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ajremixWe're now at the part where things are starting to get better!
Title: No Survivors 6
Fandom: Transformers IDW
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2209
Characters: Topspin, Ratchet, Arcee, Jazz, Hot Rod
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
Part 5
He probably shouldn’t have been surprised that Ratchet heard, though he wasn’t really certain how he did. But he was the only one that could medically override the lock on Topspin’s door, and he knew there was no way to get rid of him after he stepped in.
“Hi, Ratchet,” he said without any trace of his trademark humor. “Can I get you anything? A seat, cube of energon, maybe an after-aft-chewing refreshment?”
“You could drop the sarcasm and talk to me, mech to mech.”
Topspin just paced around, not looking at the CMO. “What’s there to talk about? I wanted to resign, Roadbuster wouldn’t let me so I’m still here until my contract expires. Unless Prime decides to put up a stop-loss and then I’m just fragged.”
As the jumpstarter passed Ratchet reached out and grabbed his arm. “You’re not blaming Springer’s death on yourself, are you?”
Air burst through his vents like a snort. “No. Not even you’d have been able to bring him back from that. I’m not stupid.”
“Then what is it that has you so shaken up?” Topspin didn’t pull out of his grip, but neither did he look at Ratchet. “Is it about stripping the body-“
“Don’t say that!” he snapped. “He’s not a body! They never are just bodies!”
So that’s what it was about. When Ratchet spoke again his voice was soft, quiet. “No. They never are. They’re our teammates and friends. They all have faces and names and a history, and we can’t forget that.”
“I made an oath, Ratchet. I’m not a real medic- I know that –but I made an oath all the same. That I’d do whatever it took to keep my ‘bots alive and in one piece. I’ve lost track of how many times I broke that oath, and I just can’t do it anymore. Springer means so much to us, and now everyone wants me to be the one to get rid of him for good.”
“He’s already-“
“I know that!” Topspin tore out of Ratchet’s hand, stomping the length of his quarters, halting and looking for all the world as if he wanted to punch something. “I know he’s dead and I know he’s not coming back! We’d do anything for him, some of us gave our lives to protect him- he was practically a living legend for Primus’ sake! To us, just as much as anyone else!” He whirled around optic band flashing and expression painfully unguarded. “He was our hope, our strength- he gave us a purpose and created an elite group where everyone else just saw thrillseekers and troublemakers! You’re asking me to take apart the mech that brought us together and kept us together and I. Can’t. Do. That. Why can’t anyone understand!?”
The words came readily to Ratchet, an answer he was given so long ago when he felt that same self-loathing. An answer he kept close to his spark to be brought out and turned over in moments of weakness. Words he shared with all the ‘bots that asked him this same thing.
“Because letting someone else do it is an insult to what you meant to him.” The way Topspin froze told Ratchet he had his attention. “This practice isn’t done to torture those of use with medical knowledge. It’s done out of respect for both the medic and their charge.” Ratchet paused to grab himself a seat, then indicated for Topspin to take one across from him. The Wrecker opted to lean against the desktop instead. “You’ve heard of Blue Shift, correct?”
He paused, bringing up the correct file in his memory. “Scientist- pioneer in explorative travel and interactions with alien entities. One of the first major neutral casualties.”
“And Jetfire’s mentor and close friend. I’m sure I don’t have to explain how broken up he was when he heard the news.”
Topspin frowned. “I can imagine.”
“He wanted Jetfire to be the one to strip him.” The look on the blue and white’s faceplate told Ratchet he could imagine how Jetfire took that, as well. “He refused, even though he had enough medical knowledge to perform the task if a fully qualified medic- me –was there to assist him. He said, outright, when Blue Shift told him that he would not partake in destroying the mech that gave him a purpose to his existence. I wasn’t there for the conversation, but Jetfire told me as we stood over the body. And he told me what Blue Shift told him:
“If I can’t have my final moments with someone that loved me and knew me and who I trust and care for, then I’d rather be destroyed outright. Better that than being under the hands of someone who doesn’t know or care, who will look at me like some useless machine to be disassembled.”
Ratchet reached out again and placed his hand over Topspin’s. He turned his hand over and gripped back. “This is done as an act of love and faith, Topspin. He’s trusting you to care for him one last time.”
