Author's note: Do not be fooled by the title. Of all my fics, angsty and whiny though they may be, this is definitely the darkest. What "dark" means however, is up for debate. I've rated this R. According to one of my friends, this is silly, according to another, this is about right. This story is not a lemon, and skips merrily over the "how?" of TF sex (it's not really important) but sex is central to the story philosophy-wise anyway.
This isn't part of my BM series, btw - it's just an idea that wouldn't get out of my head. If the SB/BA relationship broke down for real...how would they cope? Or not cope?
And by now you should know that where there's my fic, Chaotic Serenity's lurking nearby, doing the beta-reading. Hail her amazing tolerance for bad drafts. ^_~
Smile
Evening crept over the horizon of Cybertron as day waned to night on this side of the planet. Most Transformers were unwinding -they'd been home for some time now. Only security guards and those unlucky enough to have the night shift were in any state of activity...only them and the two Maximals in the office of the military core.
Silence was heavy between Silverbolt and Blackarachnia as they filed reports, corrected errors and generally documented the Technorganic War. Rattrap had given them a head start, but he had been called for an interview with the council tonight. Botanica was busy. Nightscream and Cheetor had no aptitude for the boring paperwork. That left the condor and the spider stuck with the last of it, and not a word had passed between them in the duration.
Silverbolt kept his eyes glued to the viewing screen, concentrating on facts and logic rather then the aching feeling screaming at him.
Do something! Say something. You owe her that much at least.
It went unheard.
He could not, however, banish the sense of melancholy that hung in the air - emanating from himself, his one-time mate or the two of them, he didn't know. Ignoring it could only work for so long, but there wasn't that much left to do, anyway. In an hour or so, the pair would finish silently, clear up silently, and depart silently. It was an unwritten agreement. If neither spoke, nothing had to be confronted. As long as that rule held true, Silverbolt wouldn't have to face the questions that lurked in the shadows of his mind. As long as he avoided that, Blackarachnia didn't have to face her lover's metamorphosis into someone she barely recognized. There was a strange logic in it, but it was logic none the less, far safer than the swiftly quelled emotions struggling to make themselves heard. That which is not spoken ever has to be debated.
Reaching for the next disk, he was surprised to find that his hand brushed air. The processed information had all been transferred to the giant Cybertronian Mainframe. Sparing a glance at Blackarachnia, he saw that she too, was beginning to tidy the remaining files away. They were done.
Cabinets were locked, the desks were cleared. The floor was checked for any errant files, they scanned the computers and checked the data was saved. Still not a word was spoken. They closed the windows, answered a few waiting communications briefly, and finally shut down the main system
"Wanna interface?"
The silence in the office was broken by Blackarachnia, and shattered to splinters by Silverbolt as he tripped and crashed to the ground in surprise.
He finally dragged his vision to her, only to find that she didn't look back at him, only continued to clear away the last traces of their work, as if she'd done nothing more than ask if he wanted to have lunch.
"Pardon?!"
"Do you want to interface?" she repeated slowly. "It's a simple enough question."
He continued staring at her. Even when he and Blackarachnia had shared quarters, been together every moment possible and wandered around in a lover's daze (well, Silverbolt had, anyway), she had never been so blatant. For Blackarachnia, technique and subtlety were everything.
If Silverbolt had paused to consider his feelings fully, he would have realized that this fact concerned him far less than the clinical way in which she said it, and the odd coldness that had appeared in the room. But he seldom paused to listen to his gut reaction nowadays, and instead found himself speaking.
"Blackarachnia, what brought this on?"
"You haven't so much as smiled in days," she responded in that strange, emotionless voice. "I thought you may as well do something that gave you a kick, if only for a bit."
Even Silverbolt's new attitude couldn't banish his instinct to the sidelines this time. Blackarachnia sounded as if she was reciting Romeo and Juliet in the voice of Macbeth.
"Blackarachnia...we can't...it'd mean..."
"I'm not talking about getting back together," she informed him. "I gave up on that weeks ago." A shiver darted down Silverbolt's spine, but she was oblivious to it - she still wasn't facing him. "Seriously. We go to yours, we interface, I leave. No fuss, no commitment, no trouble. You never have to speak to me again if you don't want to."
