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ajremixTitle: No Survivors 5
Fandom: Transformers IDW
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4021
Characters: Xantium, Broadside, Fireflight, Sandstorm, Blaster, Tracks, Arcee
Summary: Character death. Death is not the greatest pain in life. The greatest pain belongs to those left alive. Note: While this draws elements from my (sprawling) drabble series What’s Wrong with a Little Destruction?, it’s not necessary to read it to understand the fic, only to get the full effect. Special thanks to Vaeru, Cafei and Meallanmouse for being my betas
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Xantium- like most things since the fighting started –was overhauled and updated for the war effort. She was an old style cargo carrier before being converted into the Wrecker’s battlecruiser. The fighting itself she was never fond of, but she believed in the ideals behind the Wreckers, and each member of the strike force endeared themselves to her. They took care of her, never abused her, and kept her away from any direct fight as best they could, and whenever she had to fight, Springer would always run a hand over her panels and tell her ‘I’m sorry’.
Over time she had come to not mind the fighting. When she fought, it meant that her mechs needed her, that they were in trouble, and she’d be ready to move in and protect them with her life. She was the silent member, diligent and always complacent, and they thanked and cared for her just as tirelessly as she transported them. Xantium knew all their habits and mannerisms, she knew all the secrets they couldn’t tell each other but said against her thick walls where she’d keep them locked tight. From the first crew she ever flew to their current roster, Xantium loved each one of the Wreckers, and each member they lost, she suffered with them.
This one, though, Springer’s death had shocked her, and she did her duty in a numb haze. Xantium tried to ease their pain as best she could- had dimmed the lights in the medbay when Topspin couldn’t take looking at the body anymore, guided ‘bots to each other when they needed someone to be there –but her silent presence wasn’t enough for them. She hummed to them soothingly, turned away others when it seemed like someone needed to just be alone for a while. If anyone had asked, Xantium would have admitted that Roadbuster worried her the most. She knew how close the two were, how much Roadbuster had cared for Springer. She had hoped, just like high command, that being placed in charge would have the combat vehicle shaken back into action, but she knew all the same that it wouldn’t. She knew something that high command didn’t- she knew Roadbuster had yet to even admit, let alone accept, Springer’s death at all.
She didn’t want to do it, going around any of her mechs’ backs like this, but it seemed the only way to make him face that which he so terribly didn’t want to. Xantium pinged the Orbital Hub’s database, going through the network until she found the server she needed. She left a note at Smokescreen’s station, requesting his taking the time to speak to Roadbuster. Though not exactly a documented psychiatrist, Xantium knew the mech as well as the Wreckers did- he had a history, a friendship with them, and his patience and insight would do more for Roadbuster than what the others, all still emotional wrecks, could.
As Xantium retreated from the Hub, movement caught her attention. Each of the Wreckers had areas that they tended to congregate in depending on their mood- spots that were designated as theirs. Broadside’s were in or around the cargo hold, a source of comfort since his original designation was as a cargo vessel. Xantium had to admit a certain fondness for the large Wrecker simply for that reason, both being shipping vessels before anything else. She lowered the lights in the hold slightly and upped the vibrations that ran through it. Broadside leaned against the bulkhead, optic ban dimmed and just let the thrumming echo through him.
He’d been running himself ragged again, she could tell. Like most carriers he had the tendency of putting others’ needs over his own. Broadside’s compassion for his team moved Xantium, and she cradled him as best she could whenever she could. Especially with all that had been happening recently.
As she hummed him to a near recharge, Xantium noticed a mech coming over the landing platform. He wasn’t one of hers, but she recognized him all the same, an Aerialbot. Rather the one she liked because of what he did for one of hers. She obediently opened her doors before he even reached the sensors, and Fireflight jumped a little.
He knew that Xantium was a sentient ship- had worked in a few himself –but he never had one acknowledge him so openly before. Fireflight hesitated, and the lights around the doors flashed- impatiently if he were to say anything about it. As he stepped through, another door near the end of the hall opened up, and carefully –though not slow enough to warrant another encouragement –he went through that one and the next few that opened up to him.
“Are you,” he asked hesitantly, “leading me to Sandstorm? I need to talk to him so…” Fireflight fell silent, but once he heard the sound of his voice in the strangely empty halls that he had always known to be vibrant with energy and noise, he couldn’t stop himself. “I’ve never had a ship help me out like this before. You must care about the Wreckers a lot. Sandstorm told me about the things you’d do to help them out, always being there for them and just caring all the time.” He raised his hand up, hesitated, and then traced his palm over the hall as he walked. “I just want to say thank you. I-I know we’re not together anymore, but I can’t help but worry over him sometimes. And the other Wreckers are all great mechs. So thanks for taking care of them.” He smiled a little self-consciously and patted the hall. In return the walls gave a pleased rumble.
“She does like you, you know.”
