Fic: Identity 5/?
TITLE: Identity, part 5
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: R for suggestive scenes
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)
FEEDBACK: Loved
A hand clamped around his neck and banged his head against the unyielding surface.
“What the slag are you doing?!”
Two days of non-stop work resulted in a more or less viable protoform where the connective tissue was just now turning a healthier color and the fluid-metal interfaces were filling with the fluids they should contain. Still, pulses from the spark were below what Ratchet had hoped for.
Will had worked through the two days without rest, absorbed in his task and learning a lot more about protoforms than he had been able to gather from files. His own body might look like one of these basic forms, but it was different and he had never been more aware of it than now.
Tired, muscles aching, but satisfied with the result of his own work the hybrid went back to his own quarters, thoughts of a shower and sleep most prominent on his mind.
He wasn’t surprised to find Ironhide joining him halfway there. He didn’t protest the fact that the hologram came out when Lennox returned from his shower, pulling him into a comforting hug as he crawled into bed. Ironhide liked this way of spending time with his partner and who was Will to protest?
* * *
Sideswipe looked at the protoform stretched out on the treatment table, hooked up to who knew what. He only recognized the energon feed that slowly and under intense observation from two independent monitoring machines dripped the life-sustaining substance into the damaged body. In this basic form there was hardly an identifying mark on the mech, but something told Sideswipe that it was Prowl. Not just the knowledge gleaned from Ratchet’s careful probe, but also a recognition of his former team leader.
Maybe it was simple hope and desperation, too.
Because Prowl knew where Sunstreaker was. Whether he was dead or alive, captured or destroyed. And Sideswipe had to know.
He had stayed away from the base for the past two days, had tried to stop thinking about Sunstreaker, about Prowl, about the knowledge his former team leader had concerning his twin.
It hadn’t worked.
His spark sometimes experienced phantom echoes of his brother. It was as if he was close, just around the next corner, and Sideswipe flashed to happier times. Pulling pranks when they were younger, aging their instructors by millennia within one Academy year. He smiled. Yeah, they had been bad. They had been trouble.
Not that their relationship had been as harmonious as their twinned sparks might suggest. Sunstreaker was vain. Arrogant even. He didn’t respect others who couldn’t keep up with him. When teamed up, he would complain about the others’ shortcomings until things got out of hand.
But he was a ruthless, skilled fighter, and he had had his kills throughout the war. Both of them had and they had looked out for each other. It was an unspoken rule that the twins would never be on separate teams.
Sideswipe missed him.
His spark constricted painfully and he suppressed the hitch rising in his systems. He didn’t care if they might not see each other for the next century, but the knowledge… he had to know! If he knew, things would be better. He believed in it.
Walking over to the table he followed the different wires until he identified the connection to the core unit. Ratchet was keeping matters slow; too slow. Sideswipe had to know! He was no medic, but he understood basic first aid, and bringing a shell-shocked spark back, force it to reboot, had been part of that training.
Familiarizing himself with the program he entered a command and a read-out appeared. He studied it, then increased the energon feed and simultaneously entered the command for the core to reboot.
Something slammed into him and he cried out in pain and surprise. He was caught by strong hands and something more massive than him smacked him hard against the wall. Hard enough to rattle his systems. A hand clamped around his neck and banged his head against the unyielding surface.
“What the slag are you doing?!”
Ratchet.
Sideswipe gave a little wheeze. “I need to know!” he finally managed.
“Need to know what?” the medic demanded sharply, in his face, optics ablaze with fury.
“Sunstreaker. Prowl knows. He has to!”
“Prowl is currently more dead than alive and what you almost did would have killed him before he even got a word out!”
“No… I need to… know!”
Ratchet shook his head, disgust in his optics. “The state your former commander is in, he might just have lost all what made him Prowl, do you understand? I don’t know if he even knows who he is!”
Ratchet released him and Sideswipe slid to the floor, touching his bruised neck. Images of his twin raced through his mind and he had this need, this incredible need to finally know. It was hard enough to be alone when there had always been someone with him, someone who was as much like him as he wasn’t. Sunstreaker had been… was!... his twin. He needed to know. His spark ached with the uncertainty.
Ratchet ignored him as he checked the monitor and entered several commands.
“Ratchet?”
Sideswipe was surprised he hadn’t noticed Ironhide, who had apparently been there all the time. The massive guns were aimed at him and the glow in their depths told of how close the silver mech had come to being obliterated.
“Get him out of here, Ironhide!” Ratchet only snapped.
“Sure thing.”
