddenly, his fist swinging toward Bluestreak’s cheek.
Bluestreak only had time to jerk back a little, though not nearly enough to dodge the incoming fist. Time moved like a thick gel to Sideswipe's befuddled systems, and he saw in nearly crystal clarity
every minute dentline in Bluestreak's face. The miniscule changes of expression as he watched Sideswipe's fist approach. Lights in the hallway flashed across the red angles of his chevron.
Bluestreak's optics darkened, their lights fading to a nearly complete indigo.
And he waited, dental plates gritted and bared for the powerful blow.
Gears ground to a halt, hydraulics screeching with a sudden command to stop. Feedback rushed through a racing system, the engine stalling at the unexpected demand.
Sideswipe's vision flickered, static breaking up the perfect face before him, so different, yet too alike for him to strike.
The black fist pulled away and dropped to Sideswipe's side. The red twin glared at the Datsun before he turned down the hallway, once again heading for his room.
The grey gunner stayed where Sideswipe left him, though his gaze pressed heavily on the warrior's back. He could hear the hiss of vent his systems and gears whining with despair. Then footsteps carried Bluestreak's presence down the corridor, heading the opposite direction of the red mech.
Sideswipe, didn't stop. Right then, he couldn't care less.
~*~*~*~
The door chimed.
After receiving no response, it chimed again.
The double tone managed to convey a sense of impatience. Sounding, to Sideswipe's receivers at least, like an imperious 'O-pen'.
He thought about acknowledging the query, even with a shouted 'Go away!', but he couldn't bring himself to even run the lines of code that would require, much less to open his mouth. Even though he had left the medic's care, Sideswipe still did not feel whole, and pain still pulsed through his spark, illogical (Ha!) as it seemed since he knew Sunstreaker was currently in the rec room.
The third chime never came; instead the door slid open admitting whoever stood on the other side.
Sideswipe didn't bother turning to face the mech, figuring it to be an officer, though too short to be Prime or Ultra Magnus, and Jazz had yet to return. If it was First Aid coming to pester him again, the mech could frag himself. Anyone else could shove their orders up their tailpipes so far that they'd have to drag themselves to medical and beg Primus to live through extracting the orders from sensitive areas...
The imagery actually pulled at Sideswipe's lips into an almost smile. A sigh heaving from his vents as it faded as quickly as it formed. It didn't feel right to be happy not when...
“Is this where you’ve been hiding? Like some human child, just laying there and pouting?”
Every joint in Sideswipe’s body tensed at the sound of that particular voice. Anger surged through his vocalizer and he found the will to snarl over his shoulder at his unwanted visitor. “Get the slag out, Springer.”
The whine of hydraulics coming to a rest stated Springer’s intent to do exactly the opposite of Sideswipe’s demand. “I don’t think so, you see, there’s a problem, and I’m here to deal with that problem.”
“Ask if I give a frag about any of you or your problems.”
Springer’s vocalizer clicked, and metal scraped and clanged like he was crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, now, that right there is the problem. We have a soldier who abandoned his base, and needed the CMO to go fetch him when other mechs needed his attention. Then that soldier lays in medical for over a year and the CMO can't even figure out what's wrong with him. He finally and suddenly comes out of his apparently self-initiated stasis lock and nobody on the command staff hears from him.”
“So they sent you. You came. Now get the frag out.”
Springer shifted and then his steps announced his approach. “Well, I sent myself really. Since Aid couldn't get you off your skidplate, it was either me, or Magnus, and you wouldn't want Magnus coming for you, would you Sides?”
“What the frag is it to you anyways?”
A hand clapped onto Sideswipe's shoulder and pushed it down to turn him to face the frowning triplechanger, his burning optics revealing the extent of his displeasure. “What the frag is your problem Sideswipe? Slaggit, do you think you're the only one who's had their life turned upside down?” A dry laugh followed on the tail of that comment. “All you lost was some pains in your aft! Frag it, you'd almost think someone had killed Sunny with the way you're carrying on.”
Something within Sideswipe snapped and he launched himself, howling, at the green mech. He exchanged his arms out for his piledrivers almost without thought, almost without realizing it until one of them smashed Springer across his fragging cheekguard, bending the metal, the hard edge of the driver slicing over the triplechanger's face. Springer staggered, buzzing with a pained groan. Then he straightened, optics flashing in anger. His foot crashed into the red chestplate, the powerful kick crumpling the metal and Sideswipe’s diagnostics flared red in alarm.