Caught in mid-stride trying to turn, Fireflight nearly fell over. “B-Broadside!” He wobbled, catching himself unsteadily against a doorframe. “I… didn’t know anyone was here.” Still a little unsteady, Fireflight righted himself. “I’m not bothering you, am I?”
“Xantium told me you were here.” Pausing to give the wall his own pat, Broadside strode over to the Aerialbot. “She knows Sandstorm hasn’t been the same since he left you. She thinks you’re good for him so it’s no surprise she’d want to help you.” Towering over the much smaller jet, Broadside tilted his head to one side. “He’ll most likely be on the observation deck. I’ll take you to him.”
“Thank you,” Fireflight told him. He looked up at the ceiling as the triplechanger moved passed and smiled. “Thank you, too.” He hurried to catch up. They made it to a lift and, stepping inside, Fireflight admitted, “I didn’t know anyone told Xantium about me.”
“Even if no one did, she’d know anyway. We’re inside of her, after all. There’s nothing we can do here that she doesn’t know about.”
“I see.” The smaller mech looked away. Then he asked awkwardly, “Do… was I really good for Sandstorm?”
“There wasn’t one of us that doubted it.”
“Then why…”
Broadside’s optics flickered to Fireflight as he fell silent. “If you were about to ask me why he broke it off with you, I can’t really say. I could tell you why I think he did it, why the others think he did, but none of us knows the actual answer.”
“Sandstorm said he… I think…” he didn’t know how much exactly to tell Broadside and so he fidgeted. “Did he look up to Springer a lot?”
“We all did.” Broadside looked down at the jet again, judging something in the latter’s expression. “But you’re wondering how much, aren’t you?”
Deciding to bite the bullet Fireflight said, “I think… I think Sandstorm wanted to be like Springer.”
Another long look had Fireflight resisting the urge to shrink in on himself. He wondered if the Wreckers realized how intimidating their battlemasks were or if that was the entire reason they wore theirs constantly. “So that’s why he came back.”
“I- sorry?”
He just looked back at the doors. “Yes, Springer was similar to what Sandstorm wanted to aspire to. He’s changed a lot since he first joined the Wreckers- a damn lot.” The lift came to a stop, and the doors opened. Broadside stepped out, followed by Fireflight. “As he came to accept and trust us, he started shedding a lot of the cynicism and suspicion he’d spent his entire life developing. At first it was just because Springer had what Sandstorm wanted- power, respect, the freedom to do what he wanted and the strength to back it up. So he stayed with us and tried to dissect just what it was in Springer that led him to gain that. Over time he saw the compassion and attachments and love Springer had didn’t make him weak- it made him stronger. But those kinds of things scared Sandstorm, and no matter how badly he wanted to live just as openly and freely, he couldn’t bring himself to love as unconditionally as Springer did.
“I believe he really did try with you. And I think he really does love you, but it’s something that frightens him still. Emotional betrayals are difficult to get over, and I know he’s used them against ‘bots before and he knows just how devastating they can be. He’s afraid of giving that kind of power for anyone to use against him- even you.” The two came to a stop outside a large set of doors. Xantium kept them closed as Broadside turned to look at Fireflight in the optic. “Sandstorm doesn’t know how to deal with these kinds of things, you have to understand that. He doesn’t understand how Springer could have so many attachments and still function like he did, he doesn’t understand how Hot Rod and Arcee could love him as deeply as they did knowing they could lose him, lose a part of themselves. I’m not trying to make any excuses for him, I just want you to understand where it is he’s coming from.”
Fireflight nodded, expression set. “I understand. Thank you.” He turned to the doors and Xantium opened them for him. Standing as a faded silhouette against the long windows was Sandstorm. The doors slid shut behind Fireflight, drawing the Wrecker’s attention.
He started at the sight of Fireflight and quickly turned away. “Go away.”
“No.”
“Go away, Fireflight.”
“No.”
“Fine.” Abruptly Sandstorm turned toward the side doors. “I’ll go.” But as Sandstorm reached the doors they stayed shut. He froze, then placed his hands on the doors. “Don’t do this to me,” he whispered to them. “Don’t do this to me, please.”
As Fireflight stopped just outside his personal perimeter, he froze again. “Sandstorm, I want to talk to you.”
“I don’t have anything to say to you.”
“Well I do,” came the insistent reply. “So listen. Please.” Though the triplechanger still didn’t turn towards him, the fact he made no moves to leave encouraged Fireflight to go on. “I know you’re hurting and I know you’re angry and afraid, and I understand that part of you thinks this is a betrayal and part of you knows it’s not, and you’re too confused and hurt to know which one to listen to.” Fireflight took a step closer. Sandstorm twitched slightly but didn’t move. “I know all this, and I also know I don’t understand exactly what it is you’re going through, but I want to be here for you.”
