[Fic] Indigo
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, I just write about them :)
Title: Indigo
Universe: G1
Rating: K+
A/N: First attempt for the May ProwlxJazz LJ community challenge "On the outside looking in". I'll probably do at least one more, but this was the first bunny that bit :) See if you can guess who's talking before you get to the end.
I was there when they first met: the coolly efficient second in command and the exuberant new spy chief. One had served the Primes for centuries, knew all the protocols, could be fazed by nothing... or so it seemed; the other was self-assured just shy of outright arrogance, casual and friendly with everyone... though only to a point. Both controlled their emotions with an iron grip, showing only what they chose for others to see.
I was there when they met, but that was not when it happened.
I was there when Praxus fell, so abruptly, so violently, so unexpectedly. The SIC remained impassive in public, ensuring all the details were covered and everywhere was properly checked for survivors. Without his focused dedication Bluestreak may not have been found before he deactivated from lack of sustenance. Even so, many soldiers muttered that he must be entirely sparkless to remain so cool and grumbled that they were working for a drone. They did not know how much he was hurting and he allowed them to see none of it, but the third in command must have seen something for he ordered his staff to shelter the emotionally battered tactician, to combat the vicious gossip and to ensure he got space he needed to grieve.
I was there at Praxus, but that was not where it happened.
I was there when the saboteur broke down. The news came through of a Neutral base raided, one amongst so many, the news so commonplace by now that everyone was numb to it. But in some way never explained, this one was special. The TIC railed openly, demanding permission to track down the perpetrators, and then physically assaulted the SIC when he would not grant it. His grief was loud and violent and everyone on ship feared the outcome, feared to approach this usually genial mech. But the still-injured tactician dared to go where others would not, and while neither ever spoke of what occured in those long groons behind closed doors when he emerged the worst of the storm was over.
I was there when the saboteur lost control, and though many believed that that was the beginning of their intimate relationship, I know differently.
The truth is that it was not love at first sight, it was not realisation after compassionate care, it was not the result of a passionate and emotional exchange.
I was there on a quiet night when nothing had happened for orns and the SIC had taken pity on the bored command centre staff and had let them all go, leaving only himself and the TIC on duty to keep watch. I was there in the companionable silence when the conversation of two mechs walking down the corridor drifted through the open door bemoaning the fact that their selected date had come and gone in the betting pool of when Prowl and Jazz would finally shift in together. I saw them look at each other in startlement, then away again just as quickly and each find an excuse to focus on work and studiously ignore what they had heard.
Within a vorn they were a committed couple, sharing both quarters and berth, still efficient in their work but their relationship clear in the shared smile, the casual caress, the tender glance. It warmed all those around them; a flare of light in the darkness, of hope holding back the despair so prevalent in the interminable war.
But it could not last.
When one of them died so suddenly, so unexpectedly, so tragically, the other was far away. He had a crisis of his own to cope with, and in spite of the rumours they had never bonded so he did not feel it, he did not know, and there was too much happening for anyone to think to tell him.
Later, so much later, too late to even say goodbye to the physical form that remained for others had already had sent it away, he hid himself away to try to understand how he had lost the most important thing in his life, to understand how he could possibly go on alone.
"Please." he begged, seeking forgiveness from me, and from him.
"Please." he wept, fearing that forgiveness might not be granted.
"Please." he whispered, wanting the loneliness to end.
I was there. I heard, I saw.
And when eventually he could bear the solitude no longer and came to me, I reunited them.
I was there when they met again, in a different time, a different place, once again strangers to each other: one a half-trained but gifted ninja amongst a group of outcasts; the other a highly regarded elite soldier, stifled by his surroundings; each of them yearning for something they could not quite define, something more.
This time there was some recognition, though neither understood why. And I wait and I watch. And when this ends they will try again, and again. And they will always find each other.
And I will always be there.
A/N: That's right, this was Primus watching over them.