December Challenge Angst!
Title: The distant horizon
Rating: PG
Warnings: ANGST, Character Death it might be a good idea to get tissues.
Prompt: Hold me as I lay dying
Pairing/Characters: Beachcomber/Seaspray, mentions of the other Minibots
Summary: All good and bad things must, some day, come to an end.
Authors note: The Beachcomber who lives in my head has had a hell of a tough life. And I mean really tough, he's been kicked from one end of the universe to the other and back again. Some of this will be familiar to those of you I RP the little blue guys with.
The beach was quiet, as it usually was Seaspray reflected. No one came here really, except geology students on field trips and two minibots that were happier outside than inside. Of course, they weren’t alone, just out of sight the other minibots waited, if it was to be now then they wouldn’t let him go through it alone. It was how it was amongst them.
Ignoring the silent and distant watchers, he looked up at the towering cliffs reciting from memory there ages and names as Beachcomber had painstakingly taught him, Carboniferous, Permian, Triassic, all with there own distinct collections of plants and bones. Rocks old even on the timescales of their race, sometimes he hated the rocks, hated their permanency. The sea pounded against them daily in the winter, the rain lashed them in spring, the sun baked them during the summer, the wind battered them in autumn, and yet they still stood almost unchanging.
“No quite as” there was a long pause as the speaker struggled for breath “peaceful as it looks ‘Spray.”
Seaspray looked down at the body cradled against him; Beachcomber had always possessed an uncanny knack for reading his thoughts, “No? It looks tranquil enough today.”
Beachcomber gave a tired, worn smile “Rocks have ta fight all the time,” he looked up towards where memory told him the rocks where “just like me.”
“And you’re just as stubborn and tough as the rocks as well,” Seaspray said reassuringly “We’ll beat this one ‘Comber, just hang in there a bit longer.”
For a long time the only sound was Beachcombers laboured breathing, intakes rattling dryly and filters whistling as air passed through holes in them. Then so quietly that Seaspray almost missed it, he whispered “No, not this time ‘Spray. All used up this time, got nothing left to fight with.”
Forcing back his pain and a sudden tank emptying feeling of loss Seaspray choked out “Don’t say that, Ratchet and co will find away to beat this.”
Beachcomber sighed; he’d always known the hardest part of this was going to be saying good-bye to ‘Spray. They’d know each other professionally and personally since before the war and that had deepened into a very close personal friendship every since. ‘Spray had been there at his highest and lowest points and had helped him through all of it unflinchingly. Yet here they were alone on a beach on an insignificant world in the middle of galactic nowhere and some microscopic plant was about to end that mutual fight once and for all
Seaspray felt a scream building inside of him it was so unfair! Beachcomber had fought fate so hard and so often just for the chance to live. He had been left for dead on a dozen different worlds, stranded in space for voorns and yet still always saw the best in every mech, he’d never become bitter or unfeeling towards anyone. Spray remembered the daemons they’d battled together over the voorns; the night terrors that would have Beachcomber thrashing about screaming his vocalizer hoarse. The long periods of hard physical recovery from injuries and the harder physical and mental battles against drug addictions and bitterly wondered how many other mechs would be even half as sane as Beachcomber after even a few of those trials.
“Sorry ‘Spray, but every life form has an ending.” Beachcomber rasped out, his visor flickering “Even the mightiest creatures Gaia produced didn’t last fer ever.”
Seaspray hugged Beachcomber close, hearing and feeling his stuttering systems begin to fail. Letting the tears that had been threatening for months now start to fall he whispered, “Don’t want to loose you.”
A serene smile erased the lines pain had written deep into Beachcomber’s face “Ya won’t ‘Spray. No life is truly over,” he struggled momentarily for air “until every other life it touched is ended. So long as you’re alive, so am I.”
“It’s not the same!” Seaspray sobbed, “All I’ll have are memories, not you. Not really you.”
A shaking blue hand rested unsteadily over his spark, “No, I’ll be right in here with you ‘Spray, never doubt it.” Beachcomber’s voice was soft and reassuring “I’m a bit like a crab see.”
Seaspray blinked and tried to picture ‘Comber as a blue crab and a small snort of laughter escaped through the tears “You’re not spiky enough to be a crab.”