Sideswipe was unceremoniously grabbed and hauled to his feet, then pushed and dragged roughly out of the med bay unit.
“Please,” he whispered. “I need to know.”
“What you need to know is that you nearly killed your commander because you’re an idiot!” Ironhide snarled. “If it was up to me, you’d be off-lined immediately. But Prime wants to see you first.”
Sideswipe felt his systems shiver.
*
By the time he arrived in the Prime’s office Sideswipe’s mind had cleared enough that he realized in horror what he had almost done. Guilt flooded him; guilt, shame, embarrassment, and fear. The last months had worked out so well. He had spent time travelling with Maxx Racing, getting to know humans in a completely different way. These were men and women not associated with the Autobot base or the military. It was a new experience. He had developed a friendly relationship with many, including his ‘driver’, Sergeant Reese, and his return had somehow felt like he was leaving behind people he would have wanted to spend more time with.
Now that Maxx Racing was back in the US to test for the up-coming season of Formula One racing such close observation wasn’t needed. Reese was still there, their permanent liaison, but Arcee had joined the team for a while.
With Ironhide close behind him, Sideswipe entered the office space, squaring his shoulders to face his punishment. Prime’s face was a mask, only his ancient optics speaking of the emotions inside. The intensity of that gaze robbed Sideswipe of all he wanted to tell the Autobot leader. It had him lower his gaze, admit defeat.
“Why?” Optimus only asked without preamble.
“Prowl was with Sunstreaker. He might know where he is,” Sideswipe heard himself say.
“You don’t know if he was there. You don’t know what he saw, where his last battle was fought.”
“But if he was with my brother…”
“Then he will tell us when he is stable enough. Prowl is in such a fragile state, anything, the slightest tremor, could take his spark,” Optimus said, voice level. “Ratchet told everyone, including you. I knew it was a risk to give you this information, but I was ready to take it - against advice.”
Ironhide rumbled behind him. Sideswipe wanted to sink into the ground. He had acted as the weapons specialist had predicted. As probably everyone had said. Optimus had believed in him; the Prime had trusted him!
“I’m sorry, Prime,” he whispered.
“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” Ironhide growled. “If Prowl dies because of your tampering…”
“I didn’t get to initiate the reboot!” the silver mech cried.
“Thanks to Ratchet!” the more massive Autobot snapped.
Sideswipe evaded the knowing optics once more.
“You leave me no choice, Sideswipe,” Optimus said.
“Sir…?”
“Ironhide wants you deactivated for at least six months.”
“Prime…” he begged, aghast at the punishment. Six months!
“I still believe that there is some part of you that understands what you did, that regrets it,” Prime went on, fixing him with a hard look. “A part that has control enough to follow my next order.”
He froze.
“Leave the base. Leave the state, Sideswipe. I don’t want you within a radius of a thousand miles of the Nevada base at all until we recall you.”
Sideswipe felt his spark lurch. “Sir?”
“You heard me. If you choose to, rejoin Maxx Racing. Arcee will change places with you. Stay with them until you have my explicit approval to come here once more.”
Sideswipe trembled. “Yes, Prime.”
Optimus nodded, still unreadable. Sideswipe had never been in such a powerful presence. He had never seen Prime as he was now. This was their leader and he could feel it in every circuit.
Leaving the office he was aware of Ironhide following him, but he ignored the heavily armed mech. It felt as if everyone was looking at him, knew what he had done, what he had almost done, and Sideswipe had never been more glad to transform and just drive.
So he drove.
His spark ached and whimpered as he put miles upon miles between him and the only other mech who might know about Sunstreaker.
The mech he had almost killed.
* * *
Security around med bay had been increased and only a handful of mechs and humans were allowed to enter. Ratchet had spent an hour checking and rechecking Prowl’s read-outs. Nothing had happened. He was still stable and so he increased the energon flow of the feed.
A week after the incident he finally allowed the innermost systems to reattach to the spark, to be flooded by energon.
Two days after that the peripheral systems were coming slowly online, at barely two percent of the original computing speed.
At the end of that week the core program was running at sixty-five percent and stabilizing. Ratchet started to send careful signals into the spark, reassuring it that Prowl was among friends. Sam had come back, but Ratchet didn’t need him yet. He had politely turned down all offers of help.
A month after Sideswipe had left the base Prowl’s spark was at ninety percent, his systems were rebooting one after another, and by the end of the day his optics started to come online. Fingers twitched and curled slightly, then the voice modulator gurgled softly.
Ratchet leaned over the brightening optics, smiling a little as he sent his personal ID over and over.