“I don’t want him to go,” came the broken whisper.
“I know. No one ever does. I won’t force you if you really can’t do it, I just want you to understand why it’s important doing what it is we do.”
For a long moment they stayed in silence with Ratchet leaning forward and Topspin slouched over and both connected by their hands. Slowly, shakily, Topspin stood up. “Alright.” His fans whirled softly, clearing themselves. “I understand.” When Ratchet stood as well, he asked meekly, “Could you be there with me?”
The CMO was touched. “Of course.”
“Good.” And here Topsin gave a wobbling smile. “’Cuz I’m gonna need to borrow your tools. I kinda broke all mine."
Ratchet scowled- all show, all fond. “Typical.”
~*~*~*~
Arcee had come back online in the medbay disoriented with throbbing circuits. Her internal diagnostic came back explaining that she’d been force treated- systems flush, new fluids, several invasive scans and a few minor upgrades as well as a link of her vitals to the medbay’s main monitor. As the monitor signaled her conscious state her sensors picked up someone moving toward her.
“Hey.” Jazz’s concerned face peered down at her. She looked at him in confusion, unable to word her question but he could read it all the same. “Blaster had to go on duty so I decided to take over for him.”
“Why?” Arcee’s vocalizer crackled slightly. “I shouldn’t be here.” She pushed herself to her elbows.
“No, you shouldn’t. You should be with Hot Rod.”
His tone made the femme pause, looking up at him in surprise.
“He needs you right now,” Jazz went on. “And you need him. You’re trying to run away from what happened, and he’s trying to understand why everyone he loves is leaving him. You told Blaster you wished you were more selfish- well you are. Have you considered how much you’re lack of care to yourself and others is hurting him? Have you considered what you’d do to him if you finally succeeded in working yourself to permanent shutdown?”
They were simple words that were floating around in the back of Arcee’s processor, but she needed to hear them. They had to be held out and her made to face them before she could actually believe those words. Jazz’s mouth was set in a soft, unfamiliar frown and he put his hands to Arcee’s arm, trying to make her understand what she already knew. “If you want to be selfish, shouldn’t you be selfish in a way that brings you closer with the mech you love? If Hot Rod loses you, too, what else does he have left? Shouldn’t you be with him, spending every moment you can with him and letting him know just what he means to you right now? Isn’t that selfish enough?”
Abruptly Arcee sat up, pressing a hand to her mouth component to muffle a sob. She pulled her knees up and pressed her helmet against them, trying to hold herself together. Jazz just rubbed at her back, making soothing sounds until her trembling had calmed.
“Are you going to be okay?” Arcee wanted to tell the saboteur that she didn’t know if she’d ever really be okay again, but she nodded. “Do you need help getting to Hot Rod?” She shook her head, still not lifting up from her knees. Jazz leaned forward just enough to give her a gentle hug. “Whenever you’re ready.”
It took less than half a cycle for her to come to grips with herself enough to stand on her own. Arcee’s steps were a little uneven but she was still steady. Some part of her wanted to go back to Jazz- to anyone with open arms -and just curl up against them and have them tell her over and over again that it would be okay and that she could do this. But she didn’t actually want to. She was too afraid of what she might find at the end of it. She was afraid that, without Springer, she and Hot Rod couldn’t work out.
It seemed so incredibly surreal coming down this corridor when it really, logically shouldn’t. She and Hot Rod would spend most of their time together, completely at ease in one or the other’s quarters, laughing, playing, pretending not to be worried every moment they didn’t hear from Springer.
But there was no more waiting now, and that reminded her just how hollow she felt. She stood outside Hot Rod’s door for a long while, almost afraid of what she’d find if she went in. Afraid inside would be empty and she didn’t know why the thought scared her but it did just so damn much.
The door opened almost silently, and Hot Rod looked up at it. There were only two ‘bots that could get into his room without notifying him- only one now, and some part of him was glad to see Arcee looking as strained over this as he felt. Not for any cruel reason, but because he could see just how much she loved Springer, and that there was someone else that could understand how hollow and broken Hot Rod was within. He looked down at the object he’d been messing with in his hands.