When Sandstorm didn’t make any motion to speak, Fireflight went on. “You think you need to be what Springer was in order to get the same kind of happiness he did, but you don’t. I know you worried about having to choose between the Wreckers and me, and I know you’ve felt guilty because it was always the Wreckers every time.” Fireflight looked down, hands clenched. “I know because I worried about the same thing and I’ve felt guilty because it was always my brothers that came first for me, too. Arcee told me once, even with how much Springer loved the two of them, she and Hot Rod knew his first duty would always be to you all. They understood that, they didn’t want to stand in his way, make him feel obligated into choosing them over his family and I want you to understand that, too.”
He stepped forward, then again, and put a hand against Sandstorm’s back. He expected the triplechanger to walk away, but was relieved when he didn’t. “I love you, not Springer. You don’t see the kind of mech you are, but you’re not this cold, sparkless, selfish monster everyone has you believing you are. And you don’t have to be like him for others to see that- the ones that matter, anyway.”
At that point Sandstorm did walk away, but it was to a table where he sat heavily down, not looking up at the jet. “He changed my life,” he told Fireflight quietly. “Not just because he brought me into the Wreckers, either. There was a point- a long, long time ago –where I believed there were truly decent ‘bots out there. Honest and caring and every single time I thought I found one of them, they all turned out to be liars and each one of them broke something inside me.” The orange mech clenched a fist against the smooth surface. “Broke me until I started breaking them first. Springer brought back that idea of goodness somehow. None of the Wreckers had any kind of ulterior motive, didn’t care enough to take advantage of me, of each other. They didn’t have a reason to, but I kept trying so damned hard to find some reason that they would. I couldn’t trust any of them because I didn’t know how to anymore.
“But he built me back up. He gave me responsibilities and duties, he asked for advice, depended on me- Springer always put himself in situations where he had no choice but to trust that I would help him, and never once did he doubt me. He believed in me so readily that I had to trust him back, and that scared me out of my processor.” Sandstorm braced his head against his arms. “And he just let me come around in my own time. Didn’t try to change me or force me to trust him or the others, just kept me focused, kept pushing me to push myself. He accepted me for who I was, what I could do and he never judged me. No one else ever did that.”
Before he could stop himself Fireflight said, “I did.” Sandstorm stiffened and Fireflight wondered when his big, fat vocalizer would stop ruining things for him.
The triplechanger looked up and for a brief, brief moment Fireflight imagined he could see Sandstorm’s optics flashing desperately under his optic band. “Flight…” he said in a cautious tone, “I spent my entire life worrying only about me. When I joined the Wreckers it took me a long time to understand that I was part of a whole. It took me a long time to realize I had a family. I care about you- a lot –and there’s never a day that I don’t wish I handled this better. Hurting you was the worst mistake I ever made and I’m sorry I’m just so… so stupid.” He couldn’t look the Aerialbot in the optics, head hanging low. “I can’t be what you want me to be. You mean a lot to me, Flight, but…I don’t know how to care about you the way I should.”
There was a long pause as the answer tried to sort itself out in Fireflight’s head. He stepped toward the table, leaning against the back of a chair. “I thought you were doing a pretty good job before,” he said softly. “I don’t really know how to love someone that isn’t one of my brothers, but I don’t think it’s that much different, it’s just a different kind of love, you know? I know you’re not perfect, I know I’m not perfect and I know our relationship wasn’t always fun, but I still want to be with you. I know that you’re a gambler, I know that you lie, I know you’ve hurt other ‘bots before, and I know you’re not afraid to use someone’s weakness against them if you have to. I know this and I’ve seen parts of it, and I know you hate those parts of you or you’re afraid that I’ll hate you because of them, but through it all I still love you. You know that I’m overly trusting, I can be too naïve and dense at times and easily distracted and I’m dependent on my brothers, but despite all that, do you still care about me?”
Sandstorm looked at Fireflight with his all-too hopeful expression, still hesitant and afraid and so very open, and it made Sandstorm just as afraid and just as hopeful. As he looked upon Fireflight, he remembered all the little things about the Aerialbot that drove him mad, the habits that did nothing but aggravate him at times, and he remembered how much he missed every single one of them since he left. And he remembered being scared about how much he wanted to go back to those frustrated times, because as exasperated as he got, Sandstorm still thought on Fireflight fondly and never once thought he wasn’t worth a moment of it.
“Yes,” he rasped out. Some pent up emotion spilled out of his spark as he admitted it, and Sandstorm reached over to grab Fireflight’s hands. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I was just so stupid and afraid and I miss you so damned much. I wish I were a better mech. I wish I could be what you actually deserve, and I’m sorry I couldn’t just accept how lucky I was to have you in my life-“
Fireflight hushed him, reaching over to pull Sandstorm into a tight hug that neither ever wanted to pull back from. Neither said a word, having spent so long dancing around each other they could read the emotions in the thrumming of their sparks.
This time they promised never to let the other go again.
~*~*~*~
The first thing Blaster did when he went up to the command center was do a double take. Then he went over to Tracks, pulling him aside by the arm. “What is Arcee doing here?” the communications officer hissed lowly.
Tracks looked confused at the question. “She offered to help out for the shift since we’ve been shorthanded recently.”