The red mech slumped to the floor, already low reserves spent, but he still leveled a fierce glare at the triplechanger.
Springer bent over him, anger washed away by concerned. “If you’re damaged, stay in medical. Right now you’re on active duty, and not showing up for your shifts. Ultra Magnus has half a mind to discharge you for abandoning your post. Where will that leave Sunstreaker? Have you thought about how your actions are affecting him? Do you ever consider Sunny? He's supposed to be your brother! But you just mope around like his opinions, his wants, his future doesn't matter to you!” Springer gestured sharply toward Sideswipe, his green hand snapping just in front of the downed mech's face. “Do you go around and make all his decisions for him? Approve every little action? Censor any thought that doesn't process the way you want?” The officer's blue optics burned with a fury Sideswipe hadn't seen since he'd told Sunstreaker that he would not bond with the triplechanger. Though the exchange had never been in words.
Sideswipe stared at the green mech, low energy warnings flashing in his HUD. Words finally dragged from his vocalizer, the sounds hissing and buzzing from his throat.
“It was Sunny's decision...” Sideswipe had offered to transfer, he knew Prowl would have approved rather than break the twins up. Sunstreaker had refused; the trip would be short, they wouldn't be gone long. “He wanted to...” He wanted to make Sideswipe happy...
Springer tensed, his fingers clenched into tight fists at his side. The officer reached down and dragged Sideswipe to his feet. “I'll send a medic down to the brig.”
Brig?
Springer snorted, slinging one of Sideswipe's arms over his shoulder. “You didn't think you could assault an officer and get away with it? Prowl would be disappointed in you.”
Pain squeezed any words tight into Sideswipe's vocalizer. He looked away from Springer, though the words reverberated through his processor and almost made him want to laugh, even though his optics flickered with statics.
'You would be disappointed in me, wouldn't you sparkles?'
~*~*~*~
Sideswipe hesitated just outside the door. He didn't have to hear to know what his brother was doing inside their quarters. He didn't have to ask to find out who his brother was with. The name whispered over their link, had been whispering far longer than Sideswipe had truthfully been paying attention to, lost in his grief.
Anger sliced through him, curling his fingers into claws that he scraped down the metal of the locked door. He pounded his access code into the keypad and barged into the room.
Sunstreaker sat at the foot of his berth, his blue optics already on the door. Propped up on his elbows First Aid turned in surprise, visor flashing at seeing Sideswipe enter. They looked to be having a simple conversation, but Sideswipe knew better. Their engines ran hot, ventilators rushing with excitement. White scraped across Sunstreaker's chestplate, even the glass of his windshield, evidence of their more intimate actions.
First Aid sat up, planting his feet on the floor, balanced to stand quickly. “Sideswipe, is everything okay?” The medic rocked to his feet, stepping lightly over to the red warrior and laying a hand on a shoulder tire. “Are you still malfunctioning?””
Sideswipe glared at the medic, taking the white hand and shoving it off his tire. “Get out.”
First Aid sputtered, then stiffened. “This is Sunstreaker's quarters as well, Sideswipe. I'm here visiting him-”
Sideswipe took a single menacing step toward the medic, looming over the smaller mech. “I said get out.”
Sunstreaker jumped to his feet, moving First Aid to the side before seizing his brother's arm. “Slagger, what the frag do you think you're doing? You don't like Aid in here, than you can slagging get out yourself.” The golden mech yanked Sideswipe closer, his voice dropping to a near hiss. “Isn't that what we always agreed to do if we don't like the other's company? When you had Prowl in here...”
A black hand lashed out, knocking the golden Lamborghini's hand away. Rage choked his intakes, surged through his vocalizer in a burst of sound, and he snatched at one of his brother's vents.
Sunstreaker snarled, blocking Sideswipe's hand. “You keep this up, bro, and I'll make sure you can't move for a few decacycles!”
First Aid suddenly stepped between them, shoving Sideswipe back. “That's enough of this! Do you think I'm just going to stand by while you two beat the circuits out of each other?” The CMO lifted a placating hand as Sideswipe's optics brightened. “I realize that Prowl was important to you, but-”
Sideswipe whipped the ambulance about, fingers pressing into the white mask. “What the frag do you know?” He threw First Aid into the wall, only managing to take a single step toward him before Sunstreaker crashed into him.
Sideswipe, his systems returned to normal operating status, took the weight and propelled his brother to the ground. A black knee smashed down onto Sunstreaker's chest, pinning the golden twin.