There was something else happening here, but he couldn't place it.
"I couldn't..."
She shrugged. "Doesn't bother me, I'm not going to take offence either way. Was just offering. It's up to you."
Later, Silverbolt would wonder just how exactly he came to finish clearing up, silently hold the door open for her, and walk her not to her own quarters, but his.
_______________________________________________________
He dozed uneasily in bed, the small female curled beside him and facing away from him.
Something was badly wrong.
The act itself was the same as ever it was, but an act described it exactly - players saying lines and going through motions. No caresses. No kiss. No smug smiles or whispered jokes, no quiet wonder. His partner was as beautiful as ever, but it was the beauty of a museum piece. Unconnected. Cold.
This can't be right...
And there was something else too, that twisted at his heart, demanding to be recognized. He'd been Blackarachnia's when he was barely online, but now she shied away from him afterwards, refusing even to let him see her properly.
There was a sigh from the other side of the bed. Blackarachnia stirred and got up.
"Leaving so soon?"
He wanted to shoot himself after he'd said that - one thing that had never changed about him was his tendency to put his foot in his mouth. I sound as if nothing important has happened...
"Yeah. We're done, aren't we?"
Slapping him would have had less effect. The deed that Silverbolt had long deemed sacrosanct had been relegated to the same category as paperwork, tidying and board meetings.
She pulled her armour back on with casual efficiency, and he never took his eyes off of her. She was poetry, she was fury, she was his everything. And yet what they'd just done left him cold. She'd been as close as it was possible to get to him a moment ago, and she couldn't have been further away. Idly he traced the line of her body with his eyes, as if he would never see her again.
She stood, and walked quietly to the door. Even her footsteps seemed suspended, muted, in the unnerving atmosphere that cloaked the room.
She paused at the door, and for a moment Silverbolt entertained the wild hope that she might turn around.
Not so.
"Thanks for the memories, Bowser."
Her swift exit shook the atmosphere. She didn't look at him once.
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Memories!
Everything they'd done, everything they'd felt, everything they'd said, all pushed back into vague memory? He'd fought for her, defied the odds for her, would have died for her, for what? A glaring silence and sex that wasn't sex at all. Thus ends the story.
What had been the point?
The fleeting fury that gripped Silverbolt was ice cold. But then, all the passion tonight had been cold. They'd interfaced without feeling, and the fight that had been brewing since Silverbolt's "revival" had never emerged. Oh, of course there was that incident with the virus, but even THAT hadn't brought anything to the forefront - it caused the victim to swerve erratically from grievance to grievance, every argument too brief to be of any use. They were living in limbo, neither willing to make the first move towards either passionate anger or passionate love.
Life in neutral fades out the pain, but it kills the joy dead.
He collapsed back on the bed, still feeling the state of surreality in the pit of his stomach.
We shouldn't have done it...
But they had.
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"Silverbolt?"
He looked across to his mate in a dreamy daze as she idly traced patterns over his chest. "Beloved?"
The use of his real name, as opposed to one of her multitude of nicknames, drew his attention immediately.
"Do you love me? Really love me, I mean?"
She was avoiding his gaze again...Why in the name of Primus did she do that? "Sweet venom, surely by now you know the answer to that?"
No answer. She was lost in her own world.
He sighed. "Blackarachnia...would I be here, in your quarters, with you next to me, if I didn't love you?"
"You might."
He stared at her in confusion. She finally looked up and gave a wry smile.
"Not everyone sleeps with someone else out of love, 'Bolt. Sometimes, it's just for kicks."
He blinked, disbelieving. "My love...how long has this been bothering you? Why didn't you say?" Had she been lying with him, night after night, never quite sure that the male she'd chosen as her lover was actually in love with her? And how was he supposed to convince her that his feelings were true?
He felt a sigh go through her, and had to strain to hear her words. "Wasn't sure if I cared."
What was that supposed to mean? "Blackarachnia, I cannot give you solid proof. I don't think that is at all possible. I can only swear on my life that you are my world. If I lost you..." He froze, unable to continue.
