[Bay] Indivisible 6.0
a/n: Almost to the end, folks. Here's another installment in my Indivisible series. Enjoy!
Title: Indivisible 6.0
Universe: post-DotM, borrows from novelization
Characters: OptimusxSideswipe, Megatron, Ratchet
Rating: T
Warning: angst and fluff
Description: The end of the war, and the start of something new.
Sideswipe dragged himself back in time to see the aftermath, the scattered remains of Sentinel Prime and Optimus standing triumphant over Megatron, holding an axe to his twin's helm.
Sideswipe's spark lurched and he grasped a building to keep himself upright, one leg threatening to buckle beneath him. Even from this distance, he could read Optimus' field. He could feel the indecision, and it wasn't hard to pick out the words.
Megatron pleading, difficult to tell whether his offer was sincere or another deception.
Optimus hesitating, staring his brother in the optics and maybe daring to believe.
Sideswipe knew this moment. He had been there before, only Sunstreaker had been defiant, all but daring Sideswipe to strike. He'd believed, until the last second, that Sideswipe wouldn't do it. And maybe buried in that, was a smidgeon of rivalry that threw Sideswipe over the edge.
Optimus would always be a better mech than him. Which was only proven when the axe lowered and Optimus' optics cycled down.
“Leave,” he said, vocals low but not such that Sideswipe couldn't hear them. “And know that you have lost.”
Sideswipe's leg surrendered and he dropped, the warning cries at the back of his processor louder than he could ignore.
Over, his spark shouted at him, it's over.
And then the darkness claimed him.
o0o0o
Sideswipe woke to the sounds of celebration, though he couldn't understand why. Ironhide was dead and too many before him. His HUD was giving him status updates, listing others like Dino and too many humans to name.
The war had been won, but at what cost? Optimus had agreed to a truce, though no one save Sideswipe would understand why. What did that mean for the rest of them?
What did that mean for Sideswipe?
He onlined his optics, staring dully at the warehouse ceiling, wondering if it was worth the effort to move.
“Don't. I haven't finished recalibrating that leg yet.”
Ratchet's voice, a warning, and Sideswipe stopped thinking about moving. He turned his helm, getting a better look at the mech beside him, whose expression did not reflect the joy Sideswipe could hear somewhere beyond the building.
“Will I ever walk again, Doc?” Sideswipe asked, in a flat tone that was an echo of his usual humor.
Ratchet rolled his optics. “Yes, though if I had my say and for the sake of my sanity, I'd keep you berthbound. Somewhere not here.”
Sideswipe forced a dry chuckle. “Some things don't change, I guess.”
“And some things do.” Ratchet paused and looked up from his scanner, tilting his helm. “What's the last thing you remember?”
He didn't wince by sheer force of effort. “Chicago. The battle.” He paused, remembering the look in Optimus' optics, the relief in the slow way he lowered his weapon. “A truce.”
“You could sound a little more excited,” Ratchet said as he turned away, only to return with a cube of energon. “The war's over. Here. Sit up.”
Sideswipe pulled himself upright, grunting as the action pulled on a few fresh welds, and reached for the energon. “It's been over before.”
“Mmm. Good point.” Ratchet stepped back, giving Sideswipe a critical look. “You do know that Megatron left.”
Sideswipe almost choked on his energon. “What?”
Ratchet's field hit him with an almost smug certainty. “He and the surviving Decepticons returned to Cybertron. To rebuild. We will stay on Earth until they - as in Megatron and Optimus - are certain we can integrate without issues.”
“Integrate?”
“Live together again. Peaceably.”
“I know what it means,” Sideswipe snapped, and then hated himself for doing so. He ducked his helm sheepishly. “Sorry.”
Ratchet inclined his helm. “You should talk to Optimus,” he said, which seemed an incongruent thing for him to say. “It might help.”
Sideswipe drained his cube, tossing the empty container to the side. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You've never been very subtle. And Optimus doesn't know the meaning of the word,” Ratchet replied and turned away, humor edging into his field. “Take it easy on that leg. If you frag it up again, you can suffer for awhile.”
Sideswipe gaped at the medic. “But--”
“He had a meeting with Mearing and the President but it should be done already. He's probably by the river,” Ratchet added, busying himself with some menial task, his back to Sideswipe. It was the closest thing Ratchet had to a dismissal.