Sunstreaker, growled, his engine vibrating Sideswipe's frame. He grabbed Sideswipe's arms, tossing his brother with the ease of many practice sessions. “You slagger, you're going after the wrong mech! It's not Aid's fault!”
First Aid moved toward Sunstreaker, but the golden twin halted the medic with a hand.
“I'll see you later Aid. I gotta deal with this right now.”
First Aid hesitated.
“Go!”
Sideswipe watched the mech back out of the door, heard him reassure the curious mechs standing just outside of their door. He stared at the door, optics wide in shock as no one questioned the CMO's presence in the twins' quarters.
The door hissed shut and Sideswipe slid a glare at his brother, emotions he couldn't put words to churning through his processor.
Sunstreaker straightened from his crouch and approached Sideswipe, his steps slow and cautious. He knelt next to the red mech, not touching Sideswipe, though he leaned in close. “Sides...”
“What the frag are you thinking? Didn’t you learn anything from what happened? Why the slag are you putting yourself through this? He just waltzed out there! What kind of stupid afthead is he? Doesn’t he know what will happen if anyone finds out? You sure as slag should!“
Sunstreaker glared at Sideswipe, and his chin lifted a little in defiance. “Prime knows.”
“…what?”
A golden hand flicked the concern away. “He’s okay with it.”
Suddenly on his feet, Sideswipe staggered, shock jolting through him. “What?”
“I should say, Ultra Magnus doesn’t like it. But Rodimus is okay with it,” Sunstreaker looked away as he grumbled, “not that he has room to talk.”
Sideswipe’s vocalizer clicked on and off a few times before he finally managed to ask his next question. “Who??”
“Rodimus Prime, you-Oh slaggitall, Sides! Haven’t you read any of the sitreps?”
Sideswipe pressed his lips together, moving away from Sunstreaker to climb onto the abandoned berth. “Been a little preoccupied.”
“Fraggit. Optimus died when the Decepticons swarmed over the City. Slagging Hot Rod got the Matrix, and now he’s slotting Rodimus Prime.” Sunstreaker leaned in suddenly. “He doesn’t give a frag who the officers fraternize with as long as their job’s getting done.”
Sideswipe's gaze didn't leave his brother's turning those words over in his processor.
“You idiot! Jazz is scheduled to return in a few weeks you can take out all your frustration then!”
Sideswipe didn't ease his heated stare, didn't respond to his brother's words.
“You slagger, I never bothered you when you were 'facing with Prowl! You knew! I know you knew! Why the slag did you go and do that?” Sunstreaker took a step forward, shoving his brother's shoulder. “Dammit, answer me Sides!” Sunstreaker ground his dental plates together, his already thin patience worn completely down to nothing.
Golden knuckles crashed into the red twin's face, slamming Sideswipe into the wall.
“Don't you dare go catatonic on me again!”
Sideswipe shoved off the wall, throwing himself at his brother. They tumbled to the floor, pushing and shoving and throwing fists and blocking blows.
“You were supposed to protect him! You were supposed to keep that slagmaker from getting his hands on him!” Sideswipe pinned his brother to the floor and pounded at his brother's face.
“I couldn't do anything! He wasn't letting me! He wasn't talking to me, Sides!” Sunstreaker managed to throw his brother off. “You fragger, I did what I could, but he didn't want my help!”
Sideswipe rubbed at a scrap along his chin, the metal of his face bent nearly double. He glared at the floor, unable to call his brother a liar when the truth sat on his face, when he knew Prowl, knew his pride, knew his mannerisms.
Prowl wouldn't ask for help.
His ventilators stuttered and he curled into himself. His optics shorted out and his vocalizer hitched against his words. Again, and again he had failed his lover. When Prowl had needed him he hadn't been there. Had everything Prowl had gone through been worth the snatched moments spent together, and so often those moments had been filled with refreshing memories of just how they'd felt together? He knew Prowl needed the release just as much as he did, he knew that Prowl had been very patient and considerate of Sideswipe's unusual demands.
Sideswipe clutched at the golden shoulder that had shoved him out of his pathetic ball. He couldn't stop his hands from trembling; he couldn't quite make out the face that scowled down at him. A hand that had been intent on returning blow for blow not even a breem before, lightly caressed his seams. Sideswipe sat there for a long time, his chronometer seeming to glitch ahead. And the entire time, Sunstreaker sat with him, not saying a word. And for brief spans of time, Sideswipe almost convinced himself that it was Prowl.
