Everyone thought that Wing was dead. Including Wing himself.
He blinked up at the ceiling when he came online for the first time in years. Strange. It wasn't the sky he had apparently died under. It was made of chrome that was perfectly polished. He could see his reflection in it, even. He blinked and sat up.
His joints were terribly sore and it hurt to move. He groaned. His head pounded like someone was hitting it with a hammer. He rested his head back down and lay perfectly still. He took a moment to collect his thoughts.
He didn't remember much, really. Just a large battle, and a terrible pain. And then he... Died? His spark lurched. Maybe he really did die. Was this the afterlife? Did he join Vector Sigma? A chill went down his spine.
Maybe this was the pits. What did he do wrong?
On cue, a door opened. A large mech stepped into the room.
He was enormous, large enough that he had to crouch to step through the door frame. What seemed to be a battle mask obscured his face. He was painted red and blue, and a familiar insignia was printed across his chest, between two windows. His icy blue eyes regarded Wing with concern.
"Is this the pit?" He blurted out. He was surprised by how hoarse his voice sounded, and also by how much his voice box hurt when he spoke. The mech stared at him.
"No." He said plainly.
Wing sighed in relief. And then it hit him.
"Are you with Lockdown?" His optics narrowed in suspicion. The mech seemed to be taken aback by this comment.
"First of all, no. Second, that's a little offensive. And third, if I was, why would we have patched you up?" Wing relaxed again, but once again paused at that explanation.
"Who's we?"
"Me and Drift. As soon as he found out that you were online, he insisted that we fix you." The mention of Drift made Wing's spark leap.
"Drift is here? Can I see him?" A huge grin spread across his face. The mech waited before responded. It seemed like he was about to say no, but he saw Wing's face and sighed.
"Fine. But don't exacerbate your wounds. You're still heavily damaged." The mech turned to leave.
"Wait!" He turned.
"Who are you?" Wing asked. The mech paused.
"Orion Pax." He left. Wing stared up at the ceiling. He felt like he had heard that name before. He stopped while he could. His head hurt from merely thinking. He looked down at his hands.
His hands were covered with rust and filth that had collected over the years. They were also stained with his own energon. Or was it from one of Lockdown's men? He couldn't remember anymore. How long had he been in stasis? It must have been a long time. He began to wonder what he had missed.
The door slid open and someone threw their arms around him. Wing winced as the pain in his joints flared up again.
"I missed you so much." Drift's voice was muffled as he buried his face into Wing's chest.
"Looks like you missed my tits too." He chuckled. Drift looked up at him. A huge smile pushed up Drift's optics and reminded Wing of what he had missed. He noticed that Drift also had the familiar insignia he saw on the mech plastered on his chest. It was scratched out though. Wing inspected it.
"What's this? Why's it all scratched?" He asked. Drift's face fell.
"Oh... It's a long story." Wing's spark lurched at the look on his face. The last thing he wanted was to see Drift upset. He took Drift's hand in his rusted one.
"You can tell me anything." He said softly.