Beachcomber was glad to hear that laugh, how every small, “But I am. You showed me once how they change from one body to another remember? This is just our way of doin’ that. I’ve grown too big and too old for this one so I’m shrugging it off and growing a new one.”
Seaspray didn’t really understand that chain of thought but then Beachcomber was like that sometimes, he looked at the world from an odd angle. It gave Beachcomber comfort and he wasn’t about to argue with him, not now.
“’Spray?” Beachcombers voice was barely audible over the waves.”
“Still here ‘Comber.” Seaspray hurried to reassure, knowing how many systems and sensors had shut down permanently over the last few days.
“Carry me down to the tide line?” It was the merest thread of a voice “I’d like to feel the sea once more.”
Gently Seaspray lifted Beachcomber and walked slowly down to the shore. Even the slightest movement left drops of bright energon on the sand as it bled out of disintegrating lines.
“Here is the sea ‘Comber.” Seaspray said as he settled both of them down in the surf, letting the cold water wash placidly over their legs.
“The boundless sea,” Beachcomber smiled “I think I’m ready to take a voyage over it now. But before I go…” His fingers scrabbled in a subspace pocket “Made it when we first landed, meant to give you this long ago.”
The soft evening light glinted on the stone figure “For healing, protection and remembrance ‘Spray.”
His own hand trembling Seaspray took the Carnelian seahorse from ‘Combers open palm, “I…’Comber.” His voice broke up into static and he wrapped his arms tight about Beachcomber and held him close weeping.
“Seaspray?”
Bumblebee’s soft regret filled voice brought him back to an awareness of the world and the other Minibots gathered on the shore behind him, the tide had risen almost to his chest and the blue green water washed over the grey body of Beachcomber.
“He’s gone.” Bumblebee said softly, “I’m sorry ‘Spray.”
Seaspray looked out towards the western horizon and made a decision, “Fair winds, calm seas and a safe harbour at journeys end my friend.” His voice clear and steady as he slowly let go of Beachcomber’s body letting the tide draw it out into the boundless sea.
Um any chance of a Seaspray tag?
Rating: PG
Warnings: ANGST, Character Death it might be a good idea to get tissues.
Prompt: Hold me as I lay dying
Pairing/Characters: Beachcomber/Seaspray, mentions of the other Minibots
Summary: All good and bad things must, some day, come to an end.
Authors note: The Beachcomber who lives in my head has had a hell of a tough life. And I mean really tough, he's been kicked from one end of the universe to the other and back again. Some of this will be familiar to those of you I RP the little blue guys with.
The beach was quiet, as it usually was Seaspray reflected. No one came here really, except geology students on field trips and two minibots that were happier outside than inside. Of course, they weren’t alone, just out of sight the other minibots waited, if it was to be now then they wouldn’t let him go through it alone. It was how it was amongst them.
Ignoring the silent and distant watchers, he looked up at the towering cliffs reciting from memory there ages and names as Beachcomber had painstakingly taught him, Carboniferous, Permian, Triassic, all with there own distinct collections of plants and bones. Rocks old even on the timescales of their race, sometimes he hated the rocks, hated their permanency. The sea pounded against them daily in the winter, the rain lashed them in spring, the sun baked them during the summer, the wind battered them in autumn, and yet they still stood almost unchanging.
“No quite as” there was a long pause as the speaker struggled for breath “peaceful as it looks ‘Spray.”
Seaspray looked down at the body cradled against him; Beachcomber had always possessed an uncanny knack for reading his thoughts, “No? It looks tranquil enough today.”
Beachcomber gave a tired, worn smile “Rocks have ta fight all the time,” he looked up towards where memory told him the rocks where “just like me.”
“And you’re just as stubborn and tough as the rocks as well,” Seaspray said reassuringly “We’ll beat this one ‘Comber, just hang in there a bit longer.”
For a long time the only sound was Beachcombers laboured breathing, intakes rattling dryly and filters whistling as air passed through holes in them. Then so quietly that Seaspray almost missed it, he whispered “No, not this time ‘Spray. All used up this time, got nothing left to fight with.”