~*~*~*~
Sideswipe finally started dragging his aft out of his room, halfheartedly attending duty shifts, aware of everyone's optics on him. Sideswipe ignored them, ignored the questions after his well-being, where he’d been, what happened, what brought him back, “Are you even listening, Sides?”
Sideswipe turned his blank gaze on Streetwise and the Protectobot threw his hands into the air in exasperation and stormed away.
An energon cube hung from lax fingers, pink liquid slowly tipping out of the sagging corner.
Another hand swooped in suddenly' snatching the cube from Sideswipe's grip and downing the energon in one hasty gulp. “Guess who we just unloaded.” As quickly as he appeared, Sunstreaker moved away from Sideswipe's table as though he hadn't said a word to his brother.
Sideswipe stared at his now empty cube; his processor running the barest of functions before every system spiked and he surged to his feet. Swift steps carried him out of the rec room and down the hall. Every footfall jolted servomotors tighter, his fingers slowly clenching into fists in anticipation.
He had to come upon him while no one was there.
“Where?”
Sunstreaker answered the snarled question with far more cooperation than he normally showed. “Try his quarters, he mentioned cleaning up.”
How fortunate that Sunny had managed to obtain a set of security codes while Red Alert had been... indisposed. The mech had been none too happy with Sideswipe's sudden 'revival' and demanded that a check be made to ensure that he wasn't really an interloper in Sideswipe's frame. Sideswipe had taken none too kindly to the accusation, and in a fit of near Sunstreaker-like temper had savagely assaulted the security officer. Not exactly the first, nor the last, mech to receive such attention.
The mechs he passed registered on Sideswipe’s sensors, but he didn’t see them. Their faces flashed by, and Sideswipe recognized none of them. When he turned down the Officer’s Corridor the number diminished to next to none. It was the middle of a work day, after all.
The door slid open, permitting the warrior into the dimly-lit room. As soon as it shut, Sideswipe took the time to carefully pull the lock out, disabling the opening mechanism.
“Springer, ‘zzat you?”
Sideswipe turned, but saw no sign of the mech who’d spoken. He swept his gaze around the room, noting any irregularities as potential escape routes. He knew there had to be at least one, considering exactly whose room he was in.
“Hey, why ain’t ya answer…“
Sideswipe turned to meet Jazz’s gaze.
“-ing…” Surprise tightened into anger, only to be vented out. “Sides, I ain’t got nothin’ t’ say to ya. I think y’ need to leave.”
A short, sharp laugh barked out of the twin’s vocalizer. The brief smile that had pulled at his mouth quickly turned to a dental-bared frown. “I don’t think so.” Every sensor focused on the black and white frame that stood before him. He heard every minute shift in Jazz’s weight, the hum of energon flowing through his lines. Saw the twitch of Jazz’s fingers, and the slight tensing of his shoulders.
Finally the officer approached Sideswipe with far more surety than he had any right to. A black hand landed on Sideswipe’s arm, and turned the red mech toward the door. “Get out now, ‘fore I send yer aft packin’ to the brig fer breakin’ an’ enterin’.”
It was the opening Sideswipe had been waiting for.
He moved with Jazz’s tug, and then whirled. His elbow smashed into Jazz’s face, just above the cheek guard, shattering his visor and caving in his cheek structure.
The black and white mech dropped to the ground. Then, in a move reminiscent of the dance he was known for, Jazz spun about, foot outstretched, and knocked Sideswipe off his feet.
Sideswipe landed on his back, jolting his engine into an unhealthy cough. No time to consider that. He braced his hands on the floor and kicked out at the saboteur.
Except that Jazz rolled out of Sideswipe’s reach, coming up into a semi-crouch. “What th' frag is yer problem?”
Sideswipe turned in a single smooth motion, bracing his hands on the floor in preparation to move. “You shouldn’t have to ask!” He sprang into a dead run, fingers scraping the floor.
Two tons of angry Lamborghini crashed into the lighter mech. Metal shrieked, Sideswipe shoving Jazz back with the force of his charge. Jazz caught Sideswipe's hands, tangling their fingers and wrenching the larger frame around, using the warrior’ greater weight against him. “Ya really hold a grudge, don't ya Sides? Let it go man!”