Sideswipe slid off the berth, tested his knee, and found that it rotated smoothly. He would have no issues with it. Though he would listen to Ratchet and not engage in anything overly acrobatic.
He paused, however. “You're not celebrating?”
“No,” Ratchet said.
Sideswipe waited for him to elaborate, but Ratchet didn't. And well, Sideswipe could understand why. So he left it at that. Sometimes, a victory could feel hollow and maybe that was the case for Ratchet.
Sideswipe rolled out of the makeshift medbay, wincing at the onslaught of noise that attacked his audials. It was dark, but the sky was lit up with fireworks, and there was music and cheering and chatter. Helicopters wove in and out of the broken buildings in Chicago, a grim search for survivors even amid the celebration.
Sideswipe cycled a ventilation and scanned for Optimus, his sensors picking up the Prime near the river, as Ratchet had said.
Optimus stood like a silent guardian, staring out over Chicago, his hands clasped behind his backplate. He didn't turn when Sideswipe approached him, though he had to have known Sideswipe was coming. Optimus' battle programming and sensors were too acute to miss an oncoming frontliner.
“So,” Sideswipe said, coming to a stop beside Optimus, staring at the ruins of one of the human's great cities. “A truce.”
“Yes.” An undefinable emotion rippled through Optimus' field as it reached out, gesturing for Sideswipe's own. “Killing him would have solved nothing.”
“Optimus, you know you don't have to explain yourself to me.”
“No, I do not.” Optimus shifted, unclasping his hands, and the full weight of his gaze fell on Sideswipe. “Because you, of all my Autobots, will understand.”
Something squirmed, restless and unkind, through Sideswipe's internals. The urge to shout and stake a claim, made his plating clamp down.
“Yeah,” he said and hated himself for the selfish thoughts that tried to override his spark. “Congratulations, by the way. It's finally over.” He thought he should walk away while he still had some dignity.
“One could also consider it a new beginning.”
Sideswipe managed a smile, lopsided at best. “That, too.” He drew in a ragged ventilation. “Starting over. Second chances. All that altruistic slag. That's what it's about, right?”
It hurt. It wasn't supposed to, but it did.
Optimus' battle mask slid aside and he frowned. “Sideswipe, Megatron is gone.”
“Yeah, that's what Ratchet said.” Sideswipe rolled his shoulders, wondering if he could make a graceful exit. “Eventually, we'll get to go back, too. And everything will be as it should be.”
Except Sunstreaker would still be dead and Sideswipe would always carry the knowledge that he was the one to land the final blow. Was he bitter that Optimus was able to keep his twin when Sideswipe hadn't? Maybe.
He fought back a sigh. “Optimus--”
There were no mistaking the arms that wrapped around him, or the field that washed over him from helm to pedes, warm and familiar. He hadn't seen Optimus move, nor read the intention in his optics, but the embrace had enclosed him all the same.
“Megatron will continue to be Lord High Protector, that is a term of the truce,” Optimus said, his vocals rumbling over Sideswipe. “But he will never again share my berth. That privilege has been reserved for another.”
Sideswipe's intakes hitched. He brought up his arms, wrapping them around Optimus, daring to believe that Optimus was offering what Sideswipe thought he was offering.
“And in case I was not clear, that mech is you,” Optimus added, fuzzy warmth in his energy field. “Provided you want to accept the invitation.”
“Mechs will talk,” Sideswipe said. He wasn't protesting, however, simply making an observation.
Amusement rumbled through Optimus' vocalizer. “Since when has a little gossip bothered you?”
“Since never. I was worried about you.” Sideswipe couldn't stop the grin that formed on his lipplates, though Optimus couldn't see it. “You do realize we're in plain sight, right?”
“I am aware.”
“Just making sure.”
The war was over, Sideswipe said to himself.
Maybe now he could believe it.
***
a/n: One more part to go because Megatron wanted to have more than a cameo so he takes it upon himself to size up his "replacement" (Megatron's words, not mine) and then I can call this series complete. Unless they choose to talk to me again which is how it ended up seven parts in the first place. :)
Feedback is welcome and appreciated. I do hope you enjoyed!