“Hello, Prowl. Welcome back.”
tbc...
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: R for suggestive scenes
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)
FEEDBACK: Loved
A hand clamped around his neck and banged his head against the unyielding surface.
“What the slag are you doing?!”
Two days of non-stop work resulted in a more or less viable protoform where the connective tissue was just now turning a healthier color and the fluid-metal interfaces were filling with the fluids they should contain. Still, pulses from the spark were below what Ratchet had hoped for.
Will had worked through the two days without rest, absorbed in his task and learning a lot more about protoforms than he had been able to gather from files. His own body might look like one of these basic forms, but it was different and he had never been more aware of it than now.
Tired, muscles aching, but satisfied with the result of his own work the hybrid went back to his own quarters, thoughts of a shower and sleep most prominent on his mind.
He wasn’t surprised to find Ironhide joining him halfway there. He didn’t protest the fact that the hologram came out when Lennox returned from his shower, pulling him into a comforting hug as he crawled into bed. Ironhide liked this way of spending time with his partner and who was Will to protest?
* * *
Sideswipe looked at the protoform stretched out on the treatment table, hooked up to who knew what. He only recognized the energon feed that slowly and under intense observation from two independent monitoring machines dripped the life-sustaining substance into the damaged body. In this basic form there was hardly an identifying mark on the mech, but something told Sideswipe that it was Prowl. Not just the knowledge gleaned from Ratchet’s careful probe, but also a recognition of his former team leader.
Maybe it was simple hope and desperation, too.
Because Prowl knew where Sunstreaker was. Whether he was dead or alive, captured or destroyed. And Sideswipe had to know.
He had stayed away from the base for the past two days, had tried to stop thinking about Sunstreaker, about Prowl, about the knowledge his former team leader had concerning his twin.
It hadn’t worked.
His spark sometimes experienced phantom echoes of his brother. It was as if he was close, just around the next corner, and Sideswipe flashed to happier times. Pulling pranks when they were younger, aging their instructors by millennia within one Academy year. He smiled. Yeah, they had been bad. They had been trouble.
Not that their relationship had been as harmonious as their twinned sparks might suggest. Sunstreaker was vain. Arrogant even. He didn’t respect others who couldn’t keep up with him. When teamed up, he would complain about the others’ shortcomings until things got out of hand.
But he was a ruthless, skilled fighter, and he had had his kills throughout the war. Both of them had and they had looked out for each other. It was an unspoken rule that the twins would never be on separate teams.
Sideswipe missed him.
His spark constricted painfully and he suppressed the hitch rising in his systems. He didn’t care if they might not see each other for the next century, but the knowledge… he had to know! If he knew, things would be better. He believed in it.
Walking over to the table he followed the different wires until he identified the connection to the core unit. Ratchet was keeping matters slow; too slow. Sideswipe had to know! He was no medic, but he understood basic first aid, and bringing a shell-shocked spark back, force it to reboot, had been part of that training.
Familiarizing himself with the program he entered a command and a read-out appeared. He studied it, then increased the energon feed and simultaneously entered the command for the core to reboot.
Something slammed into him and he cried out in pain and surprise. He was caught by strong hands and something more massive than him smacked him hard against the wall. Hard enough to rattle his systems. A hand clamped around his neck and banged his head against the unyielding surface.
“What the slag are you doing?!”
Ratchet.
Sideswipe gave a little wheeze. “I need to know!” he finally managed.
“Need to know what?” the medic demanded sharply, in his face, optics ablaze with fury.
“Sunstreaker. Prowl knows. He has to!”
“Prowl is currently more dead than alive and what you almost did would have killed him before he even got a word out!”
“No… I need to… know!”
Ratchet shook his head, disgust in his optics. “The state your former commander is in, he might just have lost all what made him Prowl, do you understand? I don’t know if he even knows who he is!”
Ratchet released him and Sideswipe slid to the floor, touching his bruised neck. Images of his twin raced through his mind and he had this need, this incredible need to finally know. It was hard enough to be alone when there had always been someone with him, someone who was as much like him as he wasn’t. Sunstreaker had been… was!... his twin. He needed to know. His spark ached with the uncertainty.
Ratchet ignored him as he checked the monitor and entered several commands.
“Ratchet?”
Sideswipe was surprised he hadn’t noticed Ironhide, who had apparently been there all the time. The massive guns were aimed at him and the glow in their depths told of how close the silver mech had come to being obliterated.
“Get him out of here, Ironhide!” Ratchet only snapped.
“Sure thing.”
Sideswipe was unceremoniously grabbed and hauled to his feet, then pushed and dragged roughly out of the med bay unit.