“Let it go?” Sideswipe swung with Jazz and then threw the mech into a spin of his own. “Let it go? You fragging want me to do what? You're slagging glitched in the processor if you think I'm gonna do that! A black hand flashed out, grabbing hold of the visored face. Plating gave, and glass cracked under his fingers. “You slagger!” Words failed him, and he spat out anything that came to mind. “You fucking piece of shit! Where do you spark off to that idea? A grudge?” Sideswipe twisted his hand, throwing Jazz to the ground. “Prowl's not here to stop me anymore.” Sideswipe planted his knee under Jazz's bumper. “I’m going to rip your spark out through your exhaust port and shove it down that damned mouth of yours.” Black fingers seized the cables of Jazz's neck, squeezing them tightly.
Jazz grabbed at the red arms, and twisted them painfully. “Whoa whoa! Come on man! I made my peace with Prowl! Why're ya so pissed?” With a grunt, Jazz rocked on his canopy and threw Sideswipe off.
Sideswipe rolled on his shoulder, turning with the ease of far too much practice. His legs coiled and he sprang up again, going for the saboteur picking himself up off the floor. “Peace? You broke your slotting word! How many times was it, Jazz?” His fist landed, just grazing the black helm. “How many times did you fuck him, using me as your leverage?” He spat the human word out with all the distaste curled in his frame, with all the strength that drove his fist toward Jazz again. Sparks shot out from under the black bumper, and Sideswipe ripped his arm away from delicate mechanisms; a fistful of wires in hand.
Jazz swore, slamming his hand into the Lamborghini's once smooth finish and ripping panels away. “What the frag do you want from me, Sides? I backed off; I let him come back here-”
“Come back? If it hadn't been for you, Prowl would never have gone in the first place?” Jazz's jaw caved under Sideswipe's harsh blow. Still the saboteur kept to his feet and retaliated with a low strike at the warrior's waist. A call went out, an alarm, a cry for assistance.
Sideswipe staggered, shoved away by Jazz's blow.
“Calm down and listen, you piece of scrap! Didn' Sunny tell ya! I backed off! I didn't touch him!”
Sideswipe shrieked in sheer, unbridled fury. He didn't remember moving until he found himself standing over the saboteur again, smashing the prominent bumper in with the full weight of his body. His optics burned in his face and every sensor tingled with the surges of power pouring into them. His ventilators heaved with the effort of cooling a processor overclocked by rage. “Lies! Like hell you didn't! You had him running ragged! He couldn't even sleep in the same room as you! You didn't back off! You made it worse! You killed him, Jazz! If it weren't for you, Prowl would still be here!”
“I hurt him, okay! I broke him! I admit it.” Voice spitting and hissing, normal rhythm broken and dental plates shattered Jazz still managed to snarl up at the Lamborghini “But I sure as slag didn't send those Decepticons on that ship. I didn't want him to die! I loved him, too, dammit!”
Sideswipe's fist crashed into Jazz's face. Again and again he struck, his vocalizer shorting with the volume of his wordless screams.
He kicked and he howled when hands dragged him away from the saboteur. Twisting and clawing, he fought his captors. He only went limp when First Aid stepped in and manually shut him down.
~*~*~*~
Sunstreaker straightened when Sideswipe activated his optics. The golden twin stood on the other side of the bars, his arms crossed over his chest.
Sideswipe turned away from the blue optics regarding him, pain in his spark cutting him deeper than any of the damage registering on his HUD.
“Happy, Sides?”
The red frame vented in answer.
“Are you done?”
Sideswipe looked at his brother, unable to draw any emotion to convey his desire.
Yet Sunstreaker understood him, as he always did. “Jazz isn't pressing charges. If Springer pesters you, I'll kick his aft. Rodimus is fritzing over all this and wants us off the planet.” Sunstreaker sighed softly. “We're being reassigned. Happy?”
Sideswipe pulled himself off the berth and over to his brother, reaching through the bar to grip the yellow arm that reached back. “Long as I'm with you, bro. What more do I have?”
A golden hand clapped over the black one. “Same as always has been. Same as it always will be.” Unspoken the words 'I'm here with you, for you,' lingered in the air.
And it was all Sideswipe could truthfully call his own anymore.
If only I could stop the flow of time
Turn the clock to yesterday
Erasing all the pain…
Author's End Note Thanks to vermilionbird, my dear friend, for the much needed kick in the rump to get this chapter posted. She posted hers. Now I'm posting mine. We should all be grateful to her, because it's very likely this wouldn't have gone up for who knows how long.