This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/244549.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.
Title: Indivisible 6.0
Universe: post-DotM, borrows from novelization
Characters: OptimusxSideswipe, Megatron, Ratchet
Rating: T
Warning: angst and fluff
Description: The end of the war, and the start of something new.
Sideswipe dragged himself back in time to see the aftermath, the scattered remains of Sentinel Prime and Optimus standing triumphant over Megatron, holding an axe to his twin's helm.
Sideswipe's spark lurched and he grasped a building to keep himself upright, one leg threatening to buckle beneath him. Even from this distance, he could read Optimus' field. He could feel the indecision, and it wasn't hard to pick out the words.
Megatron pleading, difficult to tell whether his offer was sincere or another deception.
Optimus hesitating, staring his brother in the optics and maybe daring to believe.
Sideswipe knew this moment. He had been there before, only Sunstreaker had been defiant, all but daring Sideswipe to strike. He'd believed, until the last second, that Sideswipe wouldn't do it. And maybe buried in that, was a smidgeon of rivalry that threw Sideswipe over the edge.
Optimus would always be a better mech than him. Which was only proven when the axe lowered and Optimus' optics cycled down.
“Leave,” he said, vocals low but not such that Sideswipe couldn't hear them. “And know that you have lost.”
Sideswipe's leg surrendered and he dropped, the warning cries at the back of his processor louder than he could ignore.
Over, his spark shouted at him, it's over.
And then the darkness claimed him.
o0o0o
Sideswipe woke to the sounds of celebration, though he couldn't understand why. Ironhide was dead and too many before him. His HUD was giving him status updates, listing others like Dino and too many humans to name.
The war had been won, but at what cost? Optimus had agreed to a truce, though no one save Sideswipe would understand why. What did that mean for the rest of them?
What did that mean for Sideswipe?
He onlined his optics, staring dully at the warehouse ceiling, wondering if it was worth the effort to move.
“Don't. I haven't finished recalibrating that leg yet.”
Ratchet's voice, a warning, and Sideswipe stopped thinking about moving. He turned his helm, getting a better look at the mech beside him, whose expression did not reflect the joy Sideswipe could hear somewhere beyond the building.
“Will I ever walk again, Doc?” Sideswipe asked, in a flat tone that was an echo of his usual humor.
Ratchet rolled his optics. “Yes, though if I had my say and for the sake of my sanity, I'd keep you berthbound. Somewhere not here.”
Sideswipe forced a dry chuckle. “Some things don't change, I guess.”
“And some things do.” Ratchet paused and looked up from his scanner, tilting his helm. “What's the last thing you remember?”
He didn't wince by sheer force of effort. “Chicago. The battle.” He paused, remembering the look in Optimus' optics, the relief in the slow way he lowered his weapon. “A truce.”
“You could sound a little more excited,” Ratchet said as he turned away, only to return with a cube of energon. “The war's over. Here. Sit up.”
Sideswipe pulled himself upright, grunting as the action pulled on a few fresh welds, and reached for the energon. “It's been over before.”
“Mmm. Good point.” Ratchet stepped back, giving Sideswipe a critical look. “You do know that Megatron left.”
Sideswipe almost choked on his energon. “What?”
Ratchet's field hit him with an almost smug certainty. “He and the surviving Decepticons returned to Cybertron. To rebuild. We will stay on Earth until they - as in Megatron and Optimus - are certain we can integrate without issues.”
“Integrate?”
“Live together again. Peaceably.”
“I know what it means,” Sideswipe snapped, and then hated himself for doing so. He ducked his helm sheepishly. “Sorry.”
Ratchet inclined his helm. “You should talk to Optimus,” he said, which seemed an incongruent thing for him to say. “It might help.”
Sideswipe drained his cube, tossing the empty container to the side. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You've never been very subtle. And Optimus doesn't know the meaning of the word,” Ratchet replied and turned away, humor edging into his field. “Take it easy on that leg. If you frag it up again, you can suffer for awhile.”
Sideswipe gaped at the medic. “But--”
“He had a meeting with Mearing and the President but it should be done already. He's probably by the river,” Ratchet added, busying himself with some menial task, his back to Sideswipe. It was the closest thing Ratchet had to a dismissal.