“She was up here when I got off! When did she show up?”
Looking all the more confused, the blue mech said, “About five cycles ago.”
Blaster rubbed a hand over his face. “That’s when Wheeljack told me he ran her out of engineering. Where apparently she went to after I chased her out of here.”
Now the confusion turned into concern. “You mean she’s been putting herself on triple shifts? Why?”
“I think it’s more than her simply putting in for extra time. She’s been avoiding medical checks and has been refusing inquires about going back into the field.”
Tracks looked briefly at Arcee’s back and crossed his arms. “What do you think it is, then?”
“She’s working herself into exhaustion. Jazz told me it didn’t look like she was keeping up with any kind of maintenance and I think she’s been avoiding Hot Rod, too.”
“You don’t think she’s… she wouldn’t…”
Blaster knew what Tracks was trying to say, and Blaster wished he could say confidently that he didn’t think she would. But the hesitance was there, and the expression on Tracks’s faceplate made Blaster wish he could’ve taken that hesitance back.
But he couldn’t, and all he could say was, “I don’t know. I’m reluctant to put her on suicide watch…” Because that would be a sign that he didn’t trust her, that he thought she was weak, that she didn’t have anything else to live for. And even if it turned out to be a false alarm something like that would never come off her record. Or be forgotten by her fellow Autobots. “Maybe,” Blaster said hopefully, “she’s just trying to keep from thinking about it.”
“Pushing herself like this is dangerous,” Tracks said with a shake of his head. He dropped his arms and turned to make his way towards the femme. “We won’t report her just yet, but I’m dismissing her.”
“Hey, Tracks- wait!” A hand gripping against the blue back rocked Tracks to a halt. “Lemme talk to her. See if I can’t get a handle on just what’s going on in her processor.”
Tracks didn’t seem too happy with the idea, and Blaster wondered if he hadn’t already begun the ruin of Arcee’s career by bringing the possibility of suicide up with the other mech. But he nodded and stepped back and though he kept a close optic on the two of them he made no move closer.
As he approached, Blaster made notes on Arcee: the faded color of her optics, her unwashed appearance. Her hands still worked quick enough on the keys, but he could see her backtracking several times for simple mistakes, her sharpness gone and replaced with a sluggish inefficiency. He put a hand to her shoulder component. “Hey.”
She looked up- reaction much slower than it usually was –and it took a moment longer for her to focus on who it was addressing her. Blaster wondered exactly how long it had been since she last recharged at all. “Oh. Hi.”
“We need to talk.”
“Not really,” Arcee mumbled, trying to figure out where in the code she lost her place. “I’m busy.”
“You’re not actually on duty. We need to talk.”
“Please,” she told Blaster quietly. “I really don’t want to.”
He frowned and leaned down even as she ducked her head. “Arcee- do you realize what you’re doing to yourself? You’re worrying everyone.”
She didn’t look up.
“Arcee-“
“I know. But I can’t-“ when she moved toward the keys again, Blaster grabbed her wrists, “please- I can’t. If I stop I-I’ll,” Arcee didn’t pull away, but she was trembling. “If I don’t, I’ll have to face this and I can’t. I can’t deal with it Blaster- I’m sorry but I can’t.”
He was aware of the other ‘bots in the command center watching them- trying to act like they weren’t. Tracks went around the circuit, focusing them back on their jobs with presence alone.
“Maybe not alone,” Blaster told her softly, “but you have Hot Rod.”
“And how long will I have him?” She hung limply in Blaster’s grip, her body sagging on every support structure, and Blaster almost thought she’d fall to the floor. “I wish I were more selfish,” she whispered, so soft the red mech had to strain to hear her. “I should’ve demanded Springer spend more time with me, for him to take less risky missions. If I pushed him hard enough-“
“Springer wouldn’t have buckled to it. You know that.”
“But he wouldn’t have stayed with me. He would’ve left me behind and then I wouldn’t be broken.”
That made Blaster’s spark go cold. “Do you really regret loving him that much?”
“No.” Her blue optics were quickly fading to gray and her words came out as a breath. “I wish I did.”
“Arcee? Arcee!” Blaster grabbed her as she listed to the side, shaking her shoulders. “Dammit- Blaster to medical.”
“Hoist here, what is it?”
“I’m bringing down Arcee,” he said, doing a quick scan. Behind him the other ‘bots were muttering until Tracks snapped at them to stay quiet and focus on their monitors. “She’s exhausted herself into stasis.”
“Oh, dear. I’ll have a berth prepared for her.”
“Understood. Blaster out.” Quickly he gathered the smaller ‘bot into his arms and stood. Tracks watched him with a masked expression, and Blaster wanted to tell him something- that it wasn’t her fault, that she’d be fine, not to tell anyone what happened. But he couldn’t find the words so he ducked his head and hurried out.