To his surprise, the tension went from her body. Her arms looped around him and she lay her head on his chest.
"Guess I'll have to take my chances then."
He felt a failure. How could he prove a feeling?
"Bowser?"
"Yes?"
"I love you."
_______________________________________________________
You are my world.
A broken promise. He'd proved her right - love was fleeting, sex was entirely meaningless. Or had she proved herself right? Why had she offered to interface with him?
A horrible thought flitted across his mind...What if this was nothing but a return to normal for Blackarachnia? Hadn't Rattrap said something about Tarantulas..?
Oh Primus. Primusprimusprimus. It couldn't be, could it? Had she ...had she used sex as a business deal before? Had it really meant that little to her? With Tarantulas? She'd never said that he was her first...what if...No! She hated the spider...
And who would you hate more than someone you had once loved? Someone that hurt you in the end? Oh, hang on a minute, THAT'S a familiar scenario...
He froze.
The horrible fact had finally dawned on him - he was no better than the one creature he hated more than Megatron. Had she loved Tarantulas?
It was killing him either way. If she HAD loved that...knave, Silverbolt was definitely not her first "conquest," and it rankled to know he was not the first in her affections. If she hadn't...that meant he was worse than the spider.
She'd loved him. And he'd used her.
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Silverbolt sank down further in his chair, wishing for all the world that the ground would just open up and swallow him. Stuck with Rattrap on monitor duty, he'd already heard far more of Rattrap's playboy lifestyle than he'd ever needed - or wanted - to know. The rat had taken advantage of a captive audience, and not just ANY captive audience...the strange looking rookie with a funny code of honour and a penchant for romance.
"And den, there was this one femme-bot...I swear, 'Bolt, ya could've used her torso plate to hold yer drink!"
Primus help me, Silverbolt thought.
"Hey, Bird-dog, ya in?" Rattrap waved a hand a couple of centimetres in front of Silverbolt's muzzle, giving the Fuzor a start.
"Y-yes, Rattrap, but I don't find this topic...entirely appropriate."
The small Maximal threw back his head, laughing until his sides hurt. "Geez, listen to ya! All romantic and "oh yes, dere's the perfect woman for me out there..." Ain't no such thing as perfection, Rookie, all it gets ya is a broken heart - and an empty wallet. Take my advice Fuzz 'n' Feathers, and forget about the "true love" rubbish. Best just to get yer kicks while ya can."
Thankfully, Optimus came in over the communicator, ordering the younger Maximal out on patrol. Grateful for the escape, Silverbolt waved farewell to his well meaning (if dirty-minded) friend, and set off down the corridor.
"Don't let Rattrap get to you."
He turned to find Rhinox busily adjusting some circuitry in the wall panel.
"Pardon?"
The rhino chuckled. "Rattraps's been around, and he's much older than you. One too many failures can cause...a certain degree of disrespect towards the fairer sex." He continued as he began to seal the panel. "Rattrap's view on life won't work for you, Silverbolt. You're too nice natured. HE can survive on jokes and pleasure, but I've got the suspicion YOU'LL know love when you see it." He straightened as he finished up, and finally flashed the newcomer a rare smile. "And don't squirm so much. That's why you're his favourite victim - he loves to get a rise out of you."
Silverbolt smiled in return, and continued out of the base. He only barely caught Rhinox's last words, said more to himself than to Silverbolt.
"Every cynic's just a disappointed dreamer..."
A week later, Silverbolt met Blackarachnia at the Energon cave.
_________________________________________________________
He was right.
Silverbolt was the epitome of the disappointed dreamer, and Blackarachnia had been caught in the backlash. But it wasn't so much his identity crisis as the night itself that concerned him now. Rattrap had told Silverbolt that all women ever did was let you down - but it was Silverbolt who'd let her down.
The irony! He would have LAUGHED if he hadn't felt so sickened! After all the reminders that Blackarachnia would betray him, use him, hurt him, leave him...And he'd gone and done it to her! The sheer, bloody stupidity of it all!