Forcing back his pain and a sudden tank emptying feeling of loss Seaspray choked out “Don’t say that, Ratchet and co will find away to beat this.”
Beachcomber sighed; he’d always known the hardest part of this was going to be saying good-bye to ‘Spray. They’d know each other professionally and personally since before the war and that had deepened into a very close personal friendship every since. ‘Spray had been there at his highest and lowest points and had helped him through all of it unflinchingly. Yet here they were alone on a beach on an insignificant world in the middle of galactic nowhere and some microscopic plant was about to end that mutual fight once and for all
Seaspray felt a scream building inside of him it was so unfair! Beachcomber had fought fate so hard and so often just for the chance to live. He had been left for dead on a dozen different worlds, stranded in space for voorns and yet still always saw the best in every mech, he’d never become bitter or unfeeling towards anyone. Spray remembered the daemons they’d battled together over the voorns; the night terrors that would have Beachcomber thrashing about screaming his vocalizer hoarse. The long periods of hard physical recovery from injuries and the harder physical and mental battles against drug addictions and bitterly wondered how many other mechs would be even half as sane as Beachcomber after even a few of those trials.
“Sorry ‘Spray, but every life form has an ending.” Beachcomber rasped out, his visor flickering “Even the mightiest creatures Gaia produced didn’t last fer ever.”
Seaspray hugged Beachcomber close, hearing and feeling his stuttering systems begin to fail. Letting the tears that had been threatening for months now start to fall he whispered, “Don’t want to loose you.”
A serene smile erased the lines pain had written deep into Beachcomber’s face “Ya won’t ‘Spray. No life is truly over,” he struggled momentarily for air “until every other life it touched is ended. So long as you’re alive, so am I.”
“It’s not the same!” Seaspray sobbed, “All I’ll have are memories, not you. Not really you.”
A shaking blue hand rested unsteadily over his spark, “No, I’ll be right in here with you ‘Spray, never doubt it.” Beachcomber’s voice was soft and reassuring “I’m a bit like a crab see.”
Seaspray blinked and tried to picture ‘Comber as a blue crab and a small snort of laughter escaped through the tears “You’re not spiky enough to be a crab.”
Beachcomber was glad to hear that laugh, how every small, “But I am. You showed me once how they change from one body to another remember? This is just our way of doin’ that. I’ve grown too big and too old for this one so I’m shrugging it off and growing a new one.”
Seaspray didn’t really understand that chain of thought but then Beachcomber was like that sometimes, he looked at the world from an odd angle. It gave Beachcomber comfort and he wasn’t about to argue with him, not now.
“’Spray?” Beachcombers voice was barely audible over the waves.”
“Still here ‘Comber.” Seaspray hurried to reassure, knowing how many systems and sensors had shut down permanently over the last few days.
“Carry me down to the tide line?” It was the merest thread of a voice “I’d like to feel the sea once more.”
Gently Seaspray lifted Beachcomber and walked slowly down to the shore. Even the slightest movement left drops of bright energon on the sand as it bled out of disintegrating lines.
“Here is the sea ‘Comber.” Seaspray said as he settled both of them down in the surf, letting the cold water wash placidly over their legs.
“The boundless sea,” Beachcomber smiled “I think I’m ready to take a voyage over it now. But before I go…” His fingers scrabbled in a subspace pocket “Made it when we first landed, meant to give you this long ago.”
The soft evening light glinted on the stone figure “For healing, protection and remembrance ‘Spray.”
His own hand trembling Seaspray took the Carnelian seahorse from ‘Combers open palm, “I…’Comber.” His voice broke up into static and he wrapped his arms tight about Beachcomber and held him close weeping.
“Seaspray?”
Bumblebee’s soft regret filled voice brought him back to an awareness of the world and the other Minibots gathered on the shore behind him, the tide had risen almost to his chest and the blue green water washed over the grey body of Beachcomber.
“He’s gone.” Bumblebee said softly, “I’m sorry ‘Spray.”
Seaspray looked out towards the western horizon and made a decision, “Fair winds, calm seas and a safe harbour at journeys end my friend.” His voice clear and steady as he slowly let go of Beachcomber’s body letting the tide draw it out into the boundless sea.
Um any chance of a Seaspray tag?