Fandom: Transformers IDW
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4021
Characters: Xantium, Broadside, Fireflight, Sandstorm, Blaster, Tracks, Arcee
Summary: Character death. Death is not the greatest pain in life. The greatest pain belongs to those left alive. Note: While this draws elements from my (sprawling) drabble series What’s Wrong with a Little Destruction?, it’s not necessary to read it to understand the fic, only to get the full effect. Special thanks to Vaeru, Cafei and Meallanmouse for being my betas
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Xantium- like most things since the fighting started –was overhauled and updated for the war effort. She was an old style cargo carrier before being converted into the Wrecker’s battlecruiser. The fighting itself she was never fond of, but she believed in the ideals behind the Wreckers, and each member of the strike force endeared themselves to her. They took care of her, never abused her, and kept her away from any direct fight as best they could, and whenever she had to fight, Springer would always run a hand over her panels and tell her ‘I’m sorry’.
Over time she had come to not mind the fighting. When she fought, it meant that her mechs needed her, that they were in trouble, and she’d be ready to move in and protect them with her life. She was the silent member, diligent and always complacent, and they thanked and cared for her just as tirelessly as she transported them. Xantium knew all their habits and mannerisms, she knew all the secrets they couldn’t tell each other but said against her thick walls where she’d keep them locked tight. From the first crew she ever flew to their current roster, Xantium loved each one of the Wreckers, and each member they lost, she suffered with them.
This one, though, Springer’s death had shocked her, and she did her duty in a numb haze. Xantium tried to ease their pain as best she could- had dimmed the lights in the medbay when Topspin couldn’t take looking at the body anymore, guided ‘bots to each other when they needed someone to be there –but her silent presence wasn’t enough for them. She hummed to them soothingly, turned away others when it seemed like someone needed to just be alone for a while. If anyone had asked, Xantium would have admitted that Roadbuster worried her the most. She knew how close the two were, how much Roadbuster had cared for Springer. She had hoped, just like high command, that being placed in charge would have the combat vehicle shaken back into action, but she knew all the same that it wouldn’t. She knew something that high command didn’t- she knew Roadbuster had yet to even admit, let alone accept, Springer’s death at all.
She didn’t want to do it, going around any of her mechs’ backs like this, but it seemed the only way to make him face that which he so terribly didn’t want to. Xantium pinged the Orbital Hub’s database, going through the network until she found the server she needed. She left a note at Smokescreen’s station, requesting his taking the time to speak to Roadbuster. Though not exactly a documented psychiatrist, Xantium knew the mech as well as the Wreckers did- he had a history, a friendship with them, and his patience and insight would do more for Roadbuster than what the others, all still emotional wrecks, could.
As Xantium retreated from the Hub, movement caught her attention. Each of the Wreckers had areas that they tended to congregate in depending on their mood- spots that were designated as theirs. Broadside’s were in or around the cargo hold, a source of comfort since his original designation was as a cargo vessel. Xantium had to admit a certain fondness for the large Wrecker simply for that reason, both being shipping vessels before anything else. She lowered the lights in the hold slightly and upped the vibrations that ran through it. Broadside leaned against the bulkhead, optic ban dimmed and just let the thrumming echo through him.
He’d been running himself ragged again, she could tell. Like most carriers he had the tendency of putting others’ needs over his own. Broadside’s compassion for his team moved Xantium, and she cradled him as best she could whenever she could. Especially with all that had been happening recently.
As she hummed him to a near recharge, Xantium noticed a mech coming over the landing platform. He wasn’t one of hers, but she recognized him all the same, an Aerialbot. Rather the one she liked because of what he did for one of hers. She obediently opened her doors before he even reached the sensors, and Fireflight jumped a little.
He knew that Xantium was a sentient ship- had worked in a few himself –but he never had one acknowledge him so openly before. Fireflight hesitated, and the lights around the doors flashed- impatiently if he were to say anything about it. As he stepped through, another door near the end of the hall opened up, and carefully –though not slow enough to warrant another encouragement –he went through that one and the next few that opened up to him.
“Are you,” he asked hesitantly, “leading me to Sandstorm? I need to talk to him so…” Fireflight fell silent, but once he heard the sound of his voice in the strangely empty halls that he had always known to be vibrant with energy and noise, he couldn’t stop himself. “I’ve never had a ship help me out like this before. You must care about the Wreckers a lot. Sandstorm told me about the things you’d do to help them out, always being there for them and just caring all the time.” He raised his hand up, hesitated, and then traced his palm over the hall as he walked. “I just want to say thank you. I-I know we’re not together anymore, but I can’t help but worry over him sometimes. And the other Wreckers are all great mechs. So thanks for taking care of them.” He smiled a little self-consciously and patted the hall. In return the walls gave a pleased rumble.
“She does like you, you know.”
Caught in mid-stride trying to turn, Fireflight nearly fell over. “B-Broadside!” He wobbled, catching himself unsteadily against a doorframe. “I… didn’t know anyone was here.” Still a little unsteady, Fireflight righted himself. “I’m not bothering you, am I?”