It was a small, scaled model of Springer’s helo-mode. Hot Rod wasn’t technically skilled enough to make it transformable, but it didn’t lack moveable parts. The rotors spun, there were hidden compartments for weapons, missiles, and landing gear tucked inside the body. “Do you remember when I lost my first command?” It had taken a long time for him to say that with so little trace of bitterness and self-loathing. “I just sat in here and did nothing. Both you and Springer had to drag me around, keep me from falling apart. And you two never left me alone, always kept me close and did nothing but love me even when all I wanted was to just… fade away. Because I hated what I did.”
He laughed a little, humorlessly. “Springer told me if I wasn’t going to do anything else, I might as well do something with my hands, do something to occupy me. Don’t really know why I decided to listen to that. Or why I chose to make this of all things.” A small tap to a blade made the main rotors twirl slowly. “You remember what he did when he found out what I was doing?”
Arcee nodded, vocalizer going tight. “He laughed. And then he asked you to make models of our alt modes for him.”
“And you asked me to make some for you.” As Hot Rod put the green helo on his desk his hands shook, and Arcee could see his jaw quivering from the door.
“Oh, Hot Rod.” She didn’t remember moving, didn’t remember him moving, but they were suddenly in the middle of the room, wrapped tight against each other.
“I miss him.” Hot Rod’s engine stuttered, fans hitching as he clutched the femme so desperately. “I just miss him so much- Primus it hurts.”
Arcee buried her face against the yellow-red curve of his chestplate. “I know,” she whispered, too weak to do anything else but lean into him and shudder. “I wish he’d come back. I wish this never happened. I wish…” she wished so many things. She wished she told him she loved him more often, she wished she could hold him again, she wished she could’ve said goodbye to his face instead of some holoimage. She wished she told him about her dreams for the future, of the three of them taking off for some distant planet where the side you were on in the war didn’t matter and they could just be together all the time. She wished she hadn’t tried to wait until the war ended and just taken her two mechs and ran. She just stood there, and she wished.
“Don’t leave me.” Arcee didn’t know if she were saying it or Hot Rod, but they were the words that were etched deep in her spark. “I can’t live without both of you. Please don’t ever leave me.”
Title: No Survivors 6
Fandom: Transformers IDW
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2209
Characters: Topspin, Ratchet, Arcee, Jazz, Hot Rod
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
Part 5
He probably shouldn’t have been surprised that Ratchet heard, though he wasn’t really certain how he did. But he was the only one that could medically override the lock on Topspin’s door, and he knew there was no way to get rid of him after he stepped in.
“Hi, Ratchet,” he said without any trace of his trademark humor. “Can I get you anything? A seat, cube of energon, maybe an after-aft-chewing refreshment?”
“You could drop the sarcasm and talk to me, mech to mech.”
Topspin just paced around, not looking at the CMO. “What’s there to talk about? I wanted to resign, Roadbuster wouldn’t let me so I’m still here until my contract expires. Unless Prime decides to put up a stop-loss and then I’m just fragged.”
As the jumpstarter passed Ratchet reached out and grabbed his arm. “You’re not blaming Springer’s death on yourself, are you?”
Air burst through his vents like a snort. “No. Not even you’d have been able to bring him back from that. I’m not stupid.”
“Then what is it that has you so shaken up?” Topspin didn’t pull out of his grip, but neither did he look at Ratchet. “Is it about stripping the body-“
“Don’t say that!” he snapped. “He’s not a body! They never are just bodies!”
So that’s what it was about. When Ratchet spoke again his voice was soft, quiet. “No. They never are. They’re our teammates and friends. They all have faces and names and a history, and we can’t forget that.”
“I made an oath, Ratchet. I’m not a real medic- I know that –but I made an oath all the same. That I’d do whatever it took to keep my ‘bots alive and in one piece. I’ve lost track of how many times I broke that oath, and I just can’t do it anymore. Springer means so much to us, and now everyone wants me to be the one to get rid of him for good.”