He buried his face in the pillow, but the memories wouldn't leave him alone. Every touch, every kiss, every smile, each memory comparing itself mockingly to the farce of sex that had happened tonight. The most innocent of their kisses was intimate in comparison with this...blasphemy.
Why had she offered?!
It would have been easy for him to pin the blame on Blackarachnia - she had offered, he'd been taken by surprise, he'd been through a lot amd was "vulnerable" - but Silverbolt wasn't one for scapegoats. He knew both had been in the wrong, but WHY? Why had Rattrap been able to do Primus-knows-what with scores (if he was to be believed) of females - total strangers - without a backward glance, whereas Silverbolt was tortured by ONE night. Out of how many? And with someone he'd considered his lover?
What was she thinking right now, in her quarters down the hallway? Was she kicking herself as she was? Or had she merely removed her armour once more, curled up and gone to sleep, completely unconcerned. Was she plagued with memories? Or had she discarded them in the same way she'd discarded him?
Hang on a moment! WHO starting snubbing their girlfriend again?
____________________________________________________________
"Silverbolt?"
Deja vu, but his eyes remained trained on the city below. No time for love. For war, for revenge, for sheer bloody-mindedness, yes...but not for love.
"What do you want, Blackarachnia?"
He felt her flinch. Only a blind robot couldn't see that she had been hurt, and he'd only used five words.
Don't say anything, Blackarachnia. Because I'll talk back and hurt you even more...
"I...just wanted to ask..."
"Forget it, Blackarachnia." Was he REALLY saying this? "We're a liability to each other."
"It never bothered you before..."
"I was an idiot before."
Pain swept across his chest, but he ignored it. It was only when he turned to face her, to dismiss her, that he felt actual fear.
Her eyes had hardened to glaciers, and the venom in that glance was worse than even her glare as a Predacon.
"You're an idiot NOW," she snarled, "and you don't have any of the redeeming features you used to. Slag off. I came to tell you Optimus wants you to do an aerial sweep. Go play with your Vehicon friends, and damn the lot of you to the Pit!"
She stormed off, leaving him reeling. Hit hard. Aim low.
_____________________________________________________
"But that wasn't the worst of it, was it?" whispered the part of him that remained Blackarachnia's lovable bird-dog, furious at his new incarnation's betrayal. "You pushed it just one step too far, didn't you? And you paid the price. As you knew you'd have to."
_____________________________________________________
She was almost whimpering with the pain of her wounds, leaning against the wall of the technorganic orchard. A worried Rattrap and a concerned Botanica had done what they could, but the fact was quite simple : technorganic bodies healed themselves slowly, and in the meantime there was a world of pain to be dealt with. She'd taken the shot for Nightscream at close range, and for all her body's general resilience, she'd suffered the damage. The bat had been racked with guilt and she'd spent the best part of half an hour comforting him (in her own, unique way) that it wasn't his fault. Now however, she was alone, and free to nurse her wounds in peace. She didn't even see Silverbolt walk in.
He saw her of course. His spark wrenched to see her in a state that could only be described as "pitiful." He moved to go and soothe her - then pulled up sharply, reminded of his new role.
Unfortunately, his thwarted sense of protectiveness made his actual words sharp.
"Get up. You've been hurt worse than that before."
The effect was instantaneous.
Bastard!
The shriek of fury was accompanied by mind numbing pain, pain that ripped across his spark, as if it was being torn in two...
It was. The bond between himself and the black widow may have been dormant, but it had been THERE. Every time he berated himself inwardly, she knew. Every time his words cut her to the quick, he felt it rebound back on him.
Now Blackarachnia had had enough. The fragile link between them swayed and shattered as she severed what was effectively the last of their romance. The last sense he had from her was a combination of anguish, anger...and defeat.
She retreated further into the shadows, watching him coldly. He was left doubled over with pain, and the aching sense of loneliness the destruction of their bond left in its wake.
___________________________________________________________
Power play, he thought bitterly.
He'd had the power over her for months - she was in love with him, and he continually refused to even talk to her. She'd been the one doing the chasing, the reassuring, the defending. He knew that - the roles had been reversed in the Beast Wars.