“Xantium told me you were here.” Pausing to give the wall his own pat, Broadside strode over to the Aerialbot. “She knows Sandstorm hasn’t been the same since he left you. She thinks you’re good for him so it’s no surprise she’d want to help you.” Towering over the much smaller jet, Broadside tilted his head to one side. “He’ll most likely be on the observation deck. I’ll take you to him.”
“Thank you,” Fireflight told him. He looked up at the ceiling as the triplechanger moved passed and smiled. “Thank you, too.” He hurried to catch up. They made it to a lift and, stepping inside, Fireflight admitted, “I didn’t know anyone told Xantium about me.”
“Even if no one did, she’d know anyway. We’re inside of her, after all. There’s nothing we can do here that she doesn’t know about.”
“I see.” The smaller mech looked away. Then he asked awkwardly, “Do… was I really good for Sandstorm?”
“There wasn’t one of us that doubted it.”
“Then why…”
Broadside’s optics flickered to Fireflight as he fell silent. “If you were about to ask me why he broke it off with you, I can’t really say. I could tell you why I think he did it, why the others think he did, but none of us knows the actual answer.”
“Sandstorm said he… I think…” he didn’t know how much exactly to tell Broadside and so he fidgeted. “Did he look up to Springer a lot?”
“We all did.” Broadside looked down at the jet again, judging something in the latter’s expression. “But you’re wondering how much, aren’t you?”
Deciding to bite the bullet Fireflight said, “I think… I think Sandstorm wanted to be like Springer.”
Another long look had Fireflight resisting the urge to shrink in on himself. He wondered if the Wreckers realized how intimidating their battlemasks were or if that was the entire reason they wore theirs constantly. “So that’s why he came back.”
“I- sorry?”
He just looked back at the doors. “Yes, Springer was similar to what Sandstorm wanted to aspire to. He’s changed a lot since he first joined the Wreckers- a damn lot.” The lift came to a stop, and the doors opened. Broadside stepped out, followed by Fireflight. “As he came to accept and trust us, he started shedding a lot of the cynicism and suspicion he’d spent his entire life developing. At first it was just because Springer had what Sandstorm wanted- power, respect, the freedom to do what he wanted and the strength to back it up. So he stayed with us and tried to dissect just what it was in Springer that led him to gain that. Over time he saw the compassion and attachments and love Springer had didn’t make him weak- it made him stronger. But those kinds of things scared Sandstorm, and no matter how badly he wanted to live just as openly and freely, he couldn’t bring himself to love as unconditionally as Springer did.
“I believe he really did try with you. And I think he really does love you, but it’s something that frightens him still. Emotional betrayals are difficult to get over, and I know he’s used them against ‘bots before and he knows just how devastating they can be. He’s afraid of giving that kind of power for anyone to use against him- even you.” The two came to a stop outside a large set of doors. Xantium kept them closed as Broadside turned to look at Fireflight in the optic. “Sandstorm doesn’t know how to deal with these kinds of things, you have to understand that. He doesn’t understand how Springer could have so many attachments and still function like he did, he doesn’t understand how Hot Rod and Arcee could love him as deeply as they did knowing they could lose him, lose a part of themselves. I’m not trying to make any excuses for him, I just want you to understand where it is he’s coming from.”
Fireflight nodded, expression set. “I understand. Thank you.” He turned to the doors and Xantium opened them for him. Standing as a faded silhouette against the long windows was Sandstorm. The doors slid shut behind Fireflight, drawing the Wrecker’s attention.
He started at the sight of Fireflight and quickly turned away. “Go away.”
“No.”
“Go away, Fireflight.”
“No.”
“Fine.” Abruptly Sandstorm turned toward the side doors. “I’ll go.” But as Sandstorm reached the doors they stayed shut. He froze, then placed his hands on the doors. “Don’t do this to me,” he whispered to them. “Don’t do this to me, please.”
As Fireflight stopped just outside his personal perimeter, he froze again. “Sandstorm, I want to talk to you.”
“I don’t have anything to say to you.”
“Well I do,” came the insistent reply. “So listen. Please.” Though the triplechanger still didn’t turn towards him, the fact he made no moves to leave encouraged Fireflight to go on. “I know you’re hurting and I know you’re angry and afraid, and I understand that part of you thinks this is a betrayal and part of you knows it’s not, and you’re too confused and hurt to know which one to listen to.” Fireflight took a step closer. Sandstorm twitched slightly but didn’t move. “I know all this, and I also know I don’t understand exactly what it is you’re going through, but I want to be here for you.”
When Sandstorm didn’t make any motion to speak, Fireflight went on. “You think you need to be what Springer was in order to get the same kind of happiness he did, but you don’t. I know you worried about having to choose between the Wreckers and me, and I know you’ve felt guilty because it was always the Wreckers every time.” Fireflight looked down, hands clenched. “I know because I worried about the same thing and I’ve felt guilty because it was always my brothers that came first for me, too. Arcee told me once, even with how much Springer loved the two of them, she and Hot Rod knew his first duty would always be to you all. They understood that, they didn’t want to stand in his way, make him feel obligated into choosing them over his family and I want you to understand that, too.”