“He’s already-“
“I know that!” Topspin tore out of Ratchet’s hand, stomping the length of his quarters, halting and looking for all the world as if he wanted to punch something. “I know he’s dead and I know he’s not coming back! We’d do anything for him, some of us gave our lives to protect him- he was practically a living legend for Primus’ sake! To us, just as much as anyone else!” He whirled around optic band flashing and expression painfully unguarded. “He was our hope, our strength- he gave us a purpose and created an elite group where everyone else just saw thrillseekers and troublemakers! You’re asking me to take apart the mech that brought us together and kept us together and I. Can’t. Do. That. Why can’t anyone understand!?”
The words came readily to Ratchet, an answer he was given so long ago when he felt that same self-loathing. An answer he kept close to his spark to be brought out and turned over in moments of weakness. Words he shared with all the ‘bots that asked him this same thing.
“Because letting someone else do it is an insult to what you meant to him.” The way Topspin froze told Ratchet he had his attention. “This practice isn’t done to torture those of use with medical knowledge. It’s done out of respect for both the medic and their charge.” Ratchet paused to grab himself a seat, then indicated for Topspin to take one across from him. The Wrecker opted to lean against the desktop instead. “You’ve heard of Blue Shift, correct?”
He paused, bringing up the correct file in his memory. “Scientist- pioneer in explorative travel and interactions with alien entities. One of the first major neutral casualties.”
“And Jetfire’s mentor and close friend. I’m sure I don’t have to explain how broken up he was when he heard the news.”
Topspin frowned. “I can imagine.”
“He wanted Jetfire to be the one to strip him.” The look on the blue and white’s faceplate told Ratchet he could imagine how Jetfire took that, as well. “He refused, even though he had enough medical knowledge to perform the task if a fully qualified medic- me –was there to assist him. He said, outright, when Blue Shift told him that he would not partake in destroying the mech that gave him a purpose to his existence. I wasn’t there for the conversation, but Jetfire told me as we stood over the body. And he told me what Blue Shift told him:
“If I can’t have my final moments with someone that loved me and knew me and who I trust and care for, then I’d rather be destroyed outright. Better that than being under the hands of someone who doesn’t know or care, who will look at me like some useless machine to be disassembled.”
Ratchet reached out again and placed his hand over Topspin’s. He turned his hand over and gripped back. “This is done as an act of love and faith, Topspin. He’s trusting you to care for him one last time.”
“I don’t want him to go,” came the broken whisper.
“I know. No one ever does. I won’t force you if you really can’t do it, I just want you to understand why it’s important doing what it is we do.”
For a long moment they stayed in silence with Ratchet leaning forward and Topspin slouched over and both connected by their hands. Slowly, shakily, Topspin stood up. “Alright.” His fans whirled softly, clearing themselves. “I understand.” When Ratchet stood as well, he asked meekly, “Could you be there with me?”
The CMO was touched. “Of course.”
“Good.” And here Topsin gave a wobbling smile. “’Cuz I’m gonna need to borrow your tools. I kinda broke all mine."
Ratchet scowled- all show, all fond. “Typical.”
~*~*~*~
Arcee had come back online in the medbay disoriented with throbbing circuits. Her internal diagnostic came back explaining that she’d been force treated- systems flush, new fluids, several invasive scans and a few minor upgrades as well as a link of her vitals to the medbay’s main monitor. As the monitor signaled her conscious state her sensors picked up someone moving toward her.
“Hey.” Jazz’s concerned face peered down at her. She looked at him in confusion, unable to word her question but he could read it all the same. “Blaster had to go on duty so I decided to take over for him.”
“Why?” Arcee’s vocalizer crackled slightly. “I shouldn’t be here.” She pushed herself to her elbows.
“No, you shouldn’t. You should be with Hot Rod.”
His tone made the femme pause, looking up at him in surprise.
“He needs you right now,” Jazz went on. “And you need him. You’re trying to run away from what happened, and he’s trying to understand why everyone he loves is leaving him. You told Blaster you wished you were more selfish- well you are. Have you considered how much you’re lack of care to yourself and others is hurting him? Have you considered what you’d do to him if you finally succeeded in working yourself to permanent shutdown?”
They were simple words that were floating around in the back of Arcee’s processor, but she needed to hear them. They had to be held out and her made to face them before she could actually believe those words. Jazz’s mouth was set in a soft, unfamiliar frown and he put his hands to Arcee’s arm, trying to make her understand what she already knew. “If you want to be selfish, shouldn’t you be selfish in a way that brings you closer with the mech you love? If Hot Rod loses you, too, what else does he have left? Shouldn’t you be with him, spending every moment you can with him and letting him know just what he means to you right now? Isn’t that selfish enough?”