“Please,” he whispered. “I need to know.”
“What you need to know is that you nearly killed your commander because you’re an idiot!” Ironhide snarled. “If it was up to me, you’d be off-lined immediately. But Prime wants to see you first.”
Sideswipe felt his systems shiver.
*
By the time he arrived in the Prime’s office Sideswipe’s mind had cleared enough that he realized in horror what he had almost done. Guilt flooded him; guilt, shame, embarrassment, and fear. The last months had worked out so well. He had spent time travelling with Maxx Racing, getting to know humans in a completely different way. These were men and women not associated with the Autobot base or the military. It was a new experience. He had developed a friendly relationship with many, including his ‘driver’, Sergeant Reese, and his return had somehow felt like he was leaving behind people he would have wanted to spend more time with.
Now that Maxx Racing was back in the US to test for the up-coming season of Formula One racing such close observation wasn’t needed. Reese was still there, their permanent liaison, but Arcee had joined the team for a while.
With Ironhide close behind him, Sideswipe entered the office space, squaring his shoulders to face his punishment. Prime’s face was a mask, only his ancient optics speaking of the emotions inside. The intensity of that gaze robbed Sideswipe of all he wanted to tell the Autobot leader. It had him lower his gaze, admit defeat.
“Why?” Optimus only asked without preamble.
“Prowl was with Sunstreaker. He might know where he is,” Sideswipe heard himself say.
“You don’t know if he was there. You don’t know what he saw, where his last battle was fought.”
“But if he was with my brother…”
“Then he will tell us when he is stable enough. Prowl is in such a fragile state, anything, the slightest tremor, could take his spark,” Optimus said, voice level. “Ratchet told everyone, including you. I knew it was a risk to give you this information, but I was ready to take it - against advice.”
Ironhide rumbled behind him. Sideswipe wanted to sink into the ground. He had acted as the weapons specialist had predicted. As probably everyone had said. Optimus had believed in him; the Prime had trusted him!
“I’m sorry, Prime,” he whispered.
“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” Ironhide growled. “If Prowl dies because of your tampering…”
“I didn’t get to initiate the reboot!” the silver mech cried.
“Thanks to Ratchet!” the more massive Autobot snapped.
Sideswipe evaded the knowing optics once more.
“You leave me no choice, Sideswipe,” Optimus said.
“Sir…?”
“Ironhide wants you deactivated for at least six months.”
“Prime…” he begged, aghast at the punishment. Six months!
“I still believe that there is some part of you that understands what you did, that regrets it,” Prime went on, fixing him with a hard look. “A part that has control enough to follow my next order.”
He froze.
“Leave the base. Leave the state, Sideswipe. I don’t want you within a radius of a thousand miles of the Nevada base at all until we recall you.”
Sideswipe felt his spark lurch. “Sir?”
“You heard me. If you choose to, rejoin Maxx Racing. Arcee will change places with you. Stay with them until you have my explicit approval to come here once more.”
Sideswipe trembled. “Yes, Prime.”
Optimus nodded, still unreadable. Sideswipe had never been in such a powerful presence. He had never seen Prime as he was now. This was their leader and he could feel it in every circuit.
Leaving the office he was aware of Ironhide following him, but he ignored the heavily armed mech. It felt as if everyone was looking at him, knew what he had done, what he had almost done, and Sideswipe had never been more glad to transform and just drive.
So he drove.
His spark ached and whimpered as he put miles upon miles between him and the only other mech who might know about Sunstreaker.
The mech he had almost killed.
* * *
Security around med bay had been increased and only a handful of mechs and humans were allowed to enter. Ratchet had spent an hour checking and rechecking Prowl’s read-outs. Nothing had happened. He was still stable and so he increased the energon flow of the feed.
A week after the incident he finally allowed the innermost systems to reattach to the spark, to be flooded by energon.
Two days after that the peripheral systems were coming slowly online, at barely two percent of the original computing speed.
At the end of that week the core program was running at sixty-five percent and stabilizing. Ratchet started to send careful signals into the spark, reassuring it that Prowl was among friends. Sam had come back, but Ratchet didn’t need him yet. He had politely turned down all offers of help.
A month after Sideswipe had left the base Prowl’s spark was at ninety percent, his systems were rebooting one after another, and by the end of the day his optics started to come online. Fingers twitched and curled slightly, then the voice modulator gurgled softly.
Ratchet leaned over the brightening optics, smiling a little as he sent his personal ID over and over.
“Hello, Prowl. Welcome back.”
tbc...