He stepped forward, then again, and put a hand against Sandstorm’s back. He expected the triplechanger to walk away, but was relieved when he didn’t. “I love you, not Springer. You don’t see the kind of mech you are, but you’re not this cold, sparkless, selfish monster everyone has you believing you are. And you don’t have to be like him for others to see that- the ones that matter, anyway.”
At that point Sandstorm did walk away, but it was to a table where he sat heavily down, not looking up at the jet. “He changed my life,” he told Fireflight quietly. “Not just because he brought me into the Wreckers, either. There was a point- a long, long time ago –where I believed there were truly decent ‘bots out there. Honest and caring and every single time I thought I found one of them, they all turned out to be liars and each one of them broke something inside me.” The orange mech clenched a fist against the smooth surface. “Broke me until I started breaking them first. Springer brought back that idea of goodness somehow. None of the Wreckers had any kind of ulterior motive, didn’t care enough to take advantage of me, of each other. They didn’t have a reason to, but I kept trying so damned hard to find some reason that they would. I couldn’t trust any of them because I didn’t know how to anymore.
“But he built me back up. He gave me responsibilities and duties, he asked for advice, depended on me- Springer always put himself in situations where he had no choice but to trust that I would help him, and never once did he doubt me. He believed in me so readily that I had to trust him back, and that scared me out of my processor.” Sandstorm braced his head against his arms. “And he just let me come around in my own time. Didn’t try to change me or force me to trust him or the others, just kept me focused, kept pushing me to push myself. He accepted me for who I was, what I could do and he never judged me. No one else ever did that.”
Before he could stop himself Fireflight said, “I did.” Sandstorm stiffened and Fireflight wondered when his big, fat vocalizer would stop ruining things for him.
The triplechanger looked up and for a brief, brief moment Fireflight imagined he could see Sandstorm’s optics flashing desperately under his optic band. “Flight…” he said in a cautious tone, “I spent my entire life worrying only about me. When I joined the Wreckers it took me a long time to understand that I was part of a whole. It took me a long time to realize I had a family. I care about you- a lot –and there’s never a day that I don’t wish I handled this better. Hurting you was the worst mistake I ever made and I’m sorry I’m just so… so stupid.” He couldn’t look the Aerialbot in the optics, head hanging low. “I can’t be what you want me to be. You mean a lot to me, Flight, but…I don’t know how to care about you the way I should.”
There was a long pause as the answer tried to sort itself out in Fireflight’s head. He stepped toward the table, leaning against the back of a chair. “I thought you were doing a pretty good job before,” he said softly. “I don’t really know how to love someone that isn’t one of my brothers, but I don’t think it’s that much different, it’s just a different kind of love, you know? I know you’re not perfect, I know I’m not perfect and I know our relationship wasn’t always fun, but I still want to be with you. I know that you’re a gambler, I know that you lie, I know you’ve hurt other ‘bots before, and I know you’re not afraid to use someone’s weakness against them if you have to. I know this and I’ve seen parts of it, and I know you hate those parts of you or you’re afraid that I’ll hate you because of them, but through it all I still love you. You know that I’m overly trusting, I can be too naïve and dense at times and easily distracted and I’m dependent on my brothers, but despite all that, do you still care about me?”
Sandstorm looked at Fireflight with his all-too hopeful expression, still hesitant and afraid and so very open, and it made Sandstorm just as afraid and just as hopeful. As he looked upon Fireflight, he remembered all the little things about the Aerialbot that drove him mad, the habits that did nothing but aggravate him at times, and he remembered how much he missed every single one of them since he left. And he remembered being scared about how much he wanted to go back to those frustrated times, because as exasperated as he got, Sandstorm still thought on Fireflight fondly and never once thought he wasn’t worth a moment of it.
“Yes,” he rasped out. Some pent up emotion spilled out of his spark as he admitted it, and Sandstorm reached over to grab Fireflight’s hands. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I was just so stupid and afraid and I miss you so damned much. I wish I were a better mech. I wish I could be what you actually deserve, and I’m sorry I couldn’t just accept how lucky I was to have you in my life-“
Fireflight hushed him, reaching over to pull Sandstorm into a tight hug that neither ever wanted to pull back from. Neither said a word, having spent so long dancing around each other they could read the emotions in the thrumming of their sparks.
This time they promised never to let the other go again.
~*~*~*~
The first thing Blaster did when he went up to the command center was do a double take. Then he went over to Tracks, pulling him aside by the arm. “What is Arcee doing here?” the communications officer hissed lowly.
Tracks looked confused at the question. “She offered to help out for the shift since we’ve been shorthanded recently.”
“She was up here when I got off! When did she show up?”
Looking all the more confused, the blue mech said, “About five cycles ago.”
Blaster rubbed a hand over his face. “That’s when Wheeljack told me he ran her out of engineering. Where apparently she went to after I chased her out of here.”