Abruptly Arcee sat up, pressing a hand to her mouth component to muffle a sob. She pulled her knees up and pressed her helmet against them, trying to hold herself together. Jazz just rubbed at her back, making soothing sounds until her trembling had calmed.
“Are you going to be okay?” Arcee wanted to tell the saboteur that she didn’t know if she’d ever really be okay again, but she nodded. “Do you need help getting to Hot Rod?” She shook her head, still not lifting up from her knees. Jazz leaned forward just enough to give her a gentle hug. “Whenever you’re ready.”
It took less than half a cycle for her to come to grips with herself enough to stand on her own. Arcee’s steps were a little uneven but she was still steady. Some part of her wanted to go back to Jazz- to anyone with open arms -and just curl up against them and have them tell her over and over again that it would be okay and that she could do this. But she didn’t actually want to. She was too afraid of what she might find at the end of it. She was afraid that, without Springer, she and Hot Rod couldn’t work out.
It seemed so incredibly surreal coming down this corridor when it really, logically shouldn’t. She and Hot Rod would spend most of their time together, completely at ease in one or the other’s quarters, laughing, playing, pretending not to be worried every moment they didn’t hear from Springer.
But there was no more waiting now, and that reminded her just how hollow she felt. She stood outside Hot Rod’s door for a long while, almost afraid of what she’d find if she went in. Afraid inside would be empty and she didn’t know why the thought scared her but it did just so damn much.
The door opened almost silently, and Hot Rod looked up at it. There were only two ‘bots that could get into his room without notifying him- only one now, and some part of him was glad to see Arcee looking as strained over this as he felt. Not for any cruel reason, but because he could see just how much she loved Springer, and that there was someone else that could understand how hollow and broken Hot Rod was within. He looked down at the object he’d been messing with in his hands.
It was a small, scaled model of Springer’s helo-mode. Hot Rod wasn’t technically skilled enough to make it transformable, but it didn’t lack moveable parts. The rotors spun, there were hidden compartments for weapons, missiles, and landing gear tucked inside the body. “Do you remember when I lost my first command?” It had taken a long time for him to say that with so little trace of bitterness and self-loathing. “I just sat in here and did nothing. Both you and Springer had to drag me around, keep me from falling apart. And you two never left me alone, always kept me close and did nothing but love me even when all I wanted was to just… fade away. Because I hated what I did.”
He laughed a little, humorlessly. “Springer told me if I wasn’t going to do anything else, I might as well do something with my hands, do something to occupy me. Don’t really know why I decided to listen to that. Or why I chose to make this of all things.” A small tap to a blade made the main rotors twirl slowly. “You remember what he did when he found out what I was doing?”
Arcee nodded, vocalizer going tight. “He laughed. And then he asked you to make models of our alt modes for him.”
“And you asked me to make some for you.” As Hot Rod put the green helo on his desk his hands shook, and Arcee could see his jaw quivering from the door.
“Oh, Hot Rod.” She didn’t remember moving, didn’t remember him moving, but they were suddenly in the middle of the room, wrapped tight against each other.
“I miss him.” Hot Rod’s engine stuttered, fans hitching as he clutched the femme so desperately. “I just miss him so much- Primus it hurts.”
Arcee buried her face against the yellow-red curve of his chestplate. “I know,” she whispered, too weak to do anything else but lean into him and shudder. “I wish he’d come back. I wish this never happened. I wish…” she wished so many things. She wished she told him she loved him more often, she wished she could hold him again, she wished she could’ve said goodbye to his face instead of some holoimage. She wished she told him about her dreams for the future, of the three of them taking off for some distant planet where the side you were on in the war didn’t matter and they could just be together all the time. She wished she hadn’t tried to wait until the war ended and just taken her two mechs and ran. She just stood there, and she wished.
“Don’t leave me.” Arcee didn’t know if she were saying it or Hot Rod, but they were the words that were etched deep in her spark. “I can’t live without both of you. Please don’t ever leave me.”