Sideswipe slid off the berth, tested his knee, and found that it rotated smoothly. He would have no issues with it. Though he would listen to Ratchet and not engage in anything overly acrobatic.
He paused, however. “You're not celebrating?”
“No,” Ratchet said.
Sideswipe waited for him to elaborate, but Ratchet didn't. And well, Sideswipe could understand why. So he left it at that. Sometimes, a victory could feel hollow and maybe that was the case for Ratchet.
Sideswipe rolled out of the makeshift medbay, wincing at the onslaught of noise that attacked his audials. It was dark, but the sky was lit up with fireworks, and there was music and cheering and chatter. Helicopters wove in and out of the broken buildings in Chicago, a grim search for survivors even amid the celebration.
Sideswipe cycled a ventilation and scanned for Optimus, his sensors picking up the Prime near the river, as Ratchet had said.
Optimus stood like a silent guardian, staring out over Chicago, his hands clasped behind his backplate. He didn't turn when Sideswipe approached him, though he had to have known Sideswipe was coming. Optimus' battle programming and sensors were too acute to miss an oncoming frontliner.
“So,” Sideswipe said, coming to a stop beside Optimus, staring at the ruins of one of the human's great cities. “A truce.”
“Yes.” An undefinable emotion rippled through Optimus' field as it reached out, gesturing for Sideswipe's own. “Killing him would have solved nothing.”
“Optimus, you know you don't have to explain yourself to me.”
“No, I do not.” Optimus shifted, unclasping his hands, and the full weight of his gaze fell on Sideswipe. “Because you, of all my Autobots, will understand.”
Something squirmed, restless and unkind, through Sideswipe's internals. The urge to shout and stake a claim, made his plating clamp down.
“Yeah,” he said and hated himself for the selfish thoughts that tried to override his spark. “Congratulations, by the way. It's finally over.” He thought he should walk away while he still had some dignity.
“One could also consider it a new beginning.”
Sideswipe managed a smile, lopsided at best. “That, too.” He drew in a ragged ventilation. “Starting over. Second chances. All that altruistic slag. That's what it's about, right?”
It hurt. It wasn't supposed to, but it did.
Optimus' battle mask slid aside and he frowned. “Sideswipe, Megatron is gone.”
“Yeah, that's what Ratchet said.” Sideswipe rolled his shoulders, wondering if he could make a graceful exit. “Eventually, we'll get to go back, too. And everything will be as it should be.”
Except Sunstreaker would still be dead and Sideswipe would always carry the knowledge that he was the one to land the final blow. Was he bitter that Optimus was able to keep his twin when Sideswipe hadn't? Maybe.
He fought back a sigh. “Optimus--”
There were no mistaking the arms that wrapped around him, or the field that washed over him from helm to pedes, warm and familiar. He hadn't seen Optimus move, nor read the intention in his optics, but the embrace had enclosed him all the same.
“Megatron will continue to be Lord High Protector, that is a term of the truce,” Optimus said, his vocals rumbling over Sideswipe. “But he will never again share my berth. That privilege has been reserved for another.”
Sideswipe's intakes hitched. He brought up his arms, wrapping them around Optimus, daring to believe that Optimus was offering what Sideswipe thought he was offering.
“And in case I was not clear, that mech is you,” Optimus added, fuzzy warmth in his energy field. “Provided you want to accept the invitation.”
“Mechs will talk,” Sideswipe said. He wasn't protesting, however, simply making an observation.
Amusement rumbled through Optimus' vocalizer. “Since when has a little gossip bothered you?”
“Since never. I was worried about you.” Sideswipe couldn't stop the grin that formed on his lipplates, though Optimus couldn't see it. “You do realize we're in plain sight, right?”
“I am aware.”
“Just making sure.”
The war was over, Sideswipe said to himself.
Maybe now he could believe it.
***
a/n: One more part to go because Megatron wanted to have more than a cameo so he takes it upon himself to size up his "replacement" (Megatron's words, not mine) and then I can call this series complete. Unless they choose to talk to me again which is how it ended up seven parts in the first place. :)
Feedback is welcome and appreciated. I do hope you enjoyed!
This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/244549.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.