But she had responded. Even if it was just a quip, she had responded to his advances, acknowledged the fact he was there.
When he'd had that power over her, he'd abused it, and he wasn't proud of it...
And then she'd had enough. The tide had turned. By destroying their last link to each other, Blackarachnia had claimed the upper hand for herself. For revenge? he wondered. Or simply because she couldn't stand the barest hint of me?
It shouldn't have left him as empty as it did. The bond itself was more a sense of empathy, reassurance that your lover was there. It alerted each partner to peril, and was rumoured to be useful in giving "common ground" to apparently mismatched partners. It was not a telepathic link, nor permanently symbiotic, it was just...special. For all the scientists' probing, it had kept its secrets, and was revered as a result.
He was shattered by its absence - though neither he nor Blackarachnia ever mentioned the incident. That would have let to conversation, conflict - and an uncertain resolution. Better to say nothing and take no chances.
Tonight was just a continuation of that power play, except it served to throw it into confusion. No-one had been in control tonight...It seemed a bizarre form of rape, rape of romance itself instead of a physical body. And rape too, was about power...
Dammit, it shouldn't BE like this! This was meant to be love, compromise, companionship, not a matter of domination and reluctant submission!
Whose fault is THAT?
______________________________________________________
He gave up. He couldn't sleep.
Throwing off the covers, he dragged on the minimum of armour and traipsed through to the kitchen - falling over Rattrap in the doorway.
I'm not having much luck with doors these days...
"Geez, 'Bolts, I know I'm short, but couldja at least TRY to look down before ya step on me???"
"Sorry..."
"Why ya up at dis time of night anyways?"
Well, I just screwed my so-called girlfriend without expressing a single emotion and I've been up for hours agonizing over it, thanks for asking... "Just hungry."
Rattrap snorted. "Yeah, right, and I'm Unicron. C'mon 'Bolts, ya can tell me."
He was going to tell Rattrap to shut up - but he didn't. He wanted...he needed...just to talk, just to get this out of his head, to have someone tell him what to do next...
____________________________________________________________
"Ya did WHAT???"
Rattrap looked as if he'd been told Cybertron was flat. It may as well have been...of all the things in the world he'd've said wouldn't happen, this was definitely in the top ten.
"Let me get this straight - ya ROYALLY ticked off the spider lady, she nukes your bond, ya haven't spoken in weeks and t' top it all off, ya go and sleep with her without MEANING anything by it?"
"That's about the long and the short of it," Silverbolt said miserably.
Rattrap stared at him in confusion. "Who are you and what have you done with Silverbolt?!"
The condor sighed. "I've been asking myself that self-same question constantly."
Rattrap shuffled uncomfortably. Swings and roundabouts. Whatever you do comes back to you...I can't believe I'm about to say this...
" 'Bolt, the two of ya were made fer each other. Why'd ya let it get this far?"
"Because I didn't know how to stop it."
Rattrap was stunned as Silverbolt looked away from his friend. There. He'd said it.
"But 'Bolt...all ya had to do was say "sorry." All ya had to do was talk it out."
"You of all people should know exactly how difficult "sorry" can be."
"Touché." Rattrap had to admit that the samurai had a point. "But since when did YOU develop an ego like mine?"
"What?"
"Apologisin's only hard if yer too proud to say the words."
Silverbolt froze as the rodent's words hit home.
Rattrap continued, softly. "All dis time you've been beratin' yourself, putting yourself down for something that was NOT YOUR FAULT, slaggit...and when it comes to the one mistake ya haveta take responsibility for, you can't get the words out?"
A pause.
"Yes..."
"Well then," Rattrap pointed at the door. "Down th' hall, third door on the left. Get goin'."
_________________________________________________________________
Once again, Silverbolt experienced a strange time-shift, being utterly unaware of walking down the hallway. It seemed as if he'd blinked, and found himself outside Blackarachnia's door.
Well, why not? Everything else tonight has been surreal.
...
Now what?
Knock, knock, knock.
He felt strangely detached from his fist as he tapped it against the door. The way things were going, he wouldn't be surprised if someone - something - other than Blackarachnia answered.