Now the confusion turned into concern. “You mean she’s been putting herself on triple shifts? Why?”
“I think it’s more than her simply putting in for extra time. She’s been avoiding medical checks and has been refusing inquires about going back into the field.”
Tracks looked briefly at Arcee’s back and crossed his arms. “What do you think it is, then?”
“She’s working herself into exhaustion. Jazz told me it didn’t look like she was keeping up with any kind of maintenance and I think she’s been avoiding Hot Rod, too.”
“You don’t think she’s… she wouldn’t…”
Blaster knew what Tracks was trying to say, and Blaster wished he could say confidently that he didn’t think she would. But the hesitance was there, and the expression on Tracks’s faceplate made Blaster wish he could’ve taken that hesitance back.
But he couldn’t, and all he could say was, “I don’t know. I’m reluctant to put her on suicide watch…” Because that would be a sign that he didn’t trust her, that he thought she was weak, that she didn’t have anything else to live for. And even if it turned out to be a false alarm something like that would never come off her record. Or be forgotten by her fellow Autobots. “Maybe,” Blaster said hopefully, “she’s just trying to keep from thinking about it.”
“Pushing herself like this is dangerous,” Tracks said with a shake of his head. He dropped his arms and turned to make his way towards the femme. “We won’t report her just yet, but I’m dismissing her.”
“Hey, Tracks- wait!” A hand gripping against the blue back rocked Tracks to a halt. “Lemme talk to her. See if I can’t get a handle on just what’s going on in her processor.”
Tracks didn’t seem too happy with the idea, and Blaster wondered if he hadn’t already begun the ruin of Arcee’s career by bringing the possibility of suicide up with the other mech. But he nodded and stepped back and though he kept a close optic on the two of them he made no move closer.
As he approached, Blaster made notes on Arcee: the faded color of her optics, her unwashed appearance. Her hands still worked quick enough on the keys, but he could see her backtracking several times for simple mistakes, her sharpness gone and replaced with a sluggish inefficiency. He put a hand to her shoulder component. “Hey.”
She looked up- reaction much slower than it usually was –and it took a moment longer for her to focus on who it was addressing her. Blaster wondered exactly how long it had been since she last recharged at all. “Oh. Hi.”
“We need to talk.”
“Not really,” Arcee mumbled, trying to figure out where in the code she lost her place. “I’m busy.”
“You’re not actually on duty. We need to talk.”
“Please,” she told Blaster quietly. “I really don’t want to.”
He frowned and leaned down even as she ducked her head. “Arcee- do you realize what you’re doing to yourself? You’re worrying everyone.”
She didn’t look up.
“Arcee-“
“I know. But I can’t-“ when she moved toward the keys again, Blaster grabbed her wrists, “please- I can’t. If I stop I-I’ll,” Arcee didn’t pull away, but she was trembling. “If I don’t, I’ll have to face this and I can’t. I can’t deal with it Blaster- I’m sorry but I can’t.”
He was aware of the other ‘bots in the command center watching them- trying to act like they weren’t. Tracks went around the circuit, focusing them back on their jobs with presence alone.
“Maybe not alone,” Blaster told her softly, “but you have Hot Rod.”
“And how long will I have him?” She hung limply in Blaster’s grip, her body sagging on every support structure, and Blaster almost thought she’d fall to the floor. “I wish I were more selfish,” she whispered, so soft the red mech had to strain to hear her. “I should’ve demanded Springer spend more time with me, for him to take less risky missions. If I pushed him hard enough-“
“Springer wouldn’t have buckled to it. You know that.”
“But he wouldn’t have stayed with me. He would’ve left me behind and then I wouldn’t be broken.”
That made Blaster’s spark go cold. “Do you really regret loving him that much?”
“No.” Her blue optics were quickly fading to gray and her words came out as a breath. “I wish I did.”
“Arcee? Arcee!” Blaster grabbed her as she listed to the side, shaking her shoulders. “Dammit- Blaster to medical.”
“Hoist here, what is it?”
“I’m bringing down Arcee,” he said, doing a quick scan. Behind him the other ‘bots were muttering until Tracks snapped at them to stay quiet and focus on their monitors. “She’s exhausted herself into stasis.”
“Oh, dear. I’ll have a berth prepared for her.”
“Understood. Blaster out.” Quickly he gathered the smaller ‘bot into his arms and stood. Tracks watched him with a masked expression, and Blaster wanted to tell him something- that it wasn’t her fault, that she’d be fine, not to tell anyone what happened. But he couldn’t find the words so he ducked his head and hurried out.
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Date: 2010-09-04 07:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-04 01:15 pm (UTC)I'm really enjoying this piece, even if I'm spending half of it going "SPRIIIIINNNGER!" and the other half going "Sandstorm, you idiot." :P
no subject
Date: 2010-09-04 07:41 pm (UTC)(i was rather surprised with how much screen time sandstorm and fireflight got in this, but at least things got resolved between them, yes?)