Advent Calander, Day 23
Title: A Life (Not) Lived
Warnings: Angst, slight spoilers for WfC, very light hints towards death, possible Air Raid/Sideswipe if you squint your eyes and lean to the right
Rating: PG?
Continuity: War for Cybertron
Characters: Sideswipe & Air Raid
Disclaimer: Don’t own, don’t profit, etc.
Prompt: December 23 entry in the advent calendar, “longing for something that has been lost”
From the spaceship, Cybertron looked even more desolate and broken - and small. He’d never wanted to see his planet, his home, looking like this, and now he couldn’t take his optics away from the scene. It was spark-wrenchingly depressing, and he couldn’t get away.
He couldn’t fly away. He was caged inside the ship; the walls squeezed in on him closer and closer every cycle he spent here.
It left him feeling entirely useless and claustrophobic, and he did not like it at all.
A hand touches his back, between his wings, but it’s gone in a flash - when he looks to his side, he sees the warm red frame of Sideswipe, staring out of the window as he had been doing moments ago.
“It’s hard to believe we’re leaving,” Sideswipe says quietly, and Air Raid looks away, ashamed that he is deserting what he had fought so desperately for. Sideswipe turns to him, his facial plates twitching. “I thought I would die there.”
Dying would have been less humiliating than this surrender, a betrayal of the pact Air Raid had made with himself, to fight for his freedom. He had no freedom now, nor did he have a home. He had nothing else left, and that was as clear as the war-torn planet that was becoming smaller and further every moment.
He realizes that Sideswipe is still staring at him, perhaps waiting for a reply, an admission that he felt the same, but Air Raid can’t bring himself to look the other in the optics, can’t bear to see the pain and fear and burning anger he’ll see there, because he knows Sideswipe will see his own. Instead he gives a small nod, leaning against the rail in front of him in an effort to look calm, at peace. He knows it won’t work on Sideswipe, from the way the other stands so rigid, so calculating, but it’s worth a shot.
“I saved you back there.” Air Raid doesn’t know why the other says it - they both know what happened, and restating things isn’t going to help now. But it’s moments like this, when Sideswipe’s voice won’t edge past that soft tone, that Air Raid worries; Sideswipe is normally so brash and loud and attention-grabbing that anything short of a missile to the face is a sure sign that something must be wrong.
Sideswipe’s optics on him have begun to feel like they’re burning holes in the side of his armour, so he spares a quick glance before turning back away and asking, “Why?”
Sideswipe shifts, a subtle slide of metal plating against metal plating that Air Raid’s sensors easily pick up on. “Why what?”
“Why did you save me?”
“What else did you want me to do?”
“You could have left me.” Air Raid clenches his fists, pushing back the emotion of being thankful and vulnerable and needing another mech, because showing weakness was what had got him into this mess. He had loved Cybertron, and now Cybertron was dead. Dying. It was all the same, and he just wouldn’t let it happen again. “You could have just let me die.” He looks down at his feet, at Sideswipe’s leg - fresh welding lines and the faded, dull grey of newly-repaired armour make his silent point, but Sideswipe shrugs.
“I’ll be fine. Ratchet’s a good doc, he’ll fix me up.”
Like any of this could be fixed.
“It can,” Sideswipe continues, and Air Raid realizes that he’d spoken that thought aloud. “It won’t be easy, but things will get better. We won’t have fought for nothing, Raid.”
“How can you be sure of that? Of anything?”
“Remember when I dug you out from under that rubble, and you went on about how we weren’t going to make it back, not in our condition, not together, and I might as well just leave you? Just get out of there while I could and save myself?” He pauses, spreading his arms and looking around pointedly, and Air Raid takes this time to finally meet his gaze. “We made it.”
Air Raid looks away, his optics on the small silhouette of what was once his home, and while it makes him sick just looking at it, he feels some hope curling around his spark. Hope that everything would fix itself, that his fighting would be worth something, and that he wasn’t so alone. Hope that he would fly over the cities and plains of Cybertron once more, feel the air rushing over and under his wings, and have the freedom to live as he wanted.
Hope that maybe he wasn’t longing for something long gone.
When he looks back at Sideswipe, he sees a small smile curling the edges of his mouth plates. The kind of smile Sideswipe gave when he was well and truly happy.