But the door slid open - and there she was, blinking sleepily.
So I'm not the only one who's been up all night...
She was confused, and tiredness brought her guard down. "Silverbolt? What's the matter? Did I forget something?"
Time held its breath for a moment, deciding how this scenario would be decided...but Time, and Fate, were overruled by Silverbolt's decision.
He reached out and hugged her to him, just as he had done in the Beast Wars, as he should have been doing all along.
"Me."
__________________________________________________________
It's out of my hands now.
The moment when he held her, and she simply stood, too surprised to respond, lasted forever.
The jury's out...
He'd made his move. The power had shifted once more, and he willingly surrendered it. This had to be agreed, had to be mutual. He didn't know what to expect, a shove, a step back or, if she remained angry with him, a slap or a yell.
Arms slid around his neck, and she pressed close.
"Bowser, you are a complete, utter, absolute idiot."
Defendant acquitted.
_____________________________________________________________
Words were easy after that.
It's funny how much a single conversation can alter things. Talk may be cheap, but it's certainly effective. Had any third person been eavesdropping, they would have noticed the rather surprising return of Silverbolt's eloquence, and a trace of his notorious "corniness" making a comeback. Blackarachnia's voice, on the other hand, grew stronger and fiercer.
Nothing could return to normal immediately. There was no device that could erase Silverbolt's change into Jetstorm, and nothing could take back the words that had been said - or gone unsaid - between the two.
However, thought Rattrap - that aforementioned, eavesdropping third party - things would be better. Maybe even return to the way that was normal, the state of affairs that, for all their complete lack of logic, had been iright./i
Who knows, he thought to himself, grinning as he swept cheerfully away, maybe I can start baiting them again in a week or so./p
________________________________________________________________
"What made you come back?" Blackarachnia asked idly, lolling next to her (reinstated) lover.
He gave a wry smile. "I suppose it was the fact you wouldn't even look at me. It gave me enough of a scare to knock me back to my senses."
It wasn't just that, though, he reflected. There had been something else...
How can you have sex without feeling when you love the person you're with?/i
That gave him such a jolt that Blackarachnia looked up enquiringly.
"What is it?"
"N-nothing," he replied. What was the point? It was over. One more mistake that could now be forgiven, if not forgotten. "So...what now?"
"Well, technically, every rulebook says we cool it and see where we go from here..."
Sounded fair. Better than he'd hoped in fact..."OUCH!"
Another time shift, but this one was much more to his liking. Blackarachnia had pounced, with a spark in her eyes that was wonderfully familiar...
"But since when have I listened to rulebook?"
He grinned - he couldn't help it. "Fair enough, beloved...just one thing?"
"What?" she grumbled, thoroughly intent now and intolerant of distractions.
"Can we move this to the bed? The corner of the table is digging into my back..."/p
______________________________________________________________
She was fast asleep now. Unsurprising really. He smiled as he stretched.
It was strange, he thought, how events could change so quickly. Two hours ago he'd been left chilled by the same action that now found him comfortably lounging in her quarters, happy and content.
There's a big jump between pleasure and happiness.
Yes, that was right. Some people were happy with fleeting affairs and one night stands, and that was their business, not his. But he himself...There had to be love behind it. Casual sex left him cold.
He was glad to find that his mind seemed to have returned to operating on a single track, rather than the mental split personality he seemed to have developed recently. No need for that awkward, guilt-ridden and obnoxious part of him anymore. The cards had been on the table, and he'd walked away a winner.
Thank Primus, he thought, hugging Blackarachnia closer. What would I have done without you?
But everything was all right. Like Rattrap, he'd realised that nothing could return to normal overnight - although, he thought, looking at Blackarachnia's smugly smiling face, it could come damn close at times...But they'd be fine.
Of course. We're always fine. In the end.
He suddenly realized that the thought - or more accurately, the feeling of absolute confidence, of security - was not his own. Another smile lit his normally neutral face as he looked down at his mate, aware of the calm green eyes dozily watching him.
Welcome back.
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Author's Final Note: So I'm a sucker for happy endings. Sue me. :P