Air Raid can only smile back.
Warnings: Angst, slight spoilers for WfC, very light hints towards death, possible Air Raid/Sideswipe if you squint your eyes and lean to the right
Rating: PG?
Continuity: War for Cybertron
Characters: Sideswipe & Air Raid
Disclaimer: Don’t own, don’t profit, etc.
Prompt: December 23 entry in the advent calendar, “longing for something that has been lost”
From the spaceship, Cybertron looked even more desolate and broken - and small. He’d never wanted to see his planet, his home, looking like this, and now he couldn’t take his optics away from the scene. It was spark-wrenchingly depressing, and he couldn’t get away.
He couldn’t fly away. He was caged inside the ship; the walls squeezed in on him closer and closer every cycle he spent here.
It left him feeling entirely useless and claustrophobic, and he did not like it at all.
A hand touches his back, between his wings, but it’s gone in a flash - when he looks to his side, he sees the warm red frame of Sideswipe, staring out of the window as he had been doing moments ago.
“It’s hard to believe we’re leaving,” Sideswipe says quietly, and Air Raid looks away, ashamed that he is deserting what he had fought so desperately for. Sideswipe turns to him, his facial plates twitching. “I thought I would die there.”
Dying would have been less humiliating than this surrender, a betrayal of the pact Air Raid had made with himself, to fight for his freedom. He had no freedom now, nor did he have a home. He had nothing else left, and that was as clear as the war-torn planet that was becoming smaller and further every moment.
He realizes that Sideswipe is still staring at him, perhaps waiting for a reply, an admission that he felt the same, but Air Raid can’t bring himself to look the other in the optics, can’t bear to see the pain and fear and burning anger he’ll see there, because he knows Sideswipe will see his own. Instead he gives a small nod, leaning against the rail in front of him in an effort to look calm, at peace. He knows it won’t work on Sideswipe, from the way the other stands so rigid, so calculating, but it’s worth a shot.
“I saved you back there.” Air Raid doesn’t know why the other says it - they both know what happened, and restating things isn’t going to help now. But it’s moments like this, when Sideswipe’s voice won’t edge past that soft tone, that Air Raid worries; Sideswipe is normally so brash and loud and attention-grabbing that anything short of a missile to the face is a sure sign that something must be wrong.
Sideswipe’s optics on him have begun to feel like they’re burning holes in the side of his armour, so he spares a quick glance before turning back away and asking, “Why?”
Sideswipe shifts, a subtle slide of metal plating against metal plating that Air Raid’s sensors easily pick up on. “Why what?”
“Why did you save me?”
“What else did you want me to do?”
“You could have left me.” Air Raid clenches his fists, pushing back the emotion of being thankful and vulnerable and needing another mech, because showing weakness was what had got him into this mess. He had loved Cybertron, and now Cybertron was dead. Dying. It was all the same, and he just wouldn’t let it happen again. “You could have just let me die.” He looks down at his feet, at Sideswipe’s leg - fresh welding lines and the faded, dull grey of newly-repaired armour make his silent point, but Sideswipe shrugs.
“I’ll be fine. Ratchet’s a good doc, he’ll fix me up.”
Like any of this could be fixed.
“It can,” Sideswipe continues, and Air Raid realizes that he’d spoken that thought aloud. “It won’t be easy, but things will get better. We won’t have fought for nothing, Raid.”
“How can you be sure of that? Of anything?”
“Remember when I dug you out from under that rubble, and you went on about how we weren’t going to make it back, not in our condition, not together, and I might as well just leave you? Just get out of there while I could and save myself?” He pauses, spreading his arms and looking around pointedly, and Air Raid takes this time to finally meet his gaze. “We made it.”
Air Raid looks away, his optics on the small silhouette of what was once his home, and while it makes him sick just looking at it, he feels some hope curling around his spark. Hope that everything would fix itself, that his fighting would be worth something, and that he wasn’t so alone. Hope that he would fly over the cities and plains of Cybertron once more, feel the air rushing over and under his wings, and have the freedom to live as he wanted.
Hope that maybe he wasn’t longing for something long gone.
When he looks back at Sideswipe, he sees a small smile curling the edges of his mouth plates. The kind of smile Sideswipe gave when he was well and truly happy.
Air Raid